"Yea," said Tibble, "into the glorious freedom of God's children."

"Thou knowst it. Thou knowst it, Tibble. It seems to me that life
is no life, but living death, without that freedom! And I MUST hear
of it, and know whether it is mine, yea, and Stephen's, and all whom
I love. O Tibble, I would beg my bread rather than not have that
freedom ever before mine eyes."

"Hold it fast! hold it fast, dear sir," said Tibble, holding out his
hands with tears in his eyes, and his face working in a manner that
happily Ambrose could not see.

"But how--how? The barefoot friar said that for an Ave a day, our
Blessed Lady will drag us back from purgatory. I saw her on the
wall of her chapel at Winchester saving a robber knight from the
sea, yea and a thief from the gallows; but that is not being free."

"Fond inventions of pardon-mongers," muttered Tibble.

"And is one not free when the priest hath assoilsied him?" added
Ambrose.

"If, and if--" said Tibble. "But bone shall make me trow that
shrift in words, without heart-sorrow for sin, and the Latin heard
with no thought of Him that bore the guilt, can set the sinner free.
'Tis none other that the Dean sets forth, ay, and the book that I
have here. I thank my God," he stood up and took off his cap
reverently, "that He hath opened the eyes of another!"