When I had been a short time in my Lady Lumley's chamber, my Lord
Arundel sent for his granddaughter, who was wont, she told me, at that
hour to write letters for him; and I stayed alone with her ladyship,
who, as soon as Lady Surrey left us, thus broke forth in her praise:
"Hath any one, think you. Mistress Sherwood, ever pictured or imagined
a creature more noble, more toward in disposition, more virtuous in
all her actions, of greater courage in adversity or patience under
ill-usage than this one, which God hath sent to this house to cheer
two lonely hearts, whilst her own is well-nigh broken?"
"Oh, my Lady Lumley!" I exclaimed, "I fear some new misfortune hath
befallen this dear lady, who is indeed so rare a piece of goodness
that none can exceed in describing her deserts. Hitherto she hath
condescended to impart her sorrows to her poor friend; but to-day she
shut up her griefs in her own bosom, albeit I could read unspoken
suffering in every lineament of her sweet countenance."
"God forgive me," her ladyship replied, "if in speaking of her wrongs
I should entertain over-resentful feelings toward her ungracious
husband, whom once I did love as a mother, and very loth hath my heart
been to condemn him; but now, if it were not that I myself received
him in my arms what time he was born, whose life was the cause of my
sweet young sister's death, I should doubt he could be her son."
"What fresh injury," I timidly asked, "hath driven Lady Surrey from
her house?"
"_Her_ house no longer," quoth Lady Lumley. "She hath no house, no
home, no husband worthy of the name, and only an old man nigh unto the
grave, alas! and a poor feeble woman such as I am to raise a voice in
her behalf, who is spurned by one who should have loved and cherished
her, as twice before God's altar he vowed to do. Oh," cried the poor
lady, weeping, "she hath borne all things else with a sweet fortitude
which angels looking down on her must needs have wondered at. She
would ever be excusing this faithless husband with many pretty wiles
and loving subterfuges, making, sweet sophist, the worst appear the
better reason. 'Men must needs be pardoned,' she would say, when my
good father waxed wroth at his ill-usage of her, 'for such outward
neglect as many practice in these days toward their wives, for that it
was the fashion at the court to appear unhusbandly; but if women would
be patient, she would warrant them their love should be requited at
last.' And when news came that Phil had sold an estate for to
purchase--God save the mark!--a circlet of black pearls for the queen;
and Lord Arundel swore he should leave him none of his lands but what
by act of parliament he was compelled to do, she smiled winsomely, and
said: 'Yea, my lord, I pray you, let my dear Phil be a poor man as his
father wished him to be, and then, if it please God, we may live in a
cottage and be happy.' And so turned away his anger by soft words, for
he laughed and answered: 'Heaven help thee. Nan! but I fear that
cottage must needs be Arundel Castle, for my hands are so tied therein
that thy knavish husband cannot fail to inherit it. And beshrew me if
I would either rob thee of it, mine own good Nan, or its old walls of
thy sweet presence when I shall be dead.' And so she always pleaded
for him, and never lost heart until . . . Oh, Mistress Sherwood, I
shall never forget the day when her uncle, Francis Dacre--wisely or
unwisely I know not, but surely meaning well--gave her to read in this
house, where she was spending a day, a letter which had fallen into
his hands, I wot not how, in the which Philip--God forgive
him!--expressed some kind of doubt if he was truly married to her or
not. Some wily wretch had, I ween, whispered to him, in an evil hour,
this accursed thought. When she saw this misdoubt written in his hand
she straightway fell down in a swoon, which recovering from, the first
thing she did was to ask for her cloak and hat, and would have walked
alone to her house if I had not stayed her almost by force, until Lord
Arundel's coach could be got ready for her. In less than two hours she
returned with so wan and death-like a countenance that it frighted me
to see her, and for some time she would not speak of what had passed
between her lord and herself; only she asked for to stay always in
this house, if it should please her grandfather, and not to part from
us any more. At the which speech I could but kiss her, and with many
tears protest that this should be the joyfullest news in the world to
Lord Arundel and to me, and what he would most desire, if it were not
for her grief, which, like an ill wind, yet did blow us this good.
'Yea,' she answered, with the deepest sigh which can be thought of, 'a
cold, withering blast which driveth me from the shelter which should
be mine! I have heard it said that when Cardinal Wolsey lay a-dying he
cried, "It were well with me now if I had served my God with the like
zeal with which I have served my king," or some words of that sort.
Oh, my Lady Lumley!' the poor child exclaimed, 'if I had not loved
Philip more than God and his Church, methinks I should not thus be
cast off!' 'Cast off,' I cried; 'and has my graceless nephew, then,
been so wicked?' 'Oh, he is changed,' she answered--'he is changed.
In his eyes, in his voice, I found not Philip's looks, nor Philip's
tones. Nought but harshness and impatience to dismiss me. The queen,
he said, was coming to rest at his house on her way to the city, and
he lacked leisure to listen to my complaints. Then I felt grief and
anger rise in my breast with such vehemency that I charged him, maybe
too suddenly, with the doubt he had expressed in his letter to my Lord
Oxford. His face flushed deeply; but drawing up haughtily, as one
aggrieved, he said the manner of our marrying had been so unusual that
there were some, and those persons well qualified to judge, who
misdoubted if there did not exist a flaw in its validity. That he
should himself be loth to think so, but that to seek at that moment to
prove the contrary, when his fortunes hung on a thread, would be to
ruin him.'
"There she paused, and clasped her hands together as if scarce able to
proceed; but soon raising her head, she related in a passionate manner
how her heart had then swelled well-nigh to bursting, pride and
tenderness restraining the utterance of such resentful thoughts as
rose in her when she remembered his father's last letter, wherein he
said his chief prop and stay in his fallen estate should be the wife
he had bestowed on him; of her own lands sold for the supply of his
prodigal courtiership; of her long patience and pleading for him to
others; and this his present treatment of her, which no wife could
brook, even if of mean birth and virtue, much loss one his equal in
condition, as well dowered as any in the land, and as faithful
and tender to him as he did prove untoward to her. But none of these
reproaches passed her lips; for it was an impossible thing to her, she
said, to urge her own deserts, or so much as mention the fortune she
had brought him. Only twice she repeated, 'Ruin your fortunes, my
lord! ruin your fortunes! God help me, I had thought rather to mend
them!' And then, when he tried to answer her in some sort of evading
fashion, as if unsaying, and yet not wholly denying his former speech,
she broke forth (and in the relation of this scene the passion of her
grief renewed itself) in vehement adjurations, which seemed somewhat
to move him, not to be so unjust to her or to himself as to leave that
in uncertainty which so nearly touched both their honors; and if the
thought of a mutual love once existing between them, and a firm bond
of marriage relied on with unshaken security, and his father's dying
blessing on it, and the humble duty she had shown him from the time
she had borne his name, sufficed not to resolve him thereunto, yet for
the sake of justice to one fatherless and brotherless as herself, she
charged him without delay to make that clear which, left uncertain,
concerned her more nearly than fortune or state, and without which no,
not one day, would she abide in his house. Then the sweet soul said
she hoped, from his not ungracious silence and the working of his
features, which visibly revealed an inward struggle, that his next
words should have been of comfort to her; but when she had drawn nigh
to him, and, taking his hand, called him by his name with so much of
reproachful endearment as could be expressed in the utterance of it, a
gentleman broke into the room crying out: 'My lord, my lord, the
trumpets do sound! The queen's coach is in sight.' Upon which, she
said that, with a muttered oath, he started up and almost thrust her
from him, saying, 'For God's sake, be gone!' And by a back-door,' she
added, 'I went out of mine own house into the street, where I had left
my Lord Arundel's coach, and crept into it, very faint and giddy, the
while the queen's coach did enter the court with gay banners waving,
and striking-up of music, and the people crying out, "God bless the
queen!" I cry God mercy for it,' she said, 'but I could not say amen.'
Now she is resolved," my Lady Lumley continued, "never to set her foot
again in any of her husband's houses, except he doth himself entreat
her to it, and makes that matter clear touching his belief in the
validity of their marriage; and methinks she is right therein. My Lord
Arundel hath written to remonstrate with his grandson touching his
ill-usage of his lady, and hath also addressed her majesty thereupon.
But all the comment she did make on his letter, I have been told, was
this: 'That she had heard my Lord Arundel was in his dotage; and
verily she did now hold it to be so, for that she had never received a
more foolish letter; and she did pity the old white horse, which was
now only fit to be turned out to grass;' and other biting jests,
which, when a sovereign doth utter them, carry with them a rare
poignancy."
Then my Lady Lumley wiped her eyes, and bade me to be of good cheer,
and not to grieve overmuch for Lady Surrey's troubles (but all the
while her own tears continued to flow), for that she had so noble and
religious a disposition, with germs of so much virtue in it, that she
thought her to be one of those souls whom Almighty God draws to
himself by means of such trials as would sink common natures; and that
she had already marked how, in much prayer, ever-increasing good
works, and reading of books which treat of wholesome doctrine and
instruction, she presently recalled the teachings of her childhood,
and took occasion, when any Catholics came to the house, to converse
with them touching religion. Then, with many kind expressions, she
dismissed me; and on the stairs, as I went out, I met Lady
Surrey, who noticed mine eyes to be red with weeping, and, embracing
me, said:
"I ween Lady Lumley hath been no hider of my griefs, good Constance,
and, i' faith, I am obliged to her if she hath told thee that which I
would fain not speak of, even to thee, dear wench. There are sorrows
best borne in silence; and since the last days we talked together mine
have grown to be of that sort. And so farewell for to-day, and may God
comfort thee in thy nobler troubles, and send his angels to thine
aid."
When I returned to Holborn, Mistress Ward met me with the news that
she had been to the prison, and heard that Mr. Watson was to be
strenuously examined on an approaching day--and it is well known what
that doth signify--touching the names of the persons which had
harbored him since his coming to England. And albeit he was now
purposed steadily to endure extreme torments sooner than to deny his
faith or injure others, she did so much apprehend the weakness of
nature should betray him, that her resolve was taken to attempt the
next day, or rather on the following night, to further his escape. But
how, she asked, could my father be dealt with in time touching that
matter? I told her I was to see him on the morrow, by means of an
order from Sir Francis Walsingham, and should then lay before him the
issues offered unto his election. She said she was very much contented
to hear it; and added, she must now secure boatmen to assist in the
escape who should be reliable Catholic men; and if in this she did
succeed, she feared not to fail in her design.
At the hour I had fixed upon with Hubert, on the next day, he came to
carry me to the prison at Bridewell. Mistress Ward prevailed on Mr.
Congleton to go thither with us, for she was loth to be seen there in
company with known persons, and added privily in mine ear, "The more
so at a time when it may happen I should get into trouble touching the
matter I have in hand." When we reached the place, Hubert presented to
the gaoler Sir Francis's letter, which was also signed by the
governor, and I was forthwith conducted to my father's cell. When I
entered it, and advanced toward that dear prisoner, I dared not in the
man's presence to show either the joy or grief I felt at that meeting,
but stood by his side like one deprived of the power of speech, and
only struggling to restrain my tears. I feared we should not have been
left alone, and then this interview should have proved of little use
or comfort; but after setting for me a chair, which he had sent
for--for there was only one small bench in the cell--this officer
withdrew, and locked the door on me and that dear parent, whose face
was very white and wan, but who spoke in as cheerful and kind a manner
as can be thought of, albeit taxing me with wilfulness for that I had
not complied with his behest that none should come to visit him. I
would not have the chair which had been sent for me--for I did hold
it to be an unbecoming thing for a daughter to sit down in her
father's presence (and he a priest), who had only a poor bench to rest
his limbs on--but placed myself on the ground at his feet; which at
first he misliked, but afterward said it should be as I pleased. Then,
after some affectionate speeches, wherein his great goodness toward me
was shown, and my answers to them, which disburthened my heart of some
of the weight which oppressed it, as did likewise the shedding of a
few tears on his hand, which was clasped in mine, I spoke, in case
time should press, of Sir Francis's offer, and the condition thereunto
attached, which I did with a trembling voice, and yet such indifferent
tones as I could affect, as if showing no leaning to one way of
thinking or the other, touching his acceptance of these terms. In the
brief time which did elapse between my speaking and his reply,
methinks I had an equal fear lest he should assent or dissent
therein--filial love mightfully prompting me to desire his acceptance
of this means of deliverance, yet coupled with an apprehension that in
that case he should stand one degree less high in the favor of God and
the eyes of men. But I was angered with myself that I should have mine
own thoughts therein, or in any way form a judgment forestalling his,
which peradventure would see no evil in this concession; and
forecasting also the consequences which should ensue if he refused, I
resolved to move him thereunto by some such words as these: "My dearly
beloved father, if it be possible, I pray you yield this small matter
to those that seek to save your life. Let the minister come to satisfy
Sir Francis, and all shall be well, yea, without your speaking one
word, or by so much as one look assenting to his arguments."
I dared not to meet his eyes, which he fixed on me, but kept kissing
his hand whilst he said: "Daughter Constance, labor not to move me in
this matter; for far above all other things I may have to suffer,
nothing would touch me so near, or be so grievous to me, as to see
you, my well-beloved child, try to persuade me unto that which in
respect of my soul I will never consent to. For, I pray you, first as
regards religion, can I suffer any to think, albeit I should give no
cause for it but silence, that my faith is in any wise shaken, which
peradventure would prove a stumbling-block to others? or, touching
truth and honesty, shall I accept life and freedom on some such
supposition as that I am like to change my religion, when I should as
soon think to cast myself into hell of mine own free will as to deny
one point of Catholic belief? No, no, mine own good child; 'tis a
narrow path which doth lead to heaven, and maybe it shall prove
exceeding narrow for me ere I reach its end, and not over easy to the
feet or pleasant to the eye; but God defend I should by so much as one
hair's-breadth overpass a narrowness which tendeth to so good a
conclusion; and verily, to be short, my good child, tender my thanks
to Sir Francis Walsingham--who I doubt not meaneth excellently well by
me--and to young Master Rookwood, who hath dealt with him therein;
but tell them I am very well pleased with my present abode as long as
it shall please God to keep me in this world; and when he willeth me
to leave it, believe me, daughter Constance, the quickest road to
heaven shall be the most pleasing to me."
His manner was so resolved that I urged him no further, and only
heaved a deep sigh. Then he said, kindly: "Come, mine own good child,
give me so much comfort as to let me hear that thou art of the same
way of thinking in this matter as thy unworthy but very resolved
father."
"My dear father," I replied, "methinks I never loved you so well, or
honored you one half so much as now, when you have cast off all human
consolation, yea, and a certain hope of deliverance, rather than give
occasion to the enemies of our faith to boast they had prevailed on
you, in ever so small a matter, to falter in the open profession
thereof; and I pray God, if ever I should be in a like plight, I may
not prove myself to be otherwise than your true child in spirit as in
nature. As to what shall now follow your refusal, it lieth in God's
hands, and I know he can deliver you, if he doth will it, from this
great peril you are in."
"There's my brave wench," quoth he then, laying his scarred hand on my
head; "thy mother had a prophetic spirit, I ween, when she said of
thee when yet a puling girl, 'As her days, so shall her strength be.'
Verily God is very good, who hath granted us these moments of peaceful
converse in a place where we had once little thought for to meet."
As I looked upon him, sitting on a poor bench in that comfortless
cell, his noble fair visage oldened by hardships and toils rather than
years, his eyes so full of peace, yea of contentment, that joy
seemed to beam in them, I thought of the words of Holy Writ, which do
foretell which shall be said hereafter of the just by such as have
afflicted them and taken away their labors: "There are they whom we
had some time in derision and for a parable of reproach. We fools
esteemed their life madness and their end without honor. Behold, how
they are numbered with the children of God, and their lot amongst the
saints."
At that time a knock against the wall was heard, and my father set his
ear against it, counting the number of such knocks; for it was Mr.
Watson, he said, beginning to converse with him in their wonted
fashion. "I will tell him I am engaged," quoth he, in his turn tapping
in the same manner. "But peradventure he hath somewhat to
communicate," I said.
"No," he answered, "for in that case he would have knocked three times
at first, for on this signal we have agreed." Smiling, he added, "We
do confess to each other in this way. 'Tis somewhat tedious, I do
admit; but thanks be to God we lack not leisure here for such duties."
Then I briefly told him of Mistress Ward's intent to procure Mr.
Watson's escape.
"Ay," he said, "I am privy to it, and I do pray God it may succeed. It
should be to me the greatest joy in the world to hear that good man
was set free, or made free by any good means."
"Then," I added, "will you not join in the attempt, if so be she can
convey to you a cord? and the same boat should carry you both off."
"Nay," he replied; "for more reasons than one I am resolved against
that in mine own case which in Mr. Watson's I do commend. This
enterprise must needs bring that good woman, Mrs. Ward, into some sort
of danger, which she doth well to run for his sake, and which he doth
not wrong to consent unto, she being of a willing mind to encounter
it. For if the extremity of torture should extort the admissions they
do seek from him, many should then grievously suffer, and mostly his
own soul. But I have that trust in God, who hath given me in all my
late perils what nature had verily not furnished me with, an undaunted
spirit to meet sufferings with somewhat more than fortitude, with a
very great joy such as his grace can only bestow, that he will
continue to do so, whatever straits I do find myself in; and being so
minded, I am resolved not again by mine own doing to put mine own and
others' lives in jeopardy; but to take what he shall send in the
ordinary course of things, throwing all my care on him, without whose
knowledge and will not so much as one hair of our heads doth fall to
the ground. But I am glad to be privy to the matter in hand for Mr.
Watson, so as to pray for him this day and night, and also for that
noble soul who doth show herself so true a Christian in her care for
his weal and salvation."
Then, changing to other themes, he inquired of me at some length
touching the passages of my life since he had parted with me, and my
dispositions touching the state of life I was about to embrace,
concerning which he gave me the most profitable instructions which can
be thought of, and rules of virtue, which, albeit imperfectly
observed, have proved of so great and wholesome guidance to my
inexperienced years that I do stand more indebted to him for this fine
advice, there given me, than for all other benefits besides. He then
spoke of Edmund Genings, who, by a special dispensation of the Pope,
had lately been ordained priest, being but twenty-three years of age,
and said the preparation he had made for receiving this holy order was
very great, and the impression the greatness of the charge made upon
his mind so strong, that it produced a wonderful effect in his very
body, affecting for a time his health. He was infirmarian at Rheims,
and labored among the sick students, a very model of piety and
humility; but _vivamus in spe_ was still, as heretofore, his motto,
and that hope in which he lived was to be sent upon the English
mission. These, my father said, were the last tidings he had heard of
him. His mother he did believe was dead, and his younger brother had
left La Rochelle and was in Paris, leading a more gay life than was
desirable. "And now I pray you, mine own dear honored father," I said,
"favor me, I beseech you, with a recital of your own haps since you
landed in England, and I ceased to receive letters from you." He
condescended to my request, in the words which do follow:
"Well, my good child, I arrived in this country one year and five
months back, having by earnest suit and no small difficulty obtained
from my superiors to be sent on the English mission; for by reason of
the weakness of my health, and some use I was of in the college, owing
to my acquaintanceship with the French and the English languages, Dr.
Allen was loth to permit my departure. I crossed the seas in a small
merchant-vessel, and landed at Lynn. The port-officers searched me to
the skin, and found nothing on me; but one Sledd, an informer, which
had met me in an inn at Honfleur, where I had lodged for some days
before sailing for England, had taken my marks very precisely; and
arriving in London some time before I landed in Norfolk, having been
stayed by contrary winds in my longer passage, he there presented my
name and marks; upon which the queen's council sent to the searchers
of the ports. These found the said marks very apparent in me; but for
the avoiding of charges, the mayor of the place, one Mr. Alcock, and
Rawlins the searcher, requested a gentleman which had landed at the
same time with me, and who called himself Haward, to carry me as a
prisoner to the lord-lieutenant of the county. He agreed very easily
thereunto; but as soon as we were out of the town, 'I cannot,' says
this gentleman, 'in conscience, nor will not, being myself a Catholic,
deliver you, a Catholic priest, prisoner to the lord-lieutenant. But
we will go straight to Norwich, and when we come there, shift for
yourself, as I will do for myself.'
"Coming to Norwich, I went immediately to one of the gaols, and
conferred with a Catholic, a friend of mine, which by chance I found
out to be there imprisoned for recusancy. I recounted to him the order
of my apprehension and escape; and he told me that in conscience I
could not make that escape, and persuaded me I ought to yield myself
prisoner; whereupon I went to my friend Haward, whom, through the
aforesaid Catholic prisoner, I found to be no other than Dr. Ely, a
professor of canon and civil law at Douay. I requested him to deliver
to me the mayor's letter to the lord-lieutenant. 'Why, what will you
do with it?' said he. 'I will go,' I said, 'and carry it to him, and
yield myself a prisoner; for I am not satisfied I can make this escape
in conscience, having had a contrary opinion thereon.' And I told him
what that prisoner I had just seen had urged. 'Why,' said Haward,
'this counsel which hath been given you proceedeth, I confess, from a
zealous mind; but I doubt whether it carrieth with it the weight of
knowledge. You shall not have the letter, nor you may not in
conscience yield yourself to the persecutors, having so good means
offered to escape their cruelty.' But as I still persisted in my
demand, 'Well,' said Mr. Haward, 'seeing you will not be turned by me
from this opinion, let us go first and consult with such a man,' and
he named one newly come over, who was concealed at the house of a
Catholic not very far off. This was a man of singular wit aid
learning, and of such rare virtues that I honored and reverenced him
greatly, which Mr. Haward perceiving, he said, with a smile, 'If he be
of your opinion, you shall have the letter, and go in God's name!'
When we came to him, he utterly disliked of my intention, and
dissuaded me from what he said was a fond cogitation. So being
assuaged, I went quietly about my business, and travelled for the
space of more than a year from one Catholic house to another in
Norfolk and Suffolk, ministering the sacraments to recusants, and
reconciling many to the Church, which, from fear or lack of
instruction or spiritual counsel, or only indifferency, had conformed
to the times. Methinks, daughter Constance, for one such year a man
should be willing to lay down a thousand lives, albeit, or rather
because, as St. Paul saith, he be 'in journeyings often, in perils
from his own nation, in perils from false brethren' (oh, how true and
applicable do these words prove to the Catholics of this land!), 'in
perils in the city, in perils of the wilderness, in perils of the
sea.' And if it pleases God now to send me labors of another sort, so
that I may be in prisons frequently, in stripes above measure, and,
finally, in death itself, his true servant,--oh, believe me, my good
child, the right fair house I once had, with its library and garden
and orchard, and everything so handsome about us, and the company of
thy sweet mother, and thy winsome childish looks of love, never gave
me so much heartfelt joy and comfort as the new similitude I
experience, and greater I hope to come, to my loved and only Master's
sufferings and death!"
At this time of his recital my tears flowed abundantly; but with an
imparted sweetness, which, like a reflected light, shone from his soul
on mine. But to stay my weeping he changed his tone, and said with
good cheer:
"Come now, my wench, I will presently make thee merry by the recital
of a strait in which I once found myself, and which maketh me to laugh
to think on it, albeit at the time, I warrant thee, it was like to
prove no laughable matter. It happened that year I speak of that I was
once secretly sent for by a courtlike gentleman of good wealth that
had lived in much bravery, and was then sick and lying in great pain.
He had fallen into a vehement agitation and deep study of the life to
come; and thereupon called for a priest--for in mind and opinion he
was Catholic--that he might learn from him to die well. According to
the custom of the Church, I did admonish him, among other things, that
if he had any way hurt or injured any man, or unjustly possessed other
men's goods, he should go about by-and-by to make restitution
according to his ability. He agreed to do so, and called to mind that
he had taken away something from a certain Calvinist, under pretence
of law indeed, but not under any good assurance for a Catholic
conscience to trust to. Therefore, he took order for restitution to be
made, and died. The widow, his wife, was very anxious to accomplish
her husband's will; but being afraid to commit the matter to any one,
her perplexed mind was entangled in briers of doubtfulness. She one
day declared her grief unto me, and beseeched me, for God's sake, to
help her with my counsel and travail. So, seeing her distress, I
proffered to put myself in any peril that might befall in the doing of
this thing; but, indeed, persuaded myself that no man would be so
perverse as of a benefit to desire revengement. Therefore committing
the matter to God, I mounted on horseback, and away I went on my
journey. When I came to the town where the man did dwell to whom the
money was to be delivered, I set up my horse in the next inn, that I
might be readier at hand to scape immediately after my business was
despatched. I then went to the creditor's house, and called the man
forth alone, taking him by the hand and leading him aside from the
company of others. Then I declared to him that I had money for him,
which I would deliver into his hands with this condition, that he
inquired no further either who sent or who brought it unto him, or
what the cause and matter was, but only receive the money and
use it as his own. The old fellow promised fair, and with a good will
gave his word faithfully so to do, and with many thanks sent me away.
With all the speed I was able to make, I hastened to mine host's
house, for to catch hold of my horse and fly away. But forthwith the
deceitful old fellow betrayed me, and sent men after to apprehend me,
not supposing me this time to be a priest, but making the surmise
against me that forsooth I was not a man but a devil, which had
brought money of mine own making to bewitch him. All the people of the
town, when they heard the rumor, confirmed the argument, with this
proof among others, that I had a black horse, and gave orders for to
watch the animal diligently, whether he did eat hay as other horses,
or no. As for me, they put a horse-lock about my leg, shut me up close
in a strong chamber, and appointed a fellow to be with me continually,
night and day, which should watch if I did put off my boots at any
time, and if my feet were like horses' feet, or that I was
cloven-footed, or had feet slit and forked as beasts have; for this
they affirmed to be a special mark whereby to know the devil when he
lieth lurking under the shape and likeness of a man. Then the people
assembled about the house in great numbers, and proffered money
largely that they might see this monster with their own eyes; for by
this time they were persuaded that I was indeed an ill spirit, or the
very devil. 'For what man was ever heard of,' said they, 'which, if he
had the mind, understanding, and sense of a man, would, of his own
voluntary will, and without any respect or consideration at all, give
or proffer such a sum of money to a man utterly unknown?' God knowcth
what should have ensued if some hours later it had not chanced that
Sir Henry Stafford did ride into the town, and, seeing a great
concourse of people at the door of the inn, he stopped to inquire into
the cause; which when it was related to him, he said he was a
magistrate, and should himself examine, face to face, this limb of
Satan. So I was taken before him into the parlor; and being alone with
him, and knowing him to be well-disposed in religion, albeit
conforming to the times, I explained in a general manner what sort of
an errand had brought me to that place. Methinks he guessed me to be a
priest, although he said nothing thereon, but only licensed me to
depart and go away whither I would, himself letting me out of the
house through a back-door. I have heard since that he harangued the
people from the balcony, and told them, that whilst he was examining
me a strong smell of sulphur had come into the chamber, and a pack of
devils carried me off through the window into the air; and he doubted
not I had by that time returned to mine own lodging in hell. Which he
did, I knew, for to prevent their pursuing me and using such violence
as he might not have had means to hinder."
"It was not, then," I asked, "on this occasion you were apprehended
and taken to Wisbeach?"
"No," he answered; "nor indeed can I be said to have been apprehended
at all, for it happened in this wise that I became a prisoner. I was
one day in Norwich, whither I had gone to baptize a child, and, as
Providence would have it, met with Haward, by whose means I had been
set at liberty one year before. After ordinary salutations, he said to
me, 'Mr. Tunstall' (for by that name only he knew me), 'the host of
the inn where you were taken last year says I have undone him, by
suffering the prisoner I had promised to deliver to escape; for he
having been my surety with the mayor, he is threatened with eight
months' imprisonment, or the payment of a large fine. He hath come to
this town for to seek me, and hath seized upon me on this charge; so
that I be only at liberty for six hours, for I promised that I
would bring you to him by four o'clock (a Catholic merchant yielding
him security thereof), or else that I should deliver him my body
again. 'I am content,' he said, 'so that I have one of you two.' So
either you, Mr. Tunstall, or I, must needs go to prison. You know my
state and condition, and may guess how I shall be treated, if once I
appear under my right name before them. You know, also, your own
state. Now, it is in your choice whether of us shall go; for one must
go; there is no remedy; and to force you I will not, for I had rather
sustain any punishment whatsoever.' 'Now God be blessed,' I cried,
'that he hath thrown me in your way at this time, for I should never
while I lived have been without scruple if you had gone to prison in
my stead. Nothing grieveth me in this but that I have not finished off
some business I had in this town touching a person in some distress of
mind.' 'Why,' said Haward, 'it is but ten o'clock yet; you may
despatch your business by four of the clock, and then you may go to
the sign of the Star and inquire for one Mr. Andrews, the
lord-lieutenant's deputy, and to him you may surrender yourself.' 'So
I will,' I said; and so we parted. At four of the clock I surrendered
myself, and was straightway despatched to Wisbeach Castle, where I
remained for three months. A message reached me there that a Catholic
which had led a very wicked life, and was lying on his death-bed, was
almost beside himself for that he could get no priest to come to him.
The person which delivered this advertisement left some ropes with me,
by which means I escaped out of the window into the moat with such
damage to my hands that I was like to lose the use of them, and
perhaps of my life, if these wounds had mortified before good Lady
l'Estrange dressed them. But I reached the poor sinner, which had
proved the occasion of my escaping, in time for to give him
absolution, and from Mr. Rugeley's house visited many Catholics in
that neighborhood. The rest is well known to thee, my good child. . . ."
As he was speaking these words the door of the cell opened, and the
gaoler advertised me I could tarry no longer; so, with many blessings,
my dear father dismissed me, and I went home with Mr. Congleton and
Hubert, who anxiously inquired what his answer had been to the
proposal I had carried to him.
"A most resolved denial of the conditions attached to it," I said,
"joined to many grateful acknowledgments to Sir Francis and to you
also for your efforts in his favor."
"'Tis madness!" he exclaimed.
"Yea," I answered, "such madness as the heathen governor did charge
St. Paul with."
And so no more passed between us whilst we rode back to Holborn. Mr.
Congleton put questions to me touching my father's health and his
looks,--if he seemed of good cheer, and spoke merrily as he used to
do; and then we all continued silent. When we arrived at Ely Place,
Hubert refused to come into the house, but detained me on the outward
steps, as if desirous to converse with me alone. Thinking I had spoken
to him in the coach in an abrupt manner which savored of ingratitude,
I said more gently, "I am very much beholden to you, Hubert, for your
well-meaning toward my father."
"I would fain continue to help you," he answered in an agitated voice.
"Constance," he exclaimed, after a pause, "your father is in a very
dangerous plight."
"I know it," said I, quickly; "but I know, too, he is resolved and
content to die rather than swerve an inch from his duty to God and his
Church."
"But," quoth he then, "do you wish to save him?"
I looked at him amazed. "Wish it! God knoweth that to see him in
safety I would have my hand cut off,--yea, and my head also."
"What, and rob him of his expectant crown--the martyr's palm, and all
the rest of it?" he said, with a perceptible sneer.
"Hubert!" I passionately exclaimed, "you are investigable to me; you
chill my soul with your half-uttered sentences and uncertain meanings!
Once, I remember, you could speak nobly,--yea, and feel so too, as
much as any one. Heaven shield you be not wholly changed!"
"Changed!" quoth he, in a low voice, "I am changed;" and then abruptly
altering his manner, and leaving me in doubt as to the change he did
intend to speak of, he pressed me to take no measures touching my
father's release till he had spoken with me again; for he said if his
real name became known, or others dealt in the matter, all hope on Sir
Francis's side should be at an end. He then asked me if I had heard of
Basil lately. I told him of the letter I had had from him at
Kenninghall some weeks back. He said a report had reached him that he
had landed at Dover and was coming to London; but he hoped it was not
true, for that Sir Henry Stafford was very urgent he should continue
abroad till the expiration of his wardship.
I said, "If he was returned, it must surely be for some sufficient
cause, but that I had heard nothing thereof, and had no reason to
expect it."
"But you would know it, I presume, if he was in London?" he urged. I
misliked his manner, which always put me in mind of one in the dark,
which feeleth his way as he advances, and goeth not straight to the
point.
"_Is_ Basil in England?" I inquired, fixing mine eyes on him, and with
a flutter at my heart from the thought that it should be possible.
"I heard he was," he answered in a careless tone; "but I think it not
to be true. If he should come whilst this matter is in hand, I do
conjure you, Constance, if you value your father's existence and
Basil's also, let him not into this secret."
"Wherefore not?" I quickly answered. "Why should one meet to be
trusted, and by me above all other persons in the world, be kept
ignorant of what so nearly doth touch me?"
"Because," he said, "there is a rashness in his nature which will
assuredly cause him to run headlong into danger if not forcibly
withheld from the occasions of it."
"I have seen no tokens of such rashness as you speak of in him," I
replied; "only of a boldness such as well becomes a Christian and a
gentleman."
"Constance Sherwood!" Hubert exclaimed, and seized hold of my hand
with a vehemency which caused me to start, "I do entreat you, yea, on
my bended knees, if needs be, I will beseech you to beware of that
indomitable and resolved spirit which sets at defiance restraint,
prudence, pity even; which leads you to brave your friends, spurn
wholesome counsel, rush headlong into perils which I forewarn you do
hang thickly about your path. If I can conjure them, I care not by
what means, I will do so; but for the sake of all you do hold dear,
curb your natural impetuosity, which may prove the undoing of those
you most desire to serve."
There was a plausibility in this speech, and in mine own knowledge of
myself some sort of a confirmation of what he did charge me with,
which inclined me somewhat to diffide of mine own judgment in this
matter, and not to turn a wholly deaf ear to his advertisement. He had
the most persuasive tongue in the world, and a rare art at
representing things under whatever aspect he chose. He dealt so
cunningly therein with me that day, and used so many ingenious
arguments, that I said I should be very careful how I disclosed
anything to Basil or any one else touching my father's imprisonment,
who Mr. Tunstall was, and my near concern in his fate; but would give
no promise thereupon: so he was forced to content himself with as much
as he could obtain, and withdrew himself for that day, he said;
but promised to return on the morrow.