|Having vainly solicited a pardon for her husband, the Countess of
Nithsdale, a woman of great courage, as well as of great personal
attractions, resolved to make an attempt to liberate him.
Before putting her project in execution she found a place of refuge,
where the earl might remain safely concealed till he could embark for
France.
This done, on the last day it was thought he had to live, she drove to
the Tower gate in a hackney-coach, and dismissed the vehicle.
She was accompanied by two female attendants, and seemed so utterly
prostrated by grief, that she needed their assistance.
Her attendants wore hoods and cloaks, but not in such a manner as to
appear like a disguise.
The earl was confined in a distant fortification situated in the
north-west angle of the inner ward, and it seemed certain that the
countess would never have got there without support.
A sentinel was stationed at the entrance of the prison lodging, but as
the party were preceded by a jailer they passed without question.
When the massive door of his prison chamber was unlocked, Lord Nithsdale
came forth from a small inner room, or cell, and perceiving his wife
uttered a cry, and clasped her to his breast.
Shortly afterwards, the jailer who was stationed outside, was summoned
by one of the female attendants. She told him her services were no
longer required, and after a very slight scrutiny he suffered her to
depart.
But this active confidante had stayed long enough to divest herself of
an additional dress with which she was provided.
This dress was meant as a disguise for the earl, while it was intended
that her fellow-servant should personate the afflicted countess.
The exchanges of attire were quickly made.
The earl, whose slight figure and small stature suited the part he had
to play, was transformed into a lady's maid; and the representative of
the countess was duly prepared for the part she had to enact.
All was now ready, but it was deemed prudent to wait nearly an hour, and
it will be guessed what anxiety was felt in the interval.
At length, the jailer was called.
On unlocking the door, he beheld the earl as he thought, in an attitude
of despair, leaning on the table, with his face covered by his hands.
The unhappy countess was overwhelmed by grief, and had to be led forth
by her attendant, who was muffled up in her hood to hide her own tears.
The jailer's stony heart was touched by so much grief. He let them out
without a word, fastened the door, and following them down the circular
stone steps, offered in a kindly tone to conduct them to the gate.
The countess murmured her thanks, and the man marched on before them,
and saved them from any interference, receiving a piece of gold for his
pains, when he left them at the Bulwark Gate.
“Tell your lady,” he said to the attendant, who gave him the gratuity,
“that I will do all I can for his lordship to-morrow.”
He would have called a coach, but they took a boat and crossed to the
other side of the river.
The first person to enter the prison-chamber after the earl's flight was
the Lieutenant of the Tower.
He was filled with consternation on perceiving that its sole occupant
was a very handsome woman.
“The Countess of Nithsdale here!” he exclaimed. “The earl then has
escaped?”
“Solely by my connivance,” she replied. “No one here has been concerned
in the flight.”
“That remains to be ascertained,” rejoined the Lieutenant. “But your
ladyship's life will be responsible for that of your husband.”
“My husband is safe, and that is enough for me!” cried the countess,
joyfully.
“But he may be recaptured,” said the Lieutenant.
“I have no uneasiness on that score,” she rejoined. “My precautions have
been too well taken.”
“Well, I must detain your ladyship,” said the Lieutenant. “And I know
not what course may be pursued; but I will frankly own that I hope you
may be able to rejoin your lord.”
This good wish was eventually fulfilled.