Preston Fight by W. Harrison Ainsworth

The unhappy countess was staying at Dagenham Park, an old manorial mansion, near Romford in Essex, belonging to a Roman Catholic family, and she came over every day to the Tower, accompanied by Father Norman, in the hope of seeing her husband.

Latterly, permission had been refused her, but, on the day before the execution, she was allowed to visit him with the priest.

Not having seen him for a few days, she was much struck by the change in his appearance. His countenance had a very serene expression. All trouble had vanished from it, and it was plain from his looks that his thoughts were fixed on high.

“You have no longer any fear of death, I perceive, my son,” said Father Norman.

“I have no desire for life, father,” he replied. “I am better prepared to die than I might be at a future time, were my days prolonged.”

“I shall soon rejoin you, my lord,” said the countess.

“No, live!-I would have you live,” he cried. “You are young, beautiful-and I trust have many years of happiness before you. I would not have them abridged. But think of me always-think how fondly I have loved you-think how entirely happy I have been in your society. Never for a single moment has my heart swerved from its devotion to you. Fate has separated us for a time-but it was against my will. My love has been sacrificed to my sense of duty.”

“I know it, my dearest lord,” she cried, with a look of anguish. “Oh! how bitterly I reproach myself that I urged you to join this fatal expedition. Would I could recall the past! Would we could be at Dilston together as in former days! Never! never should you leave it! But I must not speak of the past.”

“Nay, it does not pain me,” said the earl, tenderly. “Let us quit this dungeon for a moment in thought, and transport ourselves to Dilston. Let us stand together-as we have so often stood-upon the terrace, and gaze upon the far-spreading prospect. Ah! the scene rises before me, as I speak! We are in the glen, wandering by the side of the stream. We are in the forest, and I enter the Maiden’s Walk, and receive a warning.”

“What more?” cried the countess.

“Nothing,” replied the earl. “The vision has disappeared. Alas! my sweet love, Dilston will be yours no more. The house you have brightened with your presence will be taken from you. I cannot bequeath it to you. Yet I should wish to be laid with my fathers in the vault beneath the little chapel.”

“It shall be done, my dearest lord,” she cried, earnestly. “Your wishes shall be fulfilled.”

“I do not think that resting-place will be denied me,” said the earl.

“Have no fear, my lord,” said Father Norman. “The malice of your enemies will not extend to that length. All shall be done as you desire. When the tragedy is over, the body shall be conveyed by slow stages-and only by night-to Dilston. During the day it shall rest in some Catholic chapel, and masses shall be said.”

“I will accompany it, and see the last sad rites performed,” said the countess.

“You give me inexpressible comfort,” said the earl. “It was the sole request I had to prefer.”

Shortly afterwards the earl retired with Father Norman into the cell adjoining the prison-chamber, where the priest heard his confession, and gave him absolution.

During this interval, the countess knelt down and prayed fervently.

At length, the earl came forth, and she arose, perceiving from his looks that the moment of parting was come.

He extended his arms, and flying towards him, she was clasped to his breast.

Thus they remained for some minutes amid a silence, broken only by her sobs.

He then made a slight effort to loosen her embrace, but she clung to him even more tenaciously.

“We must part, my best beloved,” he said, printing a kiss upon her brow.

“Oh! I knew not the anguish of this hour,” she cried. “Would my heart would break and relieve me!”

“For your husband’s sake, calm yourself, dear daughter, I implore you!” said the priest.