The Tower Of London by W. Harrison Ainsworth

“Heed him not, Magog,” whispered Xit. “I am sure her highness will approve our conduct. At all events, I take the responsibility of the arrest upon myself—though I promise thee, if there is any reward, thou shalt share it. I arrived at a critical minute for your lordship,” he added, in an undertone to Courtenay. “Your adversary’s blade was within an inch of your breast.”

“Peace, knave,” cried Courtenay.

“Bring them along, Magog,” said Xit, “while I run to the palace to apprise her majesty of the occurrence, and ascertain her pleasure concerning them.”

“Hold!” exclaimed Courtenay. “Take this purse, and keep silence on the subject.”

“No, my lord,” replied Xit, with an offended look, “I am above a bribe. Had your lordship—but no matter. Magog, you will answer for their peaceable conduct. I am off to the palace.”

And he hurried away, while the giant followed at a slow pace with Courtenay and Renard.

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CHAPTER X

OF THE CONFERENCE HELD BETWEEN BISHOP GARDINER AND LADY JANE GREY IN THE BEAUCHAMP TOWER

DURING all this time, Jane was kept a close prisoner in the Brick Tower, and neither allowed to hold any intercourse with her husband, nor to correspond with him. Heart-breaking as the deprivation was to her in the first instance, she became in some degree reconciled to it, on learning from her jailer, who displayed as much humanity towards her as was consistent with his office, that he bore his fate with the utmost fortitude and resignation.

Entertaining no hopes of mercy, Jane’s whole time was past in preparation for her end. Except the few hours of refreshment actually required by nature, every moment was devoted to the most intense application, or to fervent prayer. By degrees, all trace of sorrow vanished from her features, and they assumed a spiritualised and almost angelic expression. Lovely as she was before, she looked far more lovely now—or rather her beauty was of a more refined and exalted character. She was frequently visited by the queen’s confessor, Feckenham, who used every effort to induce her to renounce her religion, but in vain. When told that the sure way to her majesty’s favour would be to embrace the faith of Rome, she replied that, anxious as she was to obtain the queen’s forgiveness, she could not purchase it at the price of her salvation, and that the only favour she desired was to pass the brief residue of her days unmolested. Northumberland’s apostacy was a terrible shock to her. Feckenham brought the intelligence, and boasted of the convert the Catholic Church had gained.

“You may have induced the duke to recant with his lips, sir,” replied Jane; “but of this I am assured, he died a Protestant in heart.”

“It may be so,” rejoined Feckenham. “He was hypocrite enough to act thus. It is enough for us that he publicly abjured his errors. And before long, others of his house will follow his example.”

“What mean you, sir?” demanded Jane, anxiously. “You do not surely allude to my husband?”

Feckenham made no reply, but with a significant smile departed.

The insinuation was not lost upon Jane. And now she more than ever lamented that she was not near her husband, to strengthen his wavering faith, and confirm his resolution. Well knowing that his character in a great measure resembled his father’s, she feared that the inducement held out by his enemies might be too much for his resistance. Unable to communicate her fears to him, or to offer any of the counsel her heart suggested, she could only relieve her distresses by earnest supplications in his behalf. But even prayer did not on this occasion afford her the consolation it was wont to do. The Duke of Northumberland’s recantation perpetually haunted her; and the thought that her husband might be made a similar example filled her with inexpressible dread.

While suffering from these agonising reflections, she received another visit from Feckenham. The expression of his countenance, which was triumphing and sinister, alarmed her, and she almost felt unwilling, though at the same time anxious, to question him.

After enjoying her suspense for a few minutes, he said, “Daughter, you blamed the Duke of Northumberland for being reconciled to our church. What, if I inform you that Lord Guilford Dudley has been likewise converted?”