One day, shortly after this event, the jailer made his appearance at an unwonted hour, and throwing himself at her feet, informed her that after a severe struggle with himself, he was determined to liberate her; and that he would not only throw open her prison-door that night, but would find means to set her free from the Tower. When he concluded, Jane, who had listened to his proposal with extreme surprise, at once, though with the utmost thankfulness, declined it. “You would break your trust, and I mine,” she observed, “were I to accept your offer. But it would be useless. Whither should I fly, what should I do were I at large? No, friend, I cannot for a moment indulge the thought. If that door should be opened to me, I would proceed to the queen’s presence, and beseech her highness to bring me to speedy trial. That is all the favour I deserve, or desire.”
“Well, madam,” replied the jailer, in accents of deep disappointment, “since I may not have my wish and set you free, I will at once resign my post.”
“Nay, do not so, I beseech you, good friend,” returned Jane “that were to do me an unkindness, which I am sure you would willingly avoid, by exposing me to the harsh treatment of some one less friendly-disposed towards me than yourself, from whom I have always experienced compassion and attention.”
“Foul befall me if I did not show you such, sweet lady!” cried the jailer.
“Your nature is kindly, sir,” pursued Jane; “and as I must needs continue a captive, so I pray you show your regard by continuing my jailer. It gladdens me to think I have a friend so near.”
“As you will, madam,” rejoined the man, sorrowfully. “Yet I beseech you, pause ere you reject my offer. An opportunity of escape now presents itself, which may never occur again. If you will consent to fly, I will attend you, and act as your faithful follower.”
“Think me not insensible to your devotion, good friend, if I once more decline it,” returned Jane, in a tone that showed that her resolution was taken. “I cannot fly, I have ties that bind me more securely than those strong walls and grated windows. Were the queen to give me the range of the fortress—nay, of the city without it, I should consider myself equally her captive. No, worthy friend, we must remain as we are.”
Seeing remonstrance was in vain, the man, ashamed of the emotion he could neither control nor conceal, silently withdrew. The subject was never renewed, and though he acted with every consideration towards his illustrious captive, he did not relax in any of his duties.
Full three months having elapsed since Jane’s confinement commenced, on the first of November her jailer informed her that her trial would take place in Guildhall on the day but one following. To his inquiry whether she desired to make any preparations, she answered in the negative.
“The offence I have committed,” she said, “is known to all. I shall not seek to palliate it. Justice will take its course. Will my husband be tried with me?”
“Undoubtedly, madam,” replied the jailer.
“May I be permitted to confer with him beforehand?” she asked.
“I grieve to say, madam, that the queen’s orders are to the contrary,” returned the jailer. “You will not meet him till you are placed at the bar before your judges.”
“Since it may not be, I must resign myself contentedly to her majesty’s decrees. Leave me, sir. Thoughts press upon me so painfully, that I would fain be alone.”
“The queen’s confessor is without, madam. He bade me say he would speak with you.”
“He uses strange ceremony, methinks,” replied Jane. “He would formerly enter my prison without saying, By your leave: but since he allows me a choice in the matter, I shall not hesitate to decline his visit. If I may not confer with my husband, there is none other whom I desire to see.”
“But he is the bearer of a message from her majesty,” urged the jailer.
“If he is resolved to see me, I cannot prevent it,” replied Jane.”But if I have the power to hinder his coming, he shall not do so.”