It was only one interview with the prisoner for which Agnes dared to hope, and she waited for it until the day before he was to be degraded from his priestly office. Mistress Winter’s momentary sympathy, if it had existed, was over, and she grumbled a good deal when Agnes preferred her request for a few hours’ leave of absence. But she granted the boon at last.
“It will be the last time,” said Agnes quietly.
No more meetings at Paul’s Cross,—no more summer walks to Clerkenwell,—no more readings from the Cathedral lectern! Instead of that, for him the chariot of fire, and then the King’s welcome home, the white robe, and the palm of victory, and the crown of life. And for her,—ah! what? It might be a forty years’ wandering in the Wilderness of Sinai, with the River of Jordan at its close, ere she could come to the shore of the Promised Land. Yet the Promised Land was sure, as was the Promiser.
A strange specimen of human nature was Alexander, the keeper of Newgate prison: a man who could request Bishop Bonner to burn some more heretics because the cells were inconveniently crowded, and then, after a good supper, sit down and play the fiddle. He was extremely fond of music, though it scarcely exercised a soothing influence in his exceedingly savage breast.
Happily for Agnes, this gentleman happened to be in a good temper when she presented herself at his gates. He admitted her into the great hall, and after a short delay took her down to the low damp cell where condemned prisoners were confined. There she found John Laurence.
They were both very calm,—these two, to each of whom in that hour’s last meeting the bitterness of death was passing. Each tried to be brave for the other’s sake; each strengthened the other’s hand in God.
“This is scarce what we looked for, sweet-heart,” said the Black Friar. “We had gathered a fair dish of honey, but our good Master saw it should harm us, and appointed us in the stead thereof a dish of wormwood.
Neither is all the honey gone from us, for it is sweet to suffer for His sake.”
“I am glad thou hast stood firm,” said Agnes quietly.