"Hush, hush! master Geoffrey," said Lady Katharine, dashing away a tear from her bright eyes, and then relapsing into her merry mood. "Lollards are hard to catch, and harder to keep, and I promise you I will not go forth alone. Since they have made us companions in captivity, we will see if we cannot be the same in freedom. And now I mind me of it, my mother told me a long tale about our being of some kin in a mingled sort of way, but I, giddy girl, paid little heed. So we are in some sort cousins, Geoffrey, and now that I have set you the good example, see that you call me Katharine, or better still, Kate, on peril of my displeasure. But how came you here in this old cell? I did not think that Mother Beatrice would put a companion for me in any place having communication with this garden, her own private one."
The boy began to tell her about the old door he had broken down, and about the parchments; but just then the convent-bell clanged, Lady Katharine sprang to her feet, and saying hurriedly that the abbess would be there in a moment, went off down the walk, while Geoffrey as instantly retreated to his own cell. He found Hubert very anxious to know what was the matter, for he had heard the voices, but, faithful to his trust, he had remained watching the door, as his brother commanded. He was of course very much interested in the history of their fellow-prisoner, and delighted to hear that they had at least one friend, however helpless, in their prison.
CHAPTER XIV.
Remorse and its Effects.
Mother Superior of Our Lady's Convent did not think it best to press an examination on her prisoners, or attempt any active measures for their conversion, until their hot heads had had time to cool in the damps of their dungeon, and their obstinacy had been overcome by hunger and solitude. She then hoped to find them quite willing to obtain their liberty by recantation, and to purchase her favor by the betrayal of their secrets; but she little knew the characters with which she had to deal.
Boys who are thrown wholly on their own resources, and forced to act for themselves, in stirring and dangerous times, soon grow up to manhood in mind, if not in body. Geoffrey had been bred up in habits of self-denial, and inured to every kind of hardship, and was besides possessed of a disposition of that unyielding nature which, when guided by reason and exerted in a right direction, we call firmness, but when uncontrolled and directed to merely trifling things, we denominate obstinacy. His was a spirit which is as much strengthened by persecution as fire by oil; it only roused him to a fiercer action. He could meet defiance by defiance, and taunt with taunt; and Lollardism having been once assumed, there was little danger that it would be ever thrown aside, unless it might be weakened by a long course of prosperity.
Hubert was equally invincible, but his armor was of a different kind. He had neither the power of body or mind which his brother possessed, but in his very weakness lay his greater strength. His delicate health had caused him from his earliest childhood to receive many indulgences which his brother had been taught to scorn, and he had early learned to prefer the chimney-corner and the crabbed letters of an old manuscript, to the pleasures of the chase. Had no new principle been awakened within him, he would, most probably, have become effeminate; but it was not so. The doctrines which he had learned from Lollard preaching, and the fragments he possessed of the Bible, had become a part of his very being, and endued his tender spirit with that supernatural courage which is far more difficult to conquer than mere physical bravery. His mind was so thoroughly imbued with holy thoughts and heavenly aspirations, that earth could offer him few temptations, while heaven seemed to him so near and real, that dangers were but lightly regarded.
Notwithstanding all this, their prison-life began to tell upon them both. They had been so long accustomed to out-door life and abundant exercise, that the damp and confined air of their dungeon soon banished the color from their cheeks, and made them almost loathe their coarse fare. Then Kate's quick wit showed itself to some purpose.
"It is a foul shame," she said, during one of their conversations at the window, as she noticed Hubert pressing his face to the bars as though struggling to get as near as possible to the fresh morning air; "it is a foul shame to keep two such young eaglets chained to a rock. This window is not so small; if it were not for the bars, we might pass through, and you might exercise in the garden at night. Let us see: I venture these irons are none of the strongest; see how the rust has eaten them."
This thought inspired them with renewed vigor, and they began to test each bar by a vigorous blow. One yielded almost instantly, and another, after a few efforts; but the rest were still immovable, in spite of the pushes and pulls from Kate and Geoffrey, one working on each side. At last the latter bethought him of the bolts on the broken door. He soon wrenched them from the decayed wood, and brought them to the window. One they used as a lever, and another, which was a pointed bit of metal, Hubert sharpened, by rubbing on the stones, to pick out the mortar. This furnished occupation and amusement for all three for many days, for there were only certain hours when they could work without fear of interruption, and many and merry were the conversations that took place. The boys described to their young companion Forest Tower and their retreat on the cliffs, and she in her turn told them stories of her home at Estly Court, near London, of her little brother Guy, and her sweet, loving mother. She told how delighted lady Eleanor would be to welcome them, and how tenderly she would nurse Hubert when his head ached so badly. In the account of Charles Bertrand, she appeared very much interested.