The priest gave his address upon a piece of paper and then came to me.
“Our creeds are not exactly the same, but you will not, my son, refuse my blessing?” said he, putting his hand upon my head.
“Oh, no,” said I, dropping on my knees, “I receive it all in thankfulness.”
“May God bless you, my son,” said he; with emotion—and he then quitted the cell.
What with the previous excitement when my liberation was announced, and the parting with the kind priest, my feelings were so powerful, that, as soon as I was alone, I gave vent to them in a flood of tears. As soon as I was more composed, I rose from the bench, put my necessaries into my valise, and summoned the gaoler, to whom I made a handsome present, thanking him for his kindness during my incarceration. I then shook hands with him, feed the turnkey who had attended upon me, and in a minute more I was clear of the Tower gates. How my heart heaved when I was once more in the open air.
I looked around me, and perceived that many men were busy in erecting a scaffolding. My heart sank as I beheld them, as I felt certain what it was for; but, to verify my opinion, I turned to an old woman who had a sort of stall from which she dispensed mead to the populace, and inquired of her for what the scaffold was being erected.
“It’s for the men who are to be executed to-morrow for aiding the Jacobites to escape,” said she. “Won’t your worship take a glass of mead this morning?”
“I am not thirsty,” I replied, as I walked hastily away with my valise upon my shoulders.
A stranger to this part of London, I hardly knew where to direct my steps; I walked past the square before the Tower, until I came into a street called Catherine Street, where a tavern met my view, and into it I entered immediately,—glad, as it were, to hide myself; for I felt as if all the world looked upon me as a person just discharged from prison. I obtained good entertainment there, and slept there that night. The next morning, the host having provided me two good horses, and a youngster to take them back, I set off for Liverpool, and after five days’ travel without adventure I arrived at the town, and proceeded direct to the house of Mr Trevannion, my owner. I took my valise off the boy’s horse, and having paid him for his attendance I knocked at the door, for it was late in the evening, and dark, when I arrived. The door (for it was at his private house door, which was next to the counting-house door, that I knocked) was opened; and the woman who opened it shrieked, and let drop the candle, exclaiming, “Help, O God—a ghost, a ghost!” for it appeared that the news had arrived at Liverpool from a messenger who had been sent express after I had been condemned, stating that there was no hope, and that I was to suffer on the Monday previous; and this was the Saturday evening on which I had arrived. Mr Trevannion’s clerk, hearing a noise in the passage, came out with another candle, and, seeing me, and the woman lying on the floor in a swoon, stared, staggered to the door of the room where his master was sitting, and the door being ajar he fell back with great force into the room, dropping under the table between Mr Trevannion and Captain Levee, who was sitting with him, smoking, as was very often their wont. This brought out Captain Levee with one of the table-candlesticks, who, upon seeing me, ran to me, and embracing me warmly, cried out, as the clerk made his escape—
“Here is Elrington alive and well, Sir!”