[CHAPTER XXXVI.]
One wing of the old palace in the Tower, which has long since been swept away, was, at this time, when the King's general residence was at Whitehall, given up to those prisoners of state, who were not committed to that close custody which debarred them from a general communication with their fellow men. This was the habitation of William Seymour about a week after the period when the Lady Arabella was conveyed from Lambeth to Highgate. He had, in the first instance, been placed in the Beauchamp tower, but had been removed to make way for Sir Thomas Overbury; and he now had larger apartments and better accommodation than before, as well as the range of the whole extent of the Tower itself, though the liberty of passing the gates, which he had at one time enjoyed, was denied him.
From time to time he received the visits of various friends; and Markham was with him every day, bearing him tidings or short notes from his beloved wife, though their correspondence could not be so full as during the period of her confinement at the house of Sir Thomas Parry.
The intervals of solitude to which he was subjected during various parts of the day, were passed in writing, reading, and meditating schemes of escape; and often, in deep reflection, he paced the old halls and corridors of the palace, pausing from time to time, as the sunshine penetrated through the tall windows, and fell upon mementos of men and ages gone--to read the homily it afforded, of the transitory nature of all human things.
He was one day standing thus employed, gazing at a spot on the wall where some hand had carved the name of Edward Plantagenet, and wondering to which of all the many distinguished persons who had borne that appellation, the inscription referred, when a gentleman, whom he well knew, named Sir Robert Killigrew, approached with the sauntering and meditative step of a prisoner, and gave him the good morning.
"I was coming to seek you, sir," said Killigrew, "to pay you my respects as your fellow captive, which I have been since last night."
"May I ask on what cause, Sir Robert?" demanded Seymour.
"You would be long in divining," answered the Knight.
"That I may well be," replied Seymour; "for as things now go on in England, there is not an act in all the wide range of those which man can perform, that may not, by the elastic stretching of the law, the cunning of the bad, and the indifference of all the rest, be construed into some crime worthy of imprisonment."
"It is but too true," replied Killigrew. "My crime was but speaking a few words with poor Sir Thomas Overbury, who called to me when I passed his window, as I was returning from a visit to my poor friend Raleigh. For this mighty misdemeanour I was committed from the council-table, and here I am, your servant at command,[[8]] so far as services may be rendered within the walls of the Tower."