"What was their object," she said, "in taking me away I have no precise means of knowing; but I am sore I saw that dreadful man's face for a moment; and having once vowed revenge against me, I am certain that he will not fail to seek it whenever the opportunity occurs. I believed he was dead, till within the last week; for I had not seen him before for several years. But I do not think I can deceive myself now, and though the hair and beard are black instead of grey, the features are the same. But I will not dwell upon that, dear lady; the King cheated himself, as I have told you. He thought I had been carried away by order of your friends, because you could not place confidence in me; and to-day he sent for me, to ask if I would return to attend upon you while you are a prisoner in the Tower. I took care not to seem too ready, saying that I did not like imprisonment, nor the Tower for a residence; but that if it were his majesty's wish, I was ready to obey him implicitly. Thereupon he praised my submission, and assured me that I should have as much liberty as possible while here. He knew not how gladly my heart beat to have permission to come. If he had, I think he would have forbidden it."
"And can you really find joy, Ida?" asked the lady, "in sharing a prison with me?--Who can tell, my poor girl, how long it may last? Who can tell that I may not here end my days?"
"Oh, Heaven forbid," cried Ida Mara; "we will soften these stones first with our tears."
"Alas!" replied Arabella, "I fear that we shall not ever be able to soften the heart of the King by any tears that we may shed. But at all events, your being with me will be an alleviation of my sorrow."
"Perhaps you may be able to escape, lady," rejoined Ida Mara.
"No, Ida, no;" answered Arabella; "I will not try. The net is around me, and it is of no use to flap my wings. On the contrary, I will make a voluntary promise not to escape, if they will give me the full range of my cage; and then, like many another poor bird, I will sit and sing my life away between the bars. I only grieve to think that, for my sake, you should be doomed to the same hard fate."
Ida Mara kissed the lady's hand, and gazed in her face, with a look of deep sadness; but she only replied, "You forget, madam, that imprisonment to me is not what it is to you. I have nothing in the world without to sigh for. Oh, that they would but keep me and let you go!"
Arabella answered her by tears.
[CHAPTER XLII.]
Never did human being, in a world of woe, strive with more patient perseverance for contentment with his lot than did poor Arabella Seymour. She called to her aid all the resources of a humble and a faithful spirit. She trusted in God, she resigned herself to his will, she tried to bear the chastening hand with cheerfulness; but it was in vain she did so. Hours, days, weeks passed,--the heavy hours, days, weeks of imprisonment, without one hope coming to lighten the burden or assuage the pangs.