It was the first time he had ever been imprisoned, and as the door locked upon him that terrible feeling crept over him which the first sense of incarceration always brings,—a nameless dread and a frantic desire of escape, of again mixing with fellow-men. But to Inglesant this sad feeling was increased immensely by the circumstances that surrounded him, and the peculiar nature of his position. The very nature of his position debarred him from all hope, cut him off from all help alike from friend and foe. Those who in any other case would be most forward to help him were now his jailers, nay, he was turned by this strange reverse into his own jailer and enemy; debarred from attempting anything to help himself, he must actually employ all his energies in riveting the chains more tightly on his limbs, in preparing the gallows himself. Exposed to the contempt and hatred of all his friends, of those dearer to him than friends, he could make no effort to clear himself, nay, every word he spoke must be nicely calculated to increase their aversion and contempt. He was worn and ill and half-starved, and his brain was full of confusion and strange noises, yet the idea of faltering in his course never so much as presented itself to him. The Jesuit's work was fully done.

The next day the Commissioners for the surrender of the city met, and the day after Sir William Brereton's commissioners made a formal announcement of the news that had been received from Ireland. Lord Glamorgan, they said, had arrived in Dublin from Kilkenny. The 26th of December was fixed for him to appear before the Council, but in the meantime letters were received by several persons in Dublin giving an account of some papers found on the person of the titulary Archbishop of Tuam, who was slain in an encounter at Sligo in October. The papers contained the details of the treaty come to between Lord Glamorgan and the Papists, which details threw the Council into such dismay that they concluded that if such things were once published, and they could be believed to be done by his Majesty's authority, they could have no less fatal an effect than to make all men conclude all the former scandals cast upon His Majesty of the inciting the Irish Rebellion true; that the King was a Papist, and designed to introduce Popery even by ways the most unkingly and perfidious; and consequently, that there would be a general revolt of all good Protestants from him. Now, the Council, considering all this, and also hearing that the affair was already public through Dublin, and beginning to work such dangerous effects that they did not consider themselves safe, they concluded that the only course open to them was to arrest Lord Glamorgan in the Council, which was accordingly done on the 26th of December.

The Commissioners also informed Lord Biron that they were told that there were many Irish in Chester, born of Irish parents, who had formerly served in the rebel armies in Ireland, and that also there was even then in Chester an emissary from Lord Glamorgan. They therefore demanded that these Irish should be exempted from the general terms of surrender, and made over to them as prisoners of war, and that the emissary from Lord Glamorgan should also be given up to them as a traitor, seeing that he was condemned by the royal party as well as by themselves.

To this it was answered by Lord Biron's Commissioners that the Irish—such at least as were born of Irish parents and had served with the rebels—should be delivered as they requested, and that as to Mr. Inglesant, the emissary alluded to, he was already under arrest on the charge of treason, and should remain so until more of this affair could be known, when, if the truth appeared to be as was supposed, he should be given up also.

With this the Parliamentary Commissioners professed themselves satisfied, and the treaty was proceeded with, and on the 3d of February Chester was formally surrendered. On the same day Sir William Brereton informed Lord Biron that the King, in a message to the Parliament, dated from Oxford, January 29th, utterly repudiated all knowledge of the Earl of Glamorgan's proceedings, and denied that he had given him any authority whatever to treat with the Irish Papists. Sir William added, he supposed Lord Biron would no longer have any scruple to surrender the person of Lord Glamorgan's emissary, as by so doing could he alone convince men of the sincerity of his belief in the King's freedom from complicity in his designs. Lord Biron answered that he had nothing to object to in this, and would give Mr. Inglesant up, and indeed it was not in his power to do anything else. On the 3d day of February the Parliamentary forces were marched into the town, and Lord Biron with his lady, and the rest of the noblemen and gentlemen and their ladies, prepared to leave. According to the articles of the treaty, carriages were provided for them and their goods, and a party of horse appointed to convey them to Conway. The ladies and gentlemen were assembled at Sir Francis Gammul's in the lower Bridge Street. The street was blocked with carriages and horses, and carts full of goods; companies of foot were forcing their way through; the overhanging rows and houses were full of people, the Church bells were ringing, the Parliamentary officers passing to and fro. There was a certain amount of relief and gaiety in all hearts; the Royalists were relieved from the hardships of the siege, and were expecting to go to their homes; the Parliamentarians, of course, were jubilant. The principal inhabitants of Chester were the worst off, but even they looked forward to a time of quiet, and to the possibility of at last retrieving their losses and their position in the town. Amid all this confusion and bustle, a sergeant's guard entered the room where Inglesant was confined, and desired him to accompany them to the commander, that the transfer of his person might be arranged. He followed them out of the castle, by St. Mary's Church, and up the short street into the Bridge Street, at the corner of which Sir Francis Gammul's house stood. Forcing his way through the crowd that gaped and pressed upon them, the sergeant conducted Inglesant into the house, and up into one of the principal rooms, where the commanders and the ladies and many others were assembled. A crowd of curious spectators pressed after them to the door as soon as it was known whom the sergeant had brought; a dead silence fell upon the whole company, and the two commanders, who were seated at a table, on which were the articles of surrender, rose and gazed at Inglesant. A confused murmur, the nature of which it would have been difficult to describe, ran through the room, and the ladies pressed together, with mingled timidity and curiosity, to look on. Inglesant was thin and pale, his clothes shabby and uncared for, his hair and moustache undressed, his whole demeanour cowed and dispirited—very different in appearance from the fine gentleman who had played Philaster before the Court. Doubtless, many among the Royalists pitied him; but at present no doubts were felt, or at any rate had time to circulate, of the King's sincerity, and the dislike to the Jesuits, even by the High Church Loyalists, closed their hearts against him. The Lord Biron asked him whether he had anything to say before he was delivered over to Sir William, to which he replied,—

"No."

He made no effort to speak to any one, or to salute Lady Biron or any of his acquaintances, but stood patiently, his eyes fixed on the ground.

Sir William asked whether he adhered to his statement that the commission he had exhibited was a forgery?

At which he looked up steadily, and said,—

"Yes; it was not written by the King."