“With the tempter, that wished to alienate me from God,” said she—“with the tempter, who at the approach of your footsteps wanted to fool my heart with fear, and persuade me to recant!”
“You are, then, firmly resolved? you do not retract?” asked Gardiner; and a savage joy shone in his pale, hard countenance.
“No, I do not recant!” said she, with a face beaming with smiles.
“Then, in the name of God and of the king, I take you into the torture-chamber!” cried Chancellor Wriothesley, as he advanced and laid his heavy hand on Anne’s shoulder. “You would not hear the voice of love warning you and calling you, so we will now try to arouse you from your madness by the voice of wrath and damnation.” He beckoned to the attendants on the rack, who stood behind him in the open door, and ordered them to seize her and carry her to the torture-chamber.
Anne, smiling, turned them back. “Nay, not so!” said she. “The Saviour went on foot, and bore His cross to the place of execution. I will tread His path. Show me the way, I follow you. But let no one dare touch me. I will show you that not by constraint, but gladly and freely, I tread the path of suffering, which I shall endure for the sake of my God. Rejoice, oh my soul!—sing, my lips! for the bridegroom is near, and the feast is about to begin.”
And in exultant tones Anne Askew began to sing a hymn, that had not died away when she entered the torture-chamber.
CHAPTER XXI. PRINCESS ELIZABETH.
The king sleeps. Let him sleep! He is old and infirm, and God has severely punished the restless tyrant with a vacillating, ever-disquieted, never-satisfied spirit, while He bound his body and made the spirit prisoner of the body; while He made the ambitious king, struggling for the infinite, a slave to his own flesh. How high soever his thoughts soar, still the king remains a clumsy, confined, powerless child of humanity; how much soever his conscience harasses him with disquiet and dread, yet he must be calm and endure it. He cannot run away from his conscience; God has fettered him by the flesh. The king is sleeping! But the queen is not; and Jane Douglas is not; neither is the Princess Elizabeth. She has watched with heart beating high. She is restless, and, pacing her room up and down in strange confusion, waited for the hour that she had appointed for the meeting. Now the hour had arrived. A glowing crimson overspread the face of the young princess; and her hand trembled as she took the light and opened the secret door to the corridor. She stood still for a moment, hesitating; then, ashamed of her irresolution, she crossed the corridor and ascended the small staircase which led to the tower-chamber. With a hasty movement she pushed open the door and entered the small slip that was at the end of her journey, and Thomas Seymour was already there.
As she saw him, an involuntary trepidation came over her, and for the first time she now became conscious of her hazardous step.