“Oh, if it be in truth so. I care not then for aught else,” murmured Francis.
“Then rest in peace; for of a certainty he hath not been taken, and thou wilt have dire need for all thy fortitude,” and with these mysterious words he hastily quitted the room.
“What meant he?” asked Francis apprehensively. “What could he mean? What could befall me now? Perchance he meant that life would be demanded next. But no; the veriest wretch hath time given for preparation. Then why not I?”
She paced the floor restlessly unable to rid herself of the misgivings that were creeping over her. It was customary for the warder to lock her within one of the small cells that adjoined the larger chamber for greater security at night, but as the usual time passed and he did not come her uneasiness increased.
At last the key grated in the lock, and the door swung open to admit the lieutenant of the Tower and a warder.
“Be not alarmed, master,” said the lieutenant 266 courteously. “We are come to take thee to thy mother.”
“What hath happened? Why come you at night to take me to her?” demanded Francis.
“Be brave, and I will tell thee. Thy mother hath not been well for some time and is failing fast. We fear that she will not live much longer. For that cause, and because it is her desire, are we taking thee to her. Nay; there is no time for lamentation now, boy. Bear thyself like a man.”
For a moment Francis leaned on him heavily almost stunned by the information.
“Courage, lad. Far better death than the slow lingering of years in these grim walls. Many have entered here younger and fairer than she, and endured worse than death in a lifetime imprisonment. Grieve not, but the rather rejoice that she will be freed from sorrow.”