“I would have taken English prisoners enough in France for his ransom; and failing that, I would have invaded England and brought him out by force.”
That was just her way. If a thing was to be done, it was love first, and hammer and tongs to follow; but no shilly-shallying between. She added with a little sigh:
“If I had had my freedom three years, I would have delivered him.”
“Have you the permission of your Voices to break out of prison whenever you can?”
“I have asked their leave several times, but they have not given it.”
I think it is as I have said, she expected the deliverance of death, and within the prison walls, before the three months should expire.
“Would you escape if you saw the doors open?”
She spoke up frankly and said:
“Yes—for I should see in that the permission of Our Lord. God helps who help themselves, the proverb says. But except I thought I had permission, I would not go.”
Now, then, at this point, something occurred which convinces me, every time I think of it—and it struck me so at the time—that for a moment, at least, her hopes wandered to the King, and put into her mind the same notion about her deliverance which Noel and I had settled upon—a rescue by her old soldiers. I think the idea of the rescue did occur to her, but only as a passing thought, and that it quickly passed away.