"No, not of theirs," eagerly interrupted Margaret, drawing a bottle from beneath her cloak, and pouring into a wooden cup, which she took from her pocket, some diluted wine; "but drink this, Stephen: do drink it—it will cool your mouth."
"No, Margaret, I have sworn!" and no persuasion could induce him to alter his purpose.
"Steward," said the Lady Isabella on the following morning, "Holgrave rejects his food—I fear I must release him!"
"Pardon me, lady, it is only a stratagem to get free."
"Do you think so, Calverley?—but the varlet has the obstinate spirit of his mother—and you know I do not desire his death!"
"Holgrave," resumed the steward, with an incredulous smile, "has no intention of shortening his life:" and then he strove, with all his eloquence, to persuade her it was a mere feint.
"However," returned Isabella, "I will send the leech to him."
The leech was sent, and reported that the prisoner was in a state of extreme exhaustion, arising, it would seem, from inanition, as there was no evidence of bodily illness sufficient to have reduced him to so low a state.
Calverley's specious arguments availed no longer, and, muttering curses upon the jailor, whose officiousness had prevented the possibility of that consummation he so devoutly wished, he received the command to set Holgrave at liberty.