Once more the priest opened his eyes; and, in spite of the badgering, his eyes shone with humour and his mouth broke into smiles, so that a great sob of pity and love broke from Anthony.
“I will pray to God in a language that both He and I well understand.”
“Ask her Grace’s forgiveness, Mr. Campion, and pray for her, if you be her true subject.”
“Wherein have I offended her? In this I am innocent. This is my last speech; in this give me credit—I have and do pray for her.”
“Aha! but which queen?—for Elizabeth?”
“Ay, for Elizabeth, your queen and my queen, unto whom I wish a long quiet reign with all prosperity.”
There was the crack of a whip, the scuffle of a horse’s feet, a rippling movement over the crowd, and a great murmured roar, like the roar of the waves on a pebbly beach, as the horse’s head began to move forward; and the priest’s figure to sway and stagger on the jolting cart. Anthony shut his eyes, and the murmur and cries of the crowd grew louder and louder. Once more the deep sweet voice rang out, loud and penetrating:
“I die a true Catholic....”
Anthony kept his eyes closed, and his head bent, as great sobs began to break up out of his heart....