He sat with his head bowed upon one of his hands. He seemed tranquil, but plunged in profound melancholy; for God, in the language
of holy Scripture, had not yet descended into Joseph’s prison to console him, nor sent his angel before him to fortify his servant. And yet, had any one been able to compare the speechless rage, the frightful but vain remorse, which corroded the king’s heart, with the deep but silent sorrow that overwhelmed the soul of the just man, such a one would have declared Sir Thomas More to be happy. And still his sufferings were cruelly intense, for he thought of his children; he was in the midst of them, and his heart had never left them.
“They know ere this,” he said to himself, “that I shall not return. Margaret, my dear Margaret, will have told them all!” And he was not there to console them. What would become of them without him, abandoned to the fury of the king, ready, perhaps, to revenge himself even upon them for the obstinacy with which he reproached their father?
Whilst indulging in these harrowing reflections he heard the keys cautiously turned in the triple locks of his prison; and soon a man appeared, all breathless with fear and haste. It was Kingston, the lieutenant of the Tower. He entered, and, gasping for breath, held the door behind him.
“My dear Sir Thomas,” he cried, “blessed be God! you are acquitted, your innocence is proclaimed. The council has been assembled all night, and they have decided that you could not in any manner be implicated in the prosecution. Oh! how glad I am. But the Holy Maid of Kent has been condemned to be hanged at Tyburn. Judge now if this was not a dangerous business! I have never doubted your innocence; but you have some very furious and very powerful enemies.
That Cromwell is a most formidable man. My dear Sir Thomas, how rejoiced I am!”
A gleam of joy lighted the heart of Sir Thomas.
“Can it be?” he cried. “Say it again, Master Kingston. What! I shall see my children again? I shall die in peace among them? No, I cannot believe in so much happiness. But that poor girl—is she really condemned?”
“Yes,” cried Kingston; “but here are you already thinking of this nun. By my faith, I have thought of nobody but you. And the Bishop of Rochester has also been acquitted.”
“He has, then, already been in the Tower?” cried More.