“Not yet, noble lady; the protector has ordered it otherwise; but I beseech you take it not to heart, the separation will be a brief one,” said the lieutenant, bending before the terrified duchess as he spoke. “Nay, sweet lady, do not weep,” he continued, turning to Lady Jane, who had dropped her lute to the floor, and stood directly in the light, with her hands clasped firmly together and her tearful face exposed; “it pains me to witness such sorrow for a cause so groundless. It is but a change of apartments! A short time and you will doubtless receive the Lord Protector’s sanction to cheer the noble duke’s apartments once more; meantime, my orders are imperative! My lord duke, I trust that you will not be displeased with the change. Permit me to lead the way!”
“I will be ready to attend you in a moment,” replied the duke, “but first grant me a moment’s privacy. As my return is uncertain, I would take leave of the duchess and my child without so many witnesses!”
The lieutenant bowed, and withdrawing from the dungeon, closed the door. Then all the strong affections of his nature rushed back upon the wretched duke, for he believed that they were separating him from his family forever. He tried to speak, but could not; a rush of feelings, that had weighed down his heart to apathy before, choked his utterance; a silent embrace and the clinging arms of his wife were forced from his neck; another embrace, a blessing on his child, and before they could cry out or strive to detain him, the door swung to with a sharp crash, the light disappeared, and those suffering and helpless creatures were left alone.
“Mother!” That word arose amid the darkness faint and broken with tears.
“My child, we are alone!” replied a second voice, made strong by the agony of parting.
“No, not alone, mother, God is with us!” And, as she spoke, that noble girl stretched forth her hands and groped the way to her mother in the darkness. As she passed the lute, which still remained on the floor, her garments brushed the strings and a tone of music stole through the room—a pleasant tone—and it seemed that an angel had answered to those trustful words.
The duchess, who had sunk down in agony of heart, began to weep when she heard the sound, and so, in that dark and lonesome prison room, those two helpless beings clung together and comforted each other.
An hour went by, and once more a sound of heavy feet was heard outside their dungeon. The bolts shot back and a flood of light revealed the duchess sitting in the chair left vacant by her husband. Kneeling upon the floor, and half lying in her mother’s lap, was the Lady Jane; her face had been buried in the vestments of her parent, and she had been praying, but, as the door opened, her head was thrown back and a joyful expression filled the soft brown eyes turned eagerly upon the entrance. It was crowded with people, and an exclamation of pleasant surprise burst from the duchess and her daughter when two females entered the dungeon, each with a heavy bundle under her arm. In the foremost Lady Jane recognised her old nurse, and the other had long been chief tyring-woman to the duchess. Never were human beings so welcome, never two beings “so happy without knowing why,” as these old warm-hearted women.
“There,” said the nurse, holding the Lady Jane in her arms, and kissing her fondly between the words; “there, I say, you with the crusty face, roll in the coffer—that will do!” she added, as one of the men brought in a good sized coffer, which the duchess recognised as her own.
“Now,” continued the old woman, still with her arms around her astonished foster-child, “place that mirror on the table; softly, man, softly, you are not wielding your iron bolts now, and that silver frame is easily bruised if you knock the fillagree work about after that fashion!—there, set it down, for a bungler as you are; place the lamp in front; be careful, knave, you are treading on my lady’s lute—pick it up!” The man pushed the lute aside with his foot, and set the lamp down without regard to the old woman’s order.