We will now see what had befallen Constance Tyrrell. When Father Jerome, in obedience to Philip’s injunctions, went over to Southampton to see her, he found her in the Hospital of the Domus Dei, in attendance upon Derrick Carver. So far from attempting to dissuade her from entering a convent, and devoting her life to Heaven, the good priest urged her strongly to carry out her design, but, to his great affliction, he found that a sudden and most unexpected change had come over her. The earnest exhortations addressed to her by the enthusiastic Derrick Carver had already produced a sensible impression, and she seemed more than half disposed to secede from the Church of Rome, and embrace the Reformed Faith. In vain Father Jerome remonstrated with her, and urged her to fly from the mischievous influence to which she was exposed. Failing in his endeavours, he repaired to Master Tyrrell, and informed him of his daughter’s danger; but the old merchant treated the matter with indifference, and the worthy priest departed with a sad heart.
Sorely perplexed how to act for the best, Father Jerome, after much hesitation and delay, caused a communication to be made to the Queen, through her confessor, of the lamentable change that had taken place in Constance’s religious opinions.
Mary manifested great surprise and displeasure at the intelligence, and directed that Constance should be brought to Hampton Court, where her Majesty was then sojourning, in order that she might confer with the unhappy maiden in person, and see how far the mischief had proceeded, and what could be done for its cure.
Constance accordingly was summoned from Southampton, and had several private interviews with the Queen, who soon discovered that Derrick Carver had succeeded in effecting her conversion. By the advice of her Majesty’s confessor, who felt sure he could bring back the stray lamb to the fold, Constance was detained for a time within the palace.
No mention having been made of this proceeding to Philip, it was only by accident that he became aware that Constance was an inmate of the palace. On making the discovery, he went, wholly unattended, to the apartments wherein he had ascertained she was lodged. On entering the ante-chamber, he found old Dorcas, who appeared terrified at the sight of him, and who, without stopping to be questioned, exclaimed that her young mistress was unable to see his Majesty.
“But I must see her,” rejoined Philip, authoritatively. “Go in at once, mistress, and tell her I am here.”
Seeing from the King’s manner that remonstrance would be useless, the old woman complied, and drawing aside a piece of tapestry, entered the inner room. In another moment she returned, and prayed his Majesty to step in.
Passing through the tapestry, Philip entered the room, where he found Constance alone. She was attired in black, and looked pale as death, and was evidently greatly agitated. She made the King a profound reverence, but did not raise her eyes towards him.
“So you have been here for some days, I find,” cried Philip, “and have allowed me to remain in ignorance of your presence, though you know how anxious I have been to behold you again. I began to fear I had lost you for ever, and that you had really carried your threat into execution, and buried your charms in a convent.”
“A great change has come over me, Sire,” rejoined Constance. “I have wholly abandoned that intention.”