“Then you do not desire to confer with me further?” said Pole. “You have nothing to ask of me?”
“There is one favour I would solicit,” said Carver. “Before I am taken hence I would fain have a last interview with Constance Tyrrell.”
“I cannot grant it,” replied Pole. “I hope to accomplish her conversion, and your influence might counteract my efforts.”
“But she continues stedfast in her faith?—Tell me that?” cried Carver, anxiously.
“I cannot answer the question,” returned Pole; “would not, if I could.”
“She does!—I am sure she does!” exclaimed the enthusiast. “She is my spiritual daughter. Her conversion was my work, and I glory in it. Having opened her eyes to the light, she will not relapse into darkness—never. No; I have no misgivings about Constance.”
“Be not too confident,” rejoined Pole. “My hope is to bring her back to the fold from which she has strayed. You have preferred a request to me which I am compelled to refuse, but I will grant you a favour which you have not solicited. I desire to benefit you as far as I can, and will lighten the irksomeness of your confinement. In a few days you will have recovered your strength, and will be able to go forth. Pledge me your word to return early in the evening, and you shall be allowed liberty during the daytime.”
“What is this I hear?” cried Carver, astounded. “Is it possible that your Eminence will allow me to go where I list during the daytime?”
“You shall go forth wholly unattended on your promise to return,” rejoined the Cardinal.
“I never looked for such indulgence as this,” said Carver, much affected. “When I have heard the voices of the boatmen on the river, and other gladsome sounds, I have longed to join my fellow-men, but I have checked the feeling, knowing it could not be gratified. But now your Eminence offers me this great boon—a boon I should not have dared to ask—and with no conditions annexed to it.”