“If he should so perish, then seek for a martyr’s crown, if you will,” said Carver; “but while he lives, live for him. Something tells me you will yet be united.”
“I dare not hope so,” she rejoined.
“If my last prayers will avail to ensure your happiness, you shall have them,” said Carver. “And now we must part. Once more I exhort you to continue stedfast in the faith. But be not influenced by the desire of vain-glory, which, perchance, may be my own besetting sin. And now receive my blessing!”
And as she bent before him, he spread his arms over her head, and pronounced a solemn benediction.
There was then a deep silence, broken only by Constance’s sobs.
“Weep not, dear daughter,” he said. “Our parting ought to be joyous rather than sad, seeing that my trials are well-nigh over, and I am about to reap my reward. Farewell!” he added, taking her hand, and pressing his lips to it. “Forget not what I have said to you.”
“Fear me not!” she rejoined, sinking upon a bench. “Farewell!”
Carver cast a compassionate look at her, and then striding resolutely towards the door, he called out that he was ready, whereupon Mallet instantly appeared.
Without hazarding another glance at Constance, he then quitted the chamber, and was taken by Mallet to the gate, where he was delivered to the officers sent for him by Bonner.
A barge awaited him, and in this conveyance he was taken to Paul’s Wharf. Thence he was escorted to the consistory at Saint Paul’s, where Bonner was sitting in judgment with the Lord Mayor, the sheriffs, and several members of the council.