“Farewell, sister; my blessing go with you.”
Hereupon the hostess quitted the vault, and Carver, whose bosom was no longer oppressed, knelt down and resumed his devotions.
Meanwhile, Dame Dunster, quitting the hostel privily, went in search of Osbert and his companions; but she could discover nothing of them, and at last came to the conclusion that they had already flown. She ascertained, however, that in obedience to the sheriff’s orders, all the town gates where shut and guarded.
The hour appointed for the execution was now at hand. The bell of Saint Michael’s Church began to toll solemnly. A great crowd was already collected in front of the Star Inn, but a clear space was kept by the constables around the stake.
The din and confusion in the street, though it reached his ears, did not distract the prisoner from his devotions, and he continued in earnest prayer, until at last the door of his cell was thrown open, and the sheriff, with Captain Brand, Father Josfrid, and two officers provided with halberds, entered the vault. On seeing them, Derrick Carver immediately arose from his knees, and told them in a firm voice, that he was ready.
“I cannot hold out any hope of pardon to you,” said De Warren, “but I would fain hope that you will not die impenitent.”
“I shall die, Sir, as I have lived, in the faith I have professed and defended,” replied Carver.
“Peradventure, you are of opinion that an attempt will be made to liberate you?” observed Brand. “It is well you should be undeceived. The dangerous rebels who have ventured here have fallen into a snare.”
“Are they taken?” cried Carver.
“They soon will be,” replied Brand. “Thou thyself mayst possibly behold their capture. We hold them in our hands. Their retreat is cut off. It will be my business to convey them to the Tower.”