“I will not attempt it if you are exposed to risk,” replied Viviana.
“Heed me not,” returned Ruth. “One of your friends has found out your place of confinement, and has spoken to me about you.”
“What friend?” exclaimed Viviana, starting. “Guy Fawkes?—I mean——" And she hesitated, while her pale cheeks were suffused with blushes.
“He is named Humphrey Chetham,” returned Ruth. “Like myself, he would risk his life to preserve you.”
“Tell him he must not do so,” cried Viviana, eagerly. “He has done enough—too much for me already. I will not expose him to further hazard. Tell him so, and entreat him to abandon the attempt.”
“But I shall not see him, dear lady,” replied Ruth. “Besides, if I read him rightly, he is not likely to be turned aside by any selfish consideration.”
“You are right, he is not,” groaned Viviana. “But this only adds to my affliction. Oh! if you should see him, dear Ruth, try to dissuade him from his purpose.”
“I will obey you, madam,” replied the jailer's daughter. “But I am well assured it will be of no avail.”
After some further conversation, Ruth retired, and Viviana was left alone for the night. Except the slumber procured by soporific potions, she had known no repose since she had been confined within the Tower; and this night she felt more than usually restless. After ineffectually endeavouring to compose herself, she arose, and hastily robing herself—a task she performed with no little difficulty, her fingers being almost useless—continued to pace her narrow chamber.
It has been mentioned that on one side of the cell there was a deep embrasure. It was terminated by a narrow and strongly-grated loophole, looking upon the moat. Pausing before it, Viviana gazed forth. The night was pitchy dark, and not even a solitary star could be discerned; but as she had no light in her chamber, the gloom outside was less profound than that within.