“Do not lose time,” cried the old woman, “we may be followed, and retaken.”
Still Jane hesitated. She cast another look towards the doorway, and the idea crossed her, that from that very outlet she should be led to execution. A deadly chill pervaded her frame,-and her feet seemed nailed to the ground. Seeing her irresolution, Cicely threw herself on her knees before her, and implored her to make an effort. Jane advanced a step, and then paused. After remaining a moment in deep abstraction, she turned to Cicely, and said,—.
“Child, I thank you for your zeal, but I feel it is useless. Though I may escape from the Tower, I cannot escape my fate.” Cicely, however, renewed her entreaties, and seconded by Chomondeley she at length prevailed. Pursuing the same course which Gunnora had taken on the night she was brought to the Tower by Simon Renard, they at length arrived at the shed at the further side of the moat.
“You are now safe,” said Gunnora. “Hasten to Sion House, and if my plan does not fail, your husband shall join you there before many hours have passed.”
So saying, she departed. Jane and her attendants crossed Tower Hill, from which she turned to gaze at the scene of her greatness, indistinctly visible in the gloom—and so agonizing were the thoughts occasioned by the sight that she burst into tears. As soon as she had recovered from her paroxysm of grief, they proceeded to the river side, where they fortunately procured a boat, and were rowed towards Sion House.