“Alas! madam,” returned Angela, “when I see you here, I can with difficulty respond to the sentiment.”
“Do not question the purposes of the Unquestionable, Angela,” replied Jane, severely. “I am chastened because I deserve it, and for my own good. The wind is tempered to the shorn lamb, and fortitude is given me to bear my afflictions. Nay, they are not afflictions. I would not exchange my lot—sad as it seems to you—for that of the happiest and the freest within the realm. When the bondage of earth is once broken,—when the flesh has no more power over the spirit—when the gates of heaven are open for admittance—can the world, or worldly joys, possess further charms? No. These prison walls are no restraint to me. My soul soars upwards, and holds communion with God and with his elect, among whom I hope to be numbered. The scaffold will have no terror for me. I shall mount it as the first step towards heaven; and shall hail the stroke of the axe as the signal to my spirit to wing its flight to the throne of everlasting joy.”
“I am rebuked, madam,” returned Angela, with a look of admiration. “Oh! that I might ever hope to obtain such a frame of mind.”
“You may do so, dear Angela,” replied Jane—“but your lot is cast differently from mine. What is required from me is not required from you. Such strong devotional feelings have been implanted in my breast, for a wise purpose, that they usurp the place of all other, and fit me for my high calling. The earnest and hearty believer in the gospel will gladly embrace death, even if accompanied by the severest tortures, at seasons perilous to his church, in the conviction that it will be profitable to it. Such have been the deaths of the martyrs of our religion—such shall be my death.”
“Amen!” exclaimed Angela, fervently.
“Must we part now?” inquired Jane.
“Not unless you desire it,” replied Angela. “I have obtained the queen’s permission to remain with you to the last.”
“I thank her for the boon,” returned Jane. “It will be a great consolation to me to have you near me. Angela, you must not shrink from the last duty of a friend—you must accompany me to the scaffold. I may need you there.”
“I will shrink from nothing you injoin, madam,” replied Angela, shuddering. “But I had rather—far rather—suffer in your stead.”
Jane made no reply, but pressed her hand affectionately.