“I am further charged, by the queen’s highness, who desires not to kill the soul as well as the body,” pursued Feckenham, “to entreat you to use the few hours remaining to you in making your peace with heaven.”
“I will strive to do so, sir,1’ replied Jane meekly.
“Do not mistake me, madam,” rejoined Feckenham, earnestly. “Her majesty’s hope is that you will reconcile yourself with the holy Catholic church, by which means you can alone ensure your salvation. For this end, she has desired me to continue near you to the last, and to use my best efforts for your conversion—and by God’s grace I will do so.”
“You may spare yourself the labour, sir,” replied Jane. “You will more easily overturn these solid walls by your arguments than my resolution.”
“At least, suffer me to make the attempt,” replied Feckenham. “That I have hitherto failed in convincing you is true, and I may fail now, but my very zeal must satisfy you that I have your welfare at heart, and am eager to deliver you from the bondage of Satan.”
“I have never doubted your zeal, sir,” returned Jane; “nor—and I say it in all humility,—do I doubt my own power to refute your arguments. But I must decline the contest now, because my time is short, and I would devote every moment to the service of God.”
“That excuse shall not avail you, madam,” rejoined Fecken-ham, significantly. “The queen and the chancellor are as anxious as I am, for your conversion, and nothing shall be left undone to accomplish it.”
“I must submit, then,” replied Jane, with a look of resignation. “But I repeat, you will lose your labour.”
“Time will show,” returned Feckenham.
“I have not yet dared to ask a question which has risen to my lips, but found no utterance,” said Jane, in an altered tone. “Mv husband!—what of him?”