“My lord, this interruption must not be,” observed the lieutenant. “If you do not retire,” he added, to Cholmondeley, “I shall place you in arrest.”
“Farewell, my dear lord,” cried the weeping esquire—“farewell!”
“Farewell, for ever!”—returned Dudley, as Cholmondeley was forced back by the guard.
The escort then moved forward, and the lieutenant accompanied the prisoner to the gateway of the Middle Tower, where he delivered him to the sheriffs and their officers, who were waiting there for him with a Franciscan friar, and then returned to fulfil his more painful duty. A vast crowd was collected on Tower Hill, and the strongest commiseration was expressed for Dudley, as he was led to the scaffold, on which Mauger had already taken his station.
On quitting the Beauchamp Tower, Feckenham proceeded to Jane’s prison. He found her on her knees, but she immediately arose.
“Is it time?” she asked.
“It is, madam,—to repent,” replied Feckenham, sternly. “A few minutes are all that now remain to you of life—nay, at this moment, perhaps, your husband is called before his Eternal Judge. There is yet time. Do not perish like him in your sins.”
“Heaven have mercy upon him!” cried Jane, falling on her knees.
And notwithstanding the importunities of the confessor, she continued in fervent prayer, till the appearance of Sir Thomas Brydges. She instantly understood why he came, and rising, prepared for departure. Almost blinded by tears, Angela rendered her the last services she required. This done, the lieutenant, who was likewise greatly affected, begged some slight remembrance of her.
“I have nothing to give you but this book of prayers, sir,” she answered—“but you shall have that, when I have done with it, and may it profit you.”