Soon after this, the officer appeared, and at once according Wyat permission to see the earl, preceded him up the long flight of stone steps communicating with the upper part of the keep, and screened by an embattled and turreted structure, constituting a covered way to the Round Tower.
Arrived at the landing, the officer unlocked a door on the left, and ushered his companion into the prisoner's chamber.
Influenced by the circular shape of the structure in which it was situated, and of which it formed a segment, the farther part of this chamber was almost lost to view, and a number of cross-beams and wooden pillars added to its sombre and mysterious appearance. The walls were of enormous thickness, and a narrow loophole, terminating a deep embrasure, afforded but scanty light. Opposite the embrasure sat Surrey, at a small table covered with books and writing materials. A lute lay beside him on the floor, and there were several astrological and alchemical implements within reach.
So immersed was the youthful prisoner in study, that he was not aware, until a slight exclamation was uttered by Wyat, of the entrance of the latter. He then arose, and gave him welcome.
Nothing material passed between them as long as the officer remained in the chamber, but on his departure Surrey observed laughingly to his friend, “And how doth my fair cousin, the Lady Anne Boleyn?”
“She has just ridden forth with the king, to hawk in the park,” replied Wyat moodily. “For myself, l am ordered on a mission to France, but I could not depart without entreating your forgiveness for the jeopardy in which I have placed you. Would I could take your place.”
“Do not heed me,” replied Surrey; “I am well content with what has happened. Virgil and Homer, Dante and Petrarch, are the companions of my confinement; and in good sooth, I am glad to be alone. Amid the distractions of the court I could find little leisure for the muse.”
“Your situation is, in many respects, enviable, Surrey,” replied Wyat. “Disturbed by no jealous doubts and fears, you can beguile the tedious hours in the cultivation of your poetical tastes, or in study. Still, I must needs reproach myself with being the cause of your imprisonment.”
“I repeat, you have done me a service,” rejoined the earl, “I would lay down my life for my fair cousin, Anne Boleyn, and I am glad to be able to prove the sincerity of my regard for you, Wyat. I applaud the king's judgment in sending you to France, and if you will be counselled by me, you will stay there long enough to forget her who now occasions you so much uneasiness.”
“Will the Fair Geraldine be forgotten when the term of your imprisonment shall expire, my lord?” asked Wyat.