Part 8 (2/2)
The men perceived that I was in earnest, and therefore did as I requested, and in another minute I was again alone with my two keepers.
”You have behaved honourably, Sir, and perhaps wisely,” observed one of my conductors, as he was about to remount his horse. ”I will not ask you who those people were, although I have no doubt but you recognised them yourself.”
”No,” I replied, ”I did not. I guessed from whence they came, but I did not recognise any one individual.”
I gave this cautious answer, although I had recognised Captain Levee and one of my own officers.
”Well, Captain Elrington, you have proved to us that you may be trusted, and therefore, on your pledging your word that you will not escape, we shall have a great pleasure in removing all unpleasant precautions.”
”I certainly have proved that I would not escape, and will readily give you my a.s.surance that I will not alter my mind.”
”That is sufficient, Sir,” replied the officer; and he then cut away the rope which bound my legs, and also took off the two leading reins attached to the other horses. ”We shall now,” he said, ”proceed not only more pleasantly, but more rapidly.”
My conductors then mounted their horses, and we set off at a good trot, and in an hour arrived at the place where we were to put up for the night. We found supper prepared for us, and good beds. My conductors now left me free of all restraint, and we retired to our beds. The next day we continued our journey in the same manner. My companions were pleasant and gentlemanlike men, and we discoursed freely upon every topic; no one could have imagined that I was a state-prisoner.
We arrived, at London on the fifth day, and I was then delivered over to the keeper of the Tower, according to the instructions that my conductors had received. They bade me farewell, and promised that they would not fail to represent my conduct to the authorities, and gave me hopes of a speedy release. I had the same idea, and took possession of the apartments prepared for me (which were airy and well ventilated) with almost cheerfulness.
On the third day of my arrival a Commission was sent to the Tower to examine me, and I gave the same replies as before. They were very particular in obtaining the descriptions of the persons of those whom I had landed in France, and I answered without disguise. I afterwards found out that I had done a very foolish thing. Had I misrepresented their persons, it would have been supposed that they really were four Catholic priests, but from my exact description they discovered that I had rescued the four traitors (as they termed them) that they were the most anxious to secure and make an example of; and their annoyance at this discovery had so angered them against me that my subsequent conduct could not create any feeling favourable towards me.
Three weeks elapsed, and I was wearied of confinement. My gaoler told me that he feared my case was a bad one; and, after another week had pa.s.sed, he said that I was condemned as aiding and abetting treason. I must say that I little expected this result, and it quite overthrew me.
I asked my gaoler what was his authority. He said that so many people had a.s.sisted and effected the escape of the rebels without one having been convicted of having so done except myself on my own avowal, that they deemed it absolutely necessary that an example should be made to deter others from aiding those who were still secreted in the country; and that in consequence it had been decided by the Privy Council that I should be made an example of. He told me much more which I need not repeat, except that it proved the malignant feeling that was indulged by the powers in authority against those who had a.s.sisted their defeated opponents, and I felt that I had no chance, and prepared my mind to meet my fate.
Alas, my dear Madam, I was but ill prepared to die,--not that I feared death, but I feared what must be my condition after death. I had lived a reckless, lawless life, without fear of G.o.d or man; all the religious feelings which had been instilled into me by my good tutor (you know my family history, and I need say no more) during my youth had been gradually sapped away by the loose companions.h.i.+p which I had held since the time that I quitted my father's house; and when I heard that I was to die my mind was in a state of great disquiet and uncomfortable feeling. I wished to review my life, and examine myself; but I hardly knew where to begin.
All was chaos and confusion. I could remember many bad actions, but few good ones. I felt that I was like a vessel without a rudder, and without a pilot; and after hours and hours of deep thought I would give up the task of examination in stern despair, saying to myself, ”Well, if it must be so, it must.” I felt an inclination to defy that Heaven which I felt would never be opened to me. This was the case for more than a week after I heard of my condemnation, until I began to reflect upon the nature of our creed, and the terms of salvation which were offered; and as I thought over them I felt a dawn of hope, and I requested the gaoler to furnish me with a Bible. I read it day and night, for I expected every morning to be summoned to execution. I felt almost agony at times lest such should be the case; but time pa.s.sed on, and another fortnight elapsed, during which I had profited by my reading, and felt some contrition for my many offences and my life of guilt, and I also felt that I could be saved through the merits of Him who died for the whole world. Day after day my faith became more lively, and my mind more at ease. One morning the gaoler came to me, and said that there was a priest who wished to see me. As I understood he was a Roman, I was about to refuse; but on consideration I thought otherwise, and he was admitted. He was a tall, spare man, with a dark Spanish countenance.
”You are, I believe,” said he, ”Captain Elrington, who effected the escape of some of our poor friends, and who are now condemned for your kind act?”
”I am, Sir,” replied I.
”I am aware,” said he, ”that your profession of faith is not mine, and do not, therefore, come to talk with you on serious points, without you should wish it yourself; my object is, being indebted as we are to you for saving our friends, to offer to be of any use that I can to you, in executing any wishes, or delivering any messages, which you may wish to give, should you suffer for your generous conduct, and you may trust anything to me with safety, that I swear to you;” and he took a crucifix from the folds of his garment, and kissed it, as he said so.
”I thank you for your kind offer, Sir,” replied I, ”but I have nothing to trouble you with. I have long quitted my family, who know not whether I am alive or dead, for reasons that I need not explain. I am under an a.s.sumed name, and it is my intention to suffer under that name, that my family may not be disgraced by my ignominious death, or be aware that I have perished on the scaffold.”
”Perhaps you are right,” replied the priest; ”but let us talk upon another point; have you no friends that could exert themselves in your favour so as to procure your pardon and release?”
”None,” replied I, ”except those who, I am sure, are exerting themselves to the utmost of their power, and to whom no message from me is necessary.”
”Do you know n.o.body at court,” said the priest, ”no person of rank in the government--or I may say opposed to the government--for people now-a-days are not what they seem or pretend to be?”
”I have no knowledge of any t.i.tled person,” replied I; ”when I parted with one of the gentlemen whom I landed at Bordeaux he gave me the name of a lady of quality at Paris, desiring me, if in difficulty, to apply to him through her; but that was if in difficulty in France; of course she could do nothing for me in this country.”
”Have you the name of the lady?”
”Yes,” replied I; ”it is on the first leaf of my pocket-book. Here it is.”
The priest read the name, and then said--
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