," I replied. "I would thankfully render you the aid which it was
denied me to offer them."
"I will trust you," she said. "You will not deceive a dying woman."
As she spoke, she hastily took a parchment from her bosom, and handed it
to me.
"There! conceal it," she said, "ere it is perceived by others. It
contains the certificate of my marriage to my husband, now in foreign
lands, and the title-deed of an estate which should be my child's. I
have but one--a young girl. I know not to a certainty where she is; for
when I was seized I urged her to fly and to put herself under the
protection of some Protestant family, who, for the love of the faith,
would support her till the return of her father from abroad. I dared
not trust this paper into the hands of my cruel jailers; but I feel sure
I may confide it to you, and that you will, to the best of your power,
do as I desire."
I promised the lady that I would faithfully obey her wishes; and so
interested did I feel in her fate, that I offered to continue by her
side to the last.
"No, no! you will be watched, perchance, if you do, and bring the same
doom I suffer on your own head."
Still I entreated her to allow me to remain; but she insisted upon my
quitting her, not only for my own sake, but lest I might run the risk of
losing the important document she had given me.
While I was thus speaking to her as we moved slowly on through the
crowded streets, another person came up, whom I at once recognised as
the friar I had met on the previous day. He took no notice of me,
however, but at once addressed himself to the lady. At first, with
somewhat of a look of scorn, she desired him to depart; but after he had
whispered a few words in her ear her manner changed, and as they walked
along he continued addressing her. I guessed the purport of his
conversation. Her countenance even brightened as he spoke. Now and
then the priests with the other prisoners cast suspicious glances
towards him; but he continued to walk on, speaking so low that no one
else but the unhappy lady could hear him; and thus the band of prisoners
arrived at Smithfield. Here they were saluted by the ribald shouts of
the populace, who seemed to delight in hurling all sorts of abusive
epithets on their heads. A'Dale wanted to remain, but I kept to my
purpose. My chief interest was with the unhappy lady. I rejoiced,
however, to see that her countenance was calm and unmoved; indeed, a
sere
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