Margery raised her tearful eyes to Lord Marnell. "My Lord," she said, "and you, reverend fathers, I have one small thing to ask of you. I pray you deny me not."

"What is it, Madge?" asked Lord Marnell.

"My good Lord," she said, pleadingly, "suffer me to take one last kiss of my child, ere ye take me where I shall see him no more!"

The Abbot seemed disposed to grant Margery's pet.i.tion, though the Archbishop demurred; but Lord Marnell settled the matter by authoritatively commanding that the mother should be permitted to take leave of her child. Arundel, with rather a bad grace, gave way on this secondary point. Margery was then dismissed.

She went up-stairs as if she were walking in a dream, and found Alice hiding behind the door for the amus.e.m.e.nt of little Geoffrey, who was in high glee. Margery stood a moment on the threshold, looking at them, and mournfully thinking that it was the last time she would ever look on that sunny little face, or hear that silvery laugh. As she stood there, Alice caught sight of her mistress, and her share of the mirth ceased instantly.

"My Lady! my Lady! what have you, I pray you tell me? You look as if sentence of death had been pa.s.sed on you!"

Margery pa.s.sed her hand dreamily across her brow.

"Sentence, good Alice, of the evil which is in death!" she said, softly, "and henceforth death must needs be a glad thing. But that is to come yet."

She sat down, and took the child on her knee, and he nestled his little golden head into her bosom. For a few minutes she rocked herself and him to and fro in silence, but at length her voice came, and though it trembled a little, it was almost as quiet and silvery as usual.

"Geoffrey, dost love me?"

"Yes, mother, very much."

"Poor child! how wilt do without me!"

"Go you hence, mother?"

"Yes, my child, I go hence. Geoffrey, wilt mind ever what I now say unto thee? Wilt never, never forget it, but ever keep it fresh and shene, and think thereof whenever thou dost think of me?"

"Yes, mother, I shan't forget."

"Alice, thou wilt help him to remember, good la.s.s, if thou be not taken from him."

"That will I, good my Lady," said Alice, sobbing, and only comprehending that something painful had happened.

"Geoffrey, darling, thou wilt be a good child to thy father?"

"I'll try, mother, but--he frighteth me."

Margery sighed heavily.

"List me now, my heart. Dost remember what I told thee about Jesus Christ?"

Geoffrey answered that he did.

"Right, my heart. And lovest Jesus Christ, who died for thee?"

"Yes, mother, I love Him and you."

The child's innocent answer nearly upset Margery's half-a.s.sumed calmness. She rocked him a minute longer in silence. "Remember, mine own sweet heart, ever that nothing but Jesus can save thee. Thou canst not save thyself. Beg of Him with all thine heart that He will save thee, and love Him all thy life long, even unto _the end_."

She ceased an instant.

"Now, sweet heart, kiss me. Give me a brave kiss, mine own--it is the last. Never shall we kiss again till we kiss in the Happy City!

Fare-thee-well, dearly beloved! G.o.d have thee in His holy keeping! G.o.d teach thee what I cannot--what I by reason of mine ignorance know not, or what thou by reason of thy tender years canst not yet conceive. G.o.d forgive thee thy sins, and help thee in all trouble and woe, and bring thee to that blessed home where I shall see thee again, and where they sin not, nor grieve, neither part any more!"

Margery gently detached herself from the child's embrace, and set him down. She desired Alice to take him away, and then to return and a.s.sist her in matters respecting which she would tell her particulars when she should have removed the child. She stood looking after the boy as Alice led him away, and he turned his head to say, "G.o.d be wi' ye!" [See Note 2].

"Never again! never again!" said Margery to herself in a half-whisper.

"The worst part of death is over! I have nothing left now but Christ."

Note 1. Wycliffe always renders "Bisschopis" the word translated "chief priests" in the authorised version.

Note 2. The farewell phrase which has in modern times been shortened into "good-bye."

CHAPTER EIGHT.

A LODGING ON THE COLD GROUND.

"Christ is at hand to scorn or bless-- Christ suffers in our strife."

Christian Year.

In the evening, as previously ordered, Margery quitted Marnell Place in her litter for her prison in the Tower. The jailer stared at her, as Abbot Bilson, who accompanied her, gave her into his charge, and whisperingly asked the reason for which she was to be incarcerated.

"Heresy, good friend."

"Heresy!" said the jailer, staring more than ever. "What pity for one so marvellous young! Poor lady! it sorroweth me!"

When Margery was at length locked in, she had time to look round her prison. It was a small, square, whitewashed cell, completely unfurnished; all the furniture had to be brought from Marnell Place.

Not much was allowed. A mattress and blanket by way of bed, a stool, and a crucifix, were the only articles permitted. The barred window was very small, and very high up. Here Margery was to remain until September. The days rolled wearily on. Lord Marnell occasionally visited her; but not often, and he was her sole visitor. The jailer, for a jailer, was rather kind to his prisoner, whom he evidently pitied; and one day he told her, as he brought her the prison allowance for supper, that "strange things" were taking place in the political world.

There was a rumour in London that "my Lord of Hereford" had returned to England before his period of banishment was over, and had possessed himself of the person of King Richard at Flint Castle.

"What will he do?" asked Margery. "Soothly I wis not," answered the jailer. "I trow he will make himself king. Any way, I trust it may hap for your Ladyship's good, for it is the wont to release prisoners at the beginning of a new reign."

Shortly after that, Henry of Bolingbroke fulfilled the jailer's prediction, so far as regarded his kingship. He led Richard in triumph through London, with every dishonour and indignity which his own evil nature could devise; then consigned him to Pontefract to die and sat down on his throne. _How_ Richard died, Henry best knew. Thus closed the life and reign of that most ill-treated and loving-hearted man, at the early age of thirty-three. The little Queen, a widow at eleven, was sent back to France--her matchless collection of jewels being retained by Henry. Few men have had more reason to describe themselves as Henry IV does in his will--"I, Henry, _sinful wretch_." [See Note 1.]

The change of monarchs, however, brought no change for Lady Marnell. If anything, it was the worse for her; for Abbot Bilson was a personal friend of the new King, who was far more violently opposed to the Lollards than his predecessor had been.

On the 16th of September, 1400, Lord Marnell was just quitting Margery's cell, when the jailer admitted Abbot Bilson, who courteously greeted Lord Marnell, and replied rather more coldly to the salutation of his prisoner.

"Good morrow, my Lord. Have you induced this wretched girl to see the error of her ways?"

"I a.s.sayed it not," said Lord Marnell, somewhat sulkily. "Farewell, Madge,--I will see thee again ere long."

"Farewell, good my Lord," said Margery, and for the first time in her life she was sorry to see her husband go. The truth was, that Lord Marnell felt so much vexed with his spiritual advisers, that he was seriously afraid, if he remained, of saying something which might cause his own imprisonment. The jailer locked the door after him, and the Abbot and Margery were left together.