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my dungeon. But as I was departing, the Grand Inquisidor says suddenly—

"Take heed what you do, for except you confess, the next time you are brought here will be the signal for your death."

But as I have told you, I was prepared for death already, so that this threat did not move me, and I tarried during a long space very calmly and contentedly in my cell. I considered that God was about accustoming my mind to the approach of death, and for this I was extreme thankful. I seemed to myself to look back on all my past life before coming into this place as though it had been another man's, so that I felt that 'twas not I that had started out from Ellswether, sworn to redeem the estates and espouse Dorothy, but another. 'Twas not that I had forgot those at home, but 'twas as though I looked upon them from some great distance, yea, as though I were already dead, and watching 'em from heaven. It did not even trouble me what should come to them when I was dead, for I seemed to myself to have no more to do with the cares and concerns of earth. I would not say that this posture of mind was to be commended or admired, as is that holy uplifting of the spirit whereof we read in the histories of the last hours of martyrs; for indeed I think it was but that dead calmness born of certainty arriving after long suspense, yet neither was it to be despised. Now at last, while in this mood, there breaks in upon me Father Theodorus, that seemed to be as cheerfully disposed as ever.

""Tis my last visit to ye, my lad," says he. "Without ye are willing to satisfy their lordships, that is. And sure I'll put it to ye quite fair, if ye are minded to convert, tell me, and I'll convert ye quicker than any one else, but if ye an't so, I'll not trouble ye. 'Tis the confidence I have in ye makes me assured that ye wouldn't

give the pleasure of converting ye to one of the fat Franciscans in the town there, when poor old Father Theodorus has been visiting ye and watching over your soul for so long."

"Sir," said I, "I will certainly promise you that, should I ever desire to convert, you shall direct the operation." "Ye have satisfied me," says he, "and sure that's why I'm come to ye now, though I told their lordships that ye were obstinately fixed in your wicked heresies, but I'd bring ye to convert if any one could. Have ye considered the matter, my lad? There's only death before ye if ye don't convert before the next audit, for if ye convert after they've sentenced ye, 'tis only strangling instead of burning. Can ye endure it, think ye? Ye are but young

yet."

"Sir," said I, "I seem to myself to have lived a lifetime within these walls, not to speak of the years that passed before I come hither. God has granted me now such contentment with my lot, that I am ready to die if He so wills it."

"Alas!" says Father Theodorus, looking upon me strangely, "I could almost find it in my heart to wish that I might be like ye when my time comes. I have lived much longer than ye have, and sure I'm as fond of this life as ever, though this is a thing no Paulistin ought say. But concerning your friends, my lad? 'Tis sad I am to think of your father's son cut off like this."

"Pray, sir," says I, "tell me how you knew my father. I have never heard that tale from you yet."

Why, 'tis soon told," says he. "After one of those skirmishes in the West Country, wherein the king's forces carried off the victory, I crept out at night on the field, seeking for a comrade that had been left for dead, hoping to be yet in time to administer the last sacraments to him. Having found him, I discovered that 'twas no

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question of the last rites as yet, seeing that he was not in the article of death, but only badly wounded with a sword-cut. I was about doing what I might for him and the other wounded near at hand, when I found myself seized monstrous roughly by several soldiers, that declared I was plundering the dead. Finding an enemy thus employed, as they supposed, they had surely slain me without mercy, but that your father chanced then to come up. And he, after hearing what I had to say, and inquiring concerning the truth of the same from those wounded I had succoured, bade 'em let me go, and so dismissed me with a caution, for the king's forces, being hard put to't to find food for 'emselves, desired no prisoners. And 'tis thus that I owe my life to Sir Harry Carlyon."

"But pray, sir, how were you on the side of the rebels?" asked I. "Sure they was all mighty precise Puritans?"

"And why not I?" asks he. "Do ye think I could not sing psalms through my nose, nor shout The sword of the Lord and of Gideon! with the best of 'em? 'Twas for the Church's sake, my lad. There was many of us did it, some even among the Ironsides 'emselves. We had received our orders, and how should it signifiy to us on whose side we fought?"

I was silent, turning over in my mind this strange matter. For I wondered much how that arch-rebel, Cromwell, should have taken it if any had told him that there was Popish priests (and they Jesuits), in his army, and what should have been the fate of the said priests had they been discovered. Which Father Theodorus seeing, he laughed his jolly laugh

"Ye don't know all the stratagems of Rome yet, Ned, nor ye won't if ye live to be an hundred. Ough! sure I wan't intending to say that, knowing what's before ye as I do. I'll try and see ye once more, my lad, even if

AMIA OL

'tis only on the morning of the Aucto. I can't save ye, ye see that, but I'm prodigious sorry for ye. Ah, Seignior alcaide, how much I shall miss the long disputes I have had with this gentleman for the good of his soul! Sure, I think that ye yourself can't fail to have been edified by all that has been said, though ye couldn't understand a word on't."

I believe that the alcaide must have seen the wink that Father Theodorus (even with his eyes full of tears) directed towards me while he said these words, for he took him out somewhat suddenly, and himself departed after him, reminding me that I was now enjoying the last opportunity of repentance that the clemency of the Lords Inquisidors could furnish me, since they must needs soon make an example of me, for the sake of others. But having heard these words more than once before, I did pay but slight heed to 'em, and so let him go.

Now some few evenings after this, I was brought suddenly from my bed before the Board of the Holy Office, being barely allowed time for to dress myself, and here I was for the last time asked whether I would make a good confession, and submit myself to their lordships' direction, conforming myself to the doctrines of the Church and believing them in my soul, or no. And I answering after my former manner, the Grand Inquisidor, with a mighty solemn air, pronounced upon me the sentence, which ran that as a contumacious and incorrigible heretic I should be taken to the Church of St Francis, and there delivered over to the secular arm, for to be dealt with according to justice.

CHAPTER VII.

OF MY AMAZING AND MIRACULOUS ESCAPE FROM

MOST IMMINENT DEATH.

Now after this last audit, I waited day and night with great expectation for the Aucto de Fie, as the Portugals call that chief holy-day of theirs wherein they set at large. for ever the prisoners of the Inquisition, the words meaning Act of Faith. I slept but little of nights at this time, for there come ringing down the galleries the shrieks of those under the hands of the tormentors, so that I would lie awake and pray for those poor souls to whom God had awarded that further agony he had spared to me. For I knew from much that I had heard and read before coming to this place that 'twas customary to condemn obstinate heretics, before burning them, to undergo many and severe tortures, and this out of pure spite and devilish malice, as one might say, since recantation would now do them no good. From these I was only exempted lest I should die under 'em, and not live to the Aucto.

Thus waiting, and thus disturbed by these mournful sounds, the days seemed to me to pass mighty slowly, and I was fain to occupy myself in casting up my calendar on the wall, though I had lost many days therein during my

1 Generally spelt Auto da Fé.