"Not even the king," she repeated dully; "nay, I know not if the king be merciful; but," she cried, suddenly starting up, "it hath come back to me; there is one near to the king who may be our advocate--Prince Rupert!" Dick stared at her, aghast. "Nay," she said, with a desperate smile, as she read the doubt in his face, "I am not distraught. God forgive me, I could well-nigh wish I were, so I might escape the knowledge of this misery. But, listen to me," she went on, with sudden self-control. "When Prince Rupert surrendered Bristol to the Parliament army, your uncle was among the officers who waited with General Cromwell at the port of the fort for his coming out, and waited on him to Sir Thomas Fairfax. And the prince had much discourse with Major Harrison, for so your uncle was then, and when he bade him farewell he gave him a gallant compliment, saying he never received such satisfaction in such unhappiness, and that if ever it were in his power he would repay it." "But consider, madam, that was long years since. In good truth, 'tis madness to build any hope on such a compliment." "Hope!" she shrieked. "I have no hope--no faith! I have nothing left in my bosom but despair! I am not worthy to be wife to a martyr. When he was with me I could be courageous with his courage, and catch the fashion of his heroic patience. Lacking him I lack all! Why did he not die when he was so sore wounded at Appleby! Cruel woman that I was to nurse him back to life for this!" "But, dearest aunt, you saved him for many years of good service, and many valiant deeds." "Ah, and I would have saved him yet again if he would but have listened to me. Do you mind, Dick," she went on, in a calmer tone, as her memory wandered back to happier days, "do you mind how I foresaw these evil times were at hand, and how I entreated him to flee? Do you mind, last spring, when that letter came from New England from excellent Master Perrient, how I prayed him to hearken to it?" "Ay," answered Richard, humouring her quieter mood, "I mind well how he wrote, not knowing but that Richard Cromwell was yet Lord Protector, and how he said, if my dear uncle found no freedom for his religion in England, that there was a safe refuge in the Rhode Island Plantation, and the Lord's people there could serve him as their conscience did direct." "And do you mind how Mr. Goffe, being then with us, said, 'He is a good man, and gives good counsel, and to my mind it were no hardship even to flee into the woods and dwell among the savage Indians, so we might have liberty to serve the Lord'!" "Ay, and some folk say Mr. Goffe is indeed fled thither."