Of the meeting with my dear one, when he came to me out of the Tower, I cannot adequately write--such times are not for strangers' eyes--the relief and joy of it are thrilling my heart even yet, after ten years, as they will no doubt for the whole of my remaining life. From the Tower Sir Hubert came to me in the poor lodgings in Fleet Street, and they were poor no longer; and praise and thanksgiving ascended from them to Almighty God, who had softened Queen Mary's heart and given back my lover from the jaws of death. We only remained in London until after the execution of that brave knight, Sir Thomas Wyatt, whom we were allowed to visit first, though unable to obtain any remission of his sentence. Sir Hubert witnessed his execution, and told me afterwards that nis manner to the last was brave and undaunted, and that, far from incriminating others, in order that he might gain favour for himself, as did some, he, being afraid that Princess Elizabeth might be implicated in his insurrection, proclaimed from the scaffold, before he suffered, that she and the Earl of Courtenay had nothing to do with it. His saying that so publicly, in all probability, saved Princess Elizabeth's life; as Queen Mary, incensed and alarmed for her own safety and the safety of her monarchy, was already planning her sister's doom. Sir William and Lady Caroline Wood, meanwhile, succeeded in escaping to Holland, the former having been too much mixed up with Wyatt's insurrection to hope for safety in a land reeking with the blood of those who had taken part in it. Hubert took me home to my father's house near Brighthelmstone, where I received a cordial welcome from him and Hal and Jack, and all the servants, amongst whom I found poor Betsy, who, being excluded from the Tower whilst I was with Lady Jane, and, being left without means, had trudged all the way to my father's house on foot, to beseech him to begin another insurrection by calling upon all Sussex to take up arms, and come to fetch me out of the Tower before I was burned alive and beheaded. 'Betsy has led me such a life with her tongue,' said my father, 'that I have threatened to turn her out of the house many and many a time, but she would not go,' and he laughed, drew me to him, and kissed me. 'I was very anxious about you, Margaret,' he said more gravely, 'and made many inquiries as to your welfare, but I could not deprive poor Lady Jane of your help and the solace of your presence at such a time.' 'Nor did I wish to leave her,' I rejoined. 'Indeed, I could not have done so.'