Mistaken the two men may have been, yet they had the courage of their convictions and did what seemed to them to be right, and, at least, they were self-sacrificing, laying down their lives and the joy of living with their loved ones at the call of duty to their fellow-countrymen. Queen Mary would kill them for it. What of that? Mankind has often crucified and killed its noblest friends. And, after all, it would only be their bodies that were slain; their souls, the best part of them, stripped of their human dress, would wend their way to the Realms of the Blest, where no grief, pain, nor fighting could ever disturb them again. Nevertheless I fell ill with grief and pain, and was unconscious when they carried me into the house of Sir Thomas Brydges, the lieutenant of the Tower, where Lady Jane had now been removed. CHAPTER XXIV Lady Jane's Death Sentence I wished that I could have died too, as I slowly recovered to find that the very worst results for my dear lady had followed upon Sir Thomas Wyatt's defeat, for within three days of his being brought to the Tower, Queen Mary signed her poor young relative's death warrant. Lady Jane was to be beheaded, as was also her father the Duke of Suffolk. My dear lady broke the sad news to me herself, as soon as I was well enough to hear it. I was sitting on the wide window-seat of her bedroom, propped up with pillows, when she came and stood beside me, saying gently-- 'Margery, you remember when we were at Sion House that I used to read to you out of my Plato, that we were to hold to the road that leads above and justice with prudence always pursue?' 'Yes. Yes. I remember every word,' I said faintly, still being very weak. 'I failed in the latter part,' continued Lady Jane. 'It was at the bidding of others and sorely against my will; nevertheless I was weak and gave way and failed, therefore now,' she paused, looking at me anxiously, as if to see if I were able to bear it, 'now,' she continued very softly, '_I have to pay the penalty_.' I opened my eyes widely, and there must have been a look of horror in them, for she said quickly: 'Do not--do not take it so. I am willing to suffer for my fault meekly, that by so doing I may still "hold to the road that leads above," and you must help me, Margery. I rely upon you to help me,' she continued earnestly, 'for this is a hard step that I have to take, and I am very weak.' Her lips trembled. 'But,' she went on bravely, 'a Greater than Plato has said, "Be thou faithful unto death, and I will give thee a Crown of Life." That is the _best Crown_, Margery, and I, who had no right to an earthly one, would fain win this Heavenly Crown.' 'Yes,' I said. 'Yes. But----' 'Nay, dear one, we will have no buts. It is one of the great laws of life that he who sins must suffer. I have sinned,' she added meekly; 'I, therefore, must bear the suffering.'