"Be constant to his memory, if you can--though I fear 'twill be a hard matter with you to be so," observed Cromwell. "But I have no further time for idle discourse. Since there is no chance of capturing Charles Stuart, I shall not tarry longer here. Take charge of this damsel," he added. "Her friends have left her. But mark me! she must not return to the city. Neither return thither thyself, if thou wouldst live to enjoy thy pension." "Your excellency's injunctions shall be obeyed," replied Dame Gives, trembling. "I thought I was a prisoner," remarked Jane, surprised. "I do not make prisoners of women," replied Cromwell, coldly. With this, he gave the word to Dighton, and immediately rode off in the direction of Perry Wood, followed by his troops. No sooner was he gone, than Jane said to Dame Gives: "Notwithstanding the Lord General's prohibition, I must, and will, return to Worcester. I must relieve my brother's anxiety on my account." "Beseech you do not, dear lady," replied the young widow, earnestly. "Come with me to Droitwich, whither I am going, and I will undertake to provide you a faithful messenger, who shall convey a letter or a token from you to Colonel Lane or Sir Clement Fisher." "You know me then!" cried Jane in astonishment. "There are very few in Worcester who do not know Mistress Jane Lane," replied Dame Gives. "But your sympathies are with the enemy--not with us," cried Jane. The very significant look given her by the young widow satisfied her she was mistaken. "Major Careless would tell you differently," whispered Dame Gives, leaning forward. "My doubts are removed," said Jane. "I will go with you to Droitwich." "You will not find your confidence misplaced," replied Dame Gives. "And it will delight me to be of service to you." They then rode off at a brisk pace, and were soon on the high road to Droitwich. CHAPTER XXIV. WHAT CHARLES BEHELD FROM THE SUMMIT OF THE CATHEDRAL TOWER. Brightly dawned the fatal 3rd of September, 1651, as if the day just breaking were destined to be one of peace and rejoicing rather than of strife and bloodshed. But the gladdening influence of the sunshine that gilded its towers, spires, and pinnacles could not dispel the gloom hanging over the devoted city. Men sprang from their restless couches oppressed with the sense that the dreadful contest in which they must of necessity take part was close at hand. Before night the king's fate would probably be decided. If he fell, the city dedicated to his cause would fall with him.