HOW THE CARDINAL VISITED DERRICK CARVER IN HIS CELL IN THE LOLLARDS’ TOWER. But there was another person besides Osbert Clinton in whom Constance took deep interest, and whose perilous position occasioned her profound anxiety. This was Derrick Carver. True, since her intercourse with Pole, her admiration of the enthusiast had somewhat abated, but she could not forget the benefits he had conferred upon her. All that she could learn respecting Carver was, that he had been removed from the underground dungeon to the prison-chamber in the Lollards’ Tower, which she herself had occupied, and that he was still confined there. She also ascertained, by means of old Dorcas, that he had been several times examined by Bonner, and had been severely handled by them for his contumacy. Fain would she have obtained an interview with him—fain would she have prayed with him and consoled him—but this was not permitted. Pole, who considered the fanatic’s influence over her to be most pernicious, refused her solicitations, and in a manner that did not allow her to renew the request. The Cardinal declared that, finding Carver impracticable, he had surrendered him to the ecclesiastical commissioners, and he was now entirely in their hands. Constance, therefore, had no hope of beholding the enthusiast again in this world. Strange to say, she did not altogether deplore his fate, but in moments of exaltation almost envied him the martyrdom which it appeared certain he would have to endure. Throughout this time of trial, Carver’s resolution had never deserted him—had never even wavered. The prison chamber to which he had been removed was a great improvement upon the dismal dungeon wherein he had been previously immured. In fact, as his movements were not restrained, and he was allowed writing materials, with a Bible and a book of prayer, he was well enough content with his lodging. To the mementoes of the many sufferers for conscience’ sake who had preceded him in this cell, and had carved their names on the stout oak panels lining the walls, he added his own name, with these words: “APPROVED BY STRIPES, IMPRISONMENT, AND DEATH.” His cell was by no means gloomy. Through the narrow grated window looking upon the Thames, and at which Osbert had conversed with Constance, he obtained a glimpse of the river, and of some structures on its opposite banks, while he could hear the dash of oars in the water, and the cheerful voices of the boatmen. But the stern enthusiast bestowed but little thought on the external world. His time was now entirely occupied in preparation for eternity, and in fortifying himself for the fiery ordeal by which his faith was to be approved.