Neither of them had been before in the upper part of the Lollards’ Tower, and, as they entered the prison-chamber, they looked around it with melancholy interest. The oak panels, dark almost as ebony, the black boarded roof, the black boarded floor, the small grated windows, the ponderous iron rings fastened in the walls, the prisoner seated on a stool at a table of similar material and similar hue to the panels, all constituted a picture that powerfully impressed them. Derrick Carver was engaged in reading the Bible, and so profoundly engrossed, that he did not raise his eyes on their entrance. The Cardinal signed to Mallet, by whom they were attended, not to disturb him. The rugged features and gaunt frame of the fanatic had undergone little change, but his beard was grizzled, and his locks had become snow white. The Cardinal and Priuli contemplated him for some time with profound interest, and in perfect silence, but at last an observation made by the latter, though uttered in a low tone, reached the ears of the prisoner, and caused him to look up. When he perceived who were in his cell, he tried to rise, but was compelled by pain and weakness to relinquish the attempt. “The man is really too feeble to stand,” remarked Mallet. “Shall I bring your Eminence a chair?” Pole declined the offer, saying he could stand well enough. “Leave the room, and remain without till you are summoned,” he added to Mallet, who immediately obeyed the injunction, closing the door after him as he went out. “You are weak and ill, my poor friend,” said Pole, in a sympathetic tone. “Wine and nourishing food shall be sent to recruit your strength.” “I do not need them,” replied Carver. “Herein I find new life and vigour,” he added, pointing to the Bible. “For three days and three nights, while fastened to yon wall, was I deprived of this consolation, and I account it the worst part of my suffering. I lack nothing now.” “I am sorry you have been treated with so much severity,” observed the Cardinal. “I do not complain,” replied Carver. “I may not have been lawfully punished with the scourge, or lawfully fastened to yon iron rings, but there is little law or justice in England now, since we are under Spanish rule.” “You are mistaken, friend,” replied Pole. “The statutes against heresy and schism, which were in force when this prison-chamber was built by Archbishop Chicheley, in the time of Henry IV., more than a hundred years ago, have been revived, and though your punishment has been severe, it has not been contrary to law.” “I have said I do not complain,” rejoined Carver. “We have provoked Divine displeasure, and must endure our merited chastisement till the wrath of Heaven be appeased. Were I called upon to suffer all the persecutions endured by holy Paul, I would cheerfully bear them for the sake of the Gospel.” “I admire your resolution, friend,” said Pole; “but I beseech you to consider well whether you may not be in error.”