“Nay, I am not to blame, your worship,” rejoined Piers, humbly. “The chirurgeon was sent by Mistress Constance Tyrrell, at her proper charge.” “This is the second ill turn she hath done me,” said Derrick Carver. “But for her, the idolatrous tyrant had not escaped me, and now she preserves me for a lingering death.” “Thou art like the wild beast, who would tear the hand put forth to succour him,” cried the mayor, in disgust. “Will it please your good lordship to question him further?” “Not now,” returned the Earl of Arundel. “Who is this Mistress Constance Tyrrell of whom he has just spoken?” “The daughter of one of our wealthiest merchants,” replied the mayor. “A very pious damsel, and ever engaged in acts of charity.” “Is she a heretic?” demanded the Earl. “Not so, my lord; she is a most zealous Catholic, and it is most like she will enter a nunnery,” replied the mayor. “Accursed be she, then!” cried Derrick Carver. “Had I known this, I would have resisted the chirurgeon.” “Let us hence, my good lord,” cried the mayor. “If he continues these blasphemies, we shall have the walls fall upon us and crush us.” “Before your worship goes, I would fain know whether I may admit Mistress Constance Tyrrell to the prisoner,” said Piers. “She hath asked to see him, but I would not grant the request till I had your worship’s sanction.” “Let her not come near me,” cried Derrick Carver. “Her presence will trouble me.” “For that very reason she shall have admittance to thee,” rejoined the mayor. “She hath helped to cure thy body—may she now help to save thy soul!” “I need not her aid,” rejoined Derrick Carver. “She hath more need of my teaching than I have of hers.” “If I thought thou wouldst taint her with thy heresies, I would keep her from thee,” said the mayor. “But I have no such fear. Admit her when she will, Piers.” And he quitted the cell with the Earl. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Illustration] CHAPTER XI. OF PHILIP’S PUBLIC DISEMBARKATION AT SOUTHAMPTON. Before noon the preparations for the Prince’s reception were complete. All the houses in High-street had been hung with carpets and costly stuffs, and otherwise decorated. From the Water-gate to the porch of Holyrood Church, where high mass was to be performed for the Prince, the street was kept clear by archers and arquebusiers fully equipped, and drawn up on either side, their steel caps and breastplates glittering in the brilliant sunshine. By-and-by a grand cavalcade of richly-apparelled nobles, well mounted, and followed by long trains of esquires and pages wearing their liveries, rode towards the quay. Noticeable amongst these were the Earls of Shrewsbury, Derby, and Sussex, but the personage who attracted most attention was the Duke of Norfolk.