She also accounted it an honor to be able to share her father's afflictions. Her principles were of that pure and holy kind, they would not shrink in the hour of trial from filial affection. She regarded the fifth commandment of God, by the grace which she received so to do, and was fully determined to suffer with her father, let the penalty be what it might. Father and daughter were indeed Christians. They knew how to suffer for the truth's sake, as will appear by their conversation on the evening of their arrival and detention at Westminster, by order of Tonstal, Bishop of London. Lodged in a mean apartment, ill-becoming their respectability in the eyes of men, it was for that daughter, by the power of that quiet, commanding interest which her virtuous carriage and external appearance claimed, to secure for her father better treatment than he would otherwise have received. For herself, she would have written nothing to the great man: but when did a daughter's piety fail in behalf of a father, when innocence and a righteous cause demanded her exertion? Where a son might have failed she succeeded, as the sequel will show, to Wolsey's honor and the development of the best feelings of his heart. She insisted upon writing a letter to the Cardinal. 'Tell the keeper of this prison,' she said, 'that I insist upon seeing him.' One of the creatures of Tonstal made his appearance. 'Is your master, the Bishop, to be seen?' 'My lord may be seen at proper hours, but not at this time.' 'Can you convey a letter to the Cardinal?' 'From whom?' 'From me, sir.' 'I cannot have any communication conveyed to the Cardinal from you father without the Bishop's previous knowledge. But for you, lady, as you are not in custody, I can send a messenger.' 'Can you furnish me with pen and paper?' 'They shall be at your command; but will you retire into my private apartments for such a purpose?' 'I thank you for the offer; but I will write here.' 'I fear, if you do, I shall have to send it first to the Bishop of London for his inspection, as it will be issued direct from the prisoner's presence.' 'Then will I accompany you for such a period as may be sufficient for my purpose. I will be soon with you again, dearest father.' 'For what purpose, my daughter,' added De Freston, upon whom years had begun to make their accustomed ravages, 'will you write to the great man? Let me be content without your making any humiliating concessions for me. I am old, and in a common course of nature must soon depart this life. Degrade me not, my daughter, by any compromise of your own dignity, for the ephemeral phantom of this man's dominion. We have had proof enough that he thinks nothing about us, or he would not have forgotten, for so many years, his old friends and companions in Freston Tower. Write to him not, but let all things proceed as if we were strangers to him.'