It was as if an earthquake had suddenly shaken the building to its foundation; but it was nothing more than a sudden landslip, arising from the springs which let in the banks of the moat, so as to lessen its once formidable barrier into the appearance of a ditch. This was not apparent at this moment, for the waters were so raised by the sudden ingress of the earth, that for a time a flood spread itself over both sides of these banks. It was only when the excess of water had escaped down the stream of the Holy Wells, into the Orwell, that the barrier became less formidable. The Bishop and his niece were not long spectators of that terrible catastrophe. He was apparently excited to consternation, and showed it by his hasty departure, with Alice De Clinton, for Goldwell Hall. Philanthropy moved in the heart of De Freston, who, after confiding his daughter to the care of Latimer, desired him to go at once to the mansion, of his relative and friend, Antony Wingfield, then in treaty with De Freston for the sale of those very premises which afterwards became his property. The young Antony had then consigned his mansion in Brook Street, and his chapel of St. Mary's, to the Lord De Freston. This chapel was called the Lady Grey's chapel; and was the spot in which De Freston requested his daughter, and such as liked to accompany her, to go and return thanks for their deliverance. Meantime, a messenger was sent to Freston Castle, for horses and men, to convey his daughter and her attendants home. Alice De Clinton did not wait even to invite Ellen to accompany her to Goldwell Hall. She would have died before she would have condescended to show any affection towards one whom she considered as a favorer of heretics. Hence her haughty departure with her less haughty uncle, and such retainers as at such a time were not too terrified to attend upon them. De Freston, having disposed of his daughter Ellen, turned his attention to the state of those unhappy domestics of the palace, who were then without house and home; and by his interest with the monks of St. Peter's Priory, and other religious houses, together with his more private interest with numerous rich householders in the borough, he got them all treated in such a way as to suppress their cries of lamentation at the fall of Wyke's Bishop's Palace. Thousands of spectators soon collected round the spot, upon the green hills in the vicinity, to look upon the prostrate ruins. The central pillars alone of that proud building stood erect; and every now and then an alarm was given that they were seen to totter. The expanse of waters did not subside that night, so that the flood had reached to the very foot of the hills, in consequence of the main-buttress of the drawbridge having fallen, and choked up the passage of the stream, where the waters usually escaped to the Orwell.