[173] Margaret Fox and her daughter were sent on under the escort of a Friend, a merchant from Bristol, who, Fox says, "seemed to have met us providentially to assist my wife and her daughter in their journey homewards, when by our imprisonment they were deprived of our company and help." Fox had just received a message that his mother was in her last illness, and it had been his intention to part from his wife in Warwickshire and have a last visit with his aged mother. This privilege never came, for Mary Fox, of Fenny Drayton, died while her son was in Worcester prison. [This imprisonment began December 17th, 1673. The case was brought before the sessions on the 21st of January, 1674. "When we came in," he writes, "they were stricken with paleness in their faces, and it was some time before anything was spoken; insomuch that a butcher in the hall said, 'What, are they afraid? Dare not the justices speak to them?'" There was manifestly no case against them on the _mittimus_, but the judge, at the suggestion of the "priest," took the easy way to catch them. "You, Mr. Fox, are a famous man, and all this may be true which you have said; but, that we may be the better satisfied, will you take the oaths of allegiance and supremacy?" The usual refusal was given, followed with the penalty of _præmunire_. During this long imprisonment he had the promise of a pardon from the king, but he refused to get his liberty by any method which implied that he had done wrong and needed pardon. At the next sessions, in April, he got a temporary liberty, so that he went to London and attended yearly meeting, after which he returned to Worcester for a new trial, which ended in the same old way. Meantime the strong man's constitution was yielding to the incessant strain upon it.] About this time I had a fit of sickness, which brought me very low and weak in my body; and I continued so a pretty while, insomuch that some Friends began to doubt of my recovery. I seemed to myself to be amongst the graves and dead corpses; yet the invisible power did secretly support me, and conveyed refreshing strength into me, even when I was so weak that I was almost speechless. One night, as I was lying awake upon my bed in the glory of the Lord which was over all, it was said unto me that the Lord had a great deal more work for me to do for Him before He took me to Himself. After this [about October 1st, 1674] my wife went to London, and spoke to the King, laying before him my long and unjust imprisonment, with the manner of my being taken, and the justices' proceedings against me, in tendering me the oath as a snare, whereby they had præmunired me; so that I being now his prisoner, it was in his power, and at his pleasure, to release me, which she desired.