Towards the end of July, Isoult and Esther were coming along the riverside by the Tower, when they saw a great crowd shouting and running towards them. Neither John nor Robin being with them, Isoult was rather frightened, and turned aside into the porch of Saint Katherine's for safety. But when they came nearer, she saw that here were the prisoners borne under guard to the Tower. First rode the traitor Earl of Arundel, who had them in his guard; and had he received his deserts, he would have been among them. And after him, riding upon horses, their bridles tied to those of the guards, came the Duke of Northumberland, his sons, the Earl of Warwick, Lord Ambrose, and Lord Henry Dudley; Lord Huntingdon, Lord Hastings, Sir John Gates, and his brother Sir Henry, Sir Andrew Dudley (brother to the Duke), and Dr Sands, Chancellor of Cambridge. But when Isoult saw the face of the last prisoner, she was unspeakably startled. Esther asked if she were ill; "for (said she), you look ever so white and faint!" It was no wonder, when she looked up into the unforgotten face of Sir Thomas Palmer. Thirteen years had passed since she saw him; but Isoult knew him in a moment. All the old Calais memories came flashing back on her like an overwhelming flood, drowning the newer evil he had done, as she saw this man, who had persecuted the saints of God, who had done the Duke of Somerset to death, who had been one of the four destroyers of her beloved master--led to his prison and to his suffering in turn. Sir Thomas looked at Isoult as he passed, seeing her eyes fixed on him; but it was the look of a stranger to a stranger. The storm broke now. Few days passed unmarked by fresh arrests. The phrase "the Queen" had almost insensibly passed from Jane to Mary. But for a little while yet the crisis was political, not religious. When the danger was over, and before Mary reached her metropolis, the scene was shifted, and the first Protestant arrest took place. And so sudden and unexpected was the blow, that it fell upon the Gospellers like a thunderbolt. Thirty hours had barely elapsed since her meeting with Sir Thomas Palmer, when Isoult, coming down into the parlour, heard her husband's voice say sorrowfully--"Ay, this is the beginning of sorrows." "Is there any more news?" cried Isoult, fearfully; for fresh news then meant bad news. "The worst we have had yet," he said; "the Bishop of London is committed to the Tower." "And that all suddenly, with scantly a minute's warning," added Dr Thorpe. "Woe worth the day!" she wailed. "Ay, thou mayest say so," answered he. "God grant this be not the first step of a longer and dreader persecution than we have yet known." On Friday the Duke of Suffolk was brought to the Tower, where his hapless daughter remained a prisoner. But on the Monday following, Suffolk was released.