Before the sun which was now rising went down, I was in a foul dungeon in Fleet Prison. CHAPTER XXVI FLEET PRISON I was kept in Fleet Prison for wellnigh two years, and during the first year of that time I scarce ever spoke to a fellow-prisoner. Moreover, none of my gaolers ever had speech with me. So silent were they when they brought me my meals that I judged they had been commanded to be silent. It was easy to divine a meaning in this, for if the king had bidden that no man should speak to me he would be obeyed. And I believed that he had done this, else why was I treated differently from all others who were immured within those grim walls? Moreover there was a reason why he should give the command. He did not desire that his marriage with Lucy Walters should be known; he did not wish that the boy James Croft should be spoken of as the future King of England. Of my sufferings during that year I will say but little. It is but little to a man's credit that he should make known his tale of woe, rather should he endeavour to make the best of his lot, and think of what comforts he had. And yet if I would tell my story truly I must e'en remark on the dark days I spent there, for they were dark days. For a time I almost wished that I had no hope that Constance loved me, for it seemed to make my burden harder to bear. But it was only for a time. I could not help being glad because of the lovelight I had seen in her eyes, even though the thought of it brought me pain; For bring me pain it did. How could it be otherwise? I remembered the words of the king, and I knew that he meant what he said. All nights have I lain awake, heedless of the vermin that swarmed the cell, thinking of what had become of her, and how she fared. For not one word did I hear. Whether she was dead or alive I knew not. Whether she had escaped from the king's power, or whether he cruelly persecuted her no one could tell me. And this made my burden hardest to bear. If I knew she was dead I think I could have borne up better, for I should know that she had died thinking of me. Ay, I knew that, for no woman could look at a man as she looked at me without thinking of him always. Even as I lay in the darkness I remembered that look, and rejoiced. My imprisonment I would not have minded one whit, if I knew she was safe. I did not even fear her being a hunted refugee as she was when I had seen her first of all. Nay, it was the thought of what was in the king's mind that drove me wellnigh mad, and many a time while I was in prison had I wished that I had seized his fleshy neck and strangled the life out of him, even although I suffered the tortures of hell as a consequence. But I could do nothing. Day succeeded day, and week succeeded week, and I heard not so much as a breath of a whisper. Besides I could do nothing, for my prison door was safely locked, and not a vestige of chance to hear aught of the outside world came to me.