“Oh! he is free,” exclaimed the maiden, joyfully,—“your plans have been defeated?” Nightgall smiled bitterly. “My messenger cannot have failed,” she continued, with a sudden change of countenance. “I am sure Lord Guilford would not abandon his favourite esquire. Tell me, what has happened?” “I am come to claim fulfilment of your pledge,” rejoined the jailer. “Then you have set him free,” cried Cicely. “Where is the token?” “Behold it,” replied Nightgall, raising his hand, on which her lover’s ring sparkled. “Lost!—lost!” shrieked Cicely, falling senseless upon the floor. The jailer gazed at her a moment in silence, but did not attempt to offer any assistance. He then turned upon his heel, and strode out of the room. “Look to your daughter, dame,” he observed, as he passed through the Stone-kitchen. IX.—OF THE MYSTERIOUS MANNER IN WHICH GUNNORA BRAOSE WAS BROUGHT TO THE TOWER. Hurrying along Tower Street, and traversing Eastcheap and Watling Street—then narrow but picturesque thoroughfares—Gilbert,—to whom it is now necessary to return,—did not draw breath till he reached the eastern extremity of St. Paul’s. As he passed this reverend and matchless structure—the destruction of which, was the heaviest loss sustained by the metropolis in the Great Fire—he strained his eyes towards its lofty tower, but the gloom was too profound to enable him to discern anything of it beyond a dark and heavy mass. “Thou art at present benighted, glorious fane!” he cried aloud. “But a bright dawn shall arise for thee, and all thy ancient splendour, with thy ancient faith, be restored. If I could see Mary queen, and hear mass solemnized within thy walls, I could die content.” “And you shall hear it,” said a voice in his ear. “Who speaks?” asked Gilbert, trembling. “Be at St. Paul’s Cross to-morrow at midnight, and you shall know,” replied the voice. “You are a loyal subject of Queen Mary., and a true Catholic, or your words belie you?” “I am both,” answered Gilbert. “Fail not to meet me then,” rejoined the other, “and you shall receive assurance that your wishes shall be fulfilled. There are those at work who will speedily accomplish the object you desire.” “I will aid them heart and hand,” cried Gilbert. “Your name?” demanded the other. “I am called Gilbert Pot,” answered the youth, “and am drawer to Ninion Saunders, at the Baptist’s Head, in Ludgate.” “A vintner’s boy!” exclaimed the other, disdainfully. “Ay, a vintner’s boy,” returned Gilbert. “But, when the usurper, Jane Dudley, was proclaimed at Cheapside this morning, mine was the only voice raised for Queen Mary.” “For which bold deed you were nailed to the pillory,” rejoined the other. “I was,” replied Gilbert; “and was, moreover, carried to the Tower, whence I have just escaped.” “Your courage shall not pass unrequited,” replied the speaker. “Where are you going?” “To my master’s, at the Baptist’s Head, at the corner of Creed Lane—not a bow-shot hence.”