"
When they halted at the gate of the prison there was another pause,
while the cord that tied his feet was cut, and he was helped from his
horse, as he was stiff and constrained from the long ride under such
circumstances. He heard a roar of interest and abuse, and, perhaps, a
little sympathy, from the part of the crowd that had followed, as the
gate close behind him.
II
As his eyes became better accustomed to the dark, he began to see what
kind of a place it was in which he found himself. It was a square little
room on the ground-floor, with a single, heavily-barred window, against
which the dirt had collected in such quantities as to exclude almost all
light. The floor was beaten earth, damp and uneven; the walls were built
of stones and timber, and were dripping with moisture; there was a table
and a stool in the centre of the room, and a dark heap in the corner. He
examined this presently, and found it to be rotting hay covered with
some kind of rug. The whole place smelled hideously foul.
From far away outside came still the noise of cheering, heard as through
wool, and the sharp reports of the cannon they were still firing. The
Armada seemed very remote from him, here in ward. Its destruction
affected him now hardly at all, except for the worse, since an
anti-Catholic reaction might very well follow.... He set himself, with
scarcely an effort, to contemplate more personal matters.
He was astonished that his purse had not been taken from him.
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