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Updated: June 19, 2025
"I may be slain of lightning to-morrow, or die of some sudden malady this next month. Can you say surely that there is more peril of burning than of that? If not, come to mine help. I must find the way somehow. Master Ewring, I want to be safe! I want to feel that it will not matter how or when I go, because I know whither it shall be. And I have lost the way.
Is that not enough? If more glory should come to Him by thy dying in this dungeon after fifty years' imprisonment, than by thy burning, which wouldst thou choose? Speak truly." Agnes dropped her face upon her hands for a moment. "You have the right, Master Ewring," said she, when she looked up again. "I fear I was over full of myself.
He found Agnes Bongeor seated in a corner of the window recess, with her Bible on her knee; but it was closed, and she looked very miserable. "Well, my sister, and how is it with you?" "As 'tis like to be, Master Ewring, with her whom the Lord hath cast forth, and reckons unworthy to do Him a service." "Did he so reckon Abraham, then, at the time of the offering up of Isaac?
"Who was he, Hiltoft?" answered Mr Ewring with a smile, as he felt in his purse for the half-crown which was to be the price of his visit to Agnes Bongeor. "Eh, I don't know: I heard Master Doctor say the other day that his dog was as fierce as him." "Art sure he said not `Syracuse'?" "Dare say he might. Syracuse or Siccarus, all's one to me."
Only Margaret Thurston knew who spoke three times that word never to be forgotten, once a terrible rebuke, now and evermore a benediction. So went home the last of the Colchester martyrs. As Mr Ewring turned back, he caught sight of Dorothy Denny, and made his way back to her. "You come to behold, do you, Dorothy?" said he, when they had turned into a quiet side street, safe from hostile ears.
"Nay, that stands to reason if it were so, Master Ewring; but, trust me, I know not what you mean, no more than if you spake Latin." Well, Hiltoft?" "Wastborowe says you may see Mistress Bongeor if you'll give him a royal farthing, but he won't let you for a penny less. He's had words with their Audrey, and he's as savage as Denis of Siccarus."
"But I did not care for that, if they'd have left alone harassing Will. You see, he's younger than me, and he doesn't remember Father as well. If there hadn't been any right and wrong about it, I could not have done what would vex Father." Tim trotted on for a while, and Will was deeply interested in his driving lesson. About a mile from Colchester, Mr Ewring rather suddenly pulled up.
First came William Bongeor and Thomas Benold; then Mrs Silverside and Mrs Ewring; last, Robert Purcas and Elizabeth Foulkes. They were led out of the Head Gate, to "a plot of ground hard by the town wall, on the outward side," beside the Lexden Road. There stood three great wooden stakes, with a chain affixed to each. The clock of Saint Mary-at-Walls struck six as they reached the spot.
Mr Ewring, with set face, trying to force a smile for his wife's encouragement; Mrs Foulkes, gazing with clasped hands and tearful eyes on her daughter; Thomas Holt and all his family; Mr Ashby and all his; Ursula Felstede, looking very unhappy; Dorothy Denny, looking very sad; old Walter Purcas, leaning on his staff, from time to time shaking his white head as if in bitter lamentation; a little behind the others, Mrs Clere and Amy; and in front, busiest of the busy, Sir Thomas Tye and Nicholas Clere.
Mr Ewring had given Dorothy advice how to proceed. "An' it like you, might I see the children? Cicely Johnson and the little ones." "Come within," said the portress, "and I will inquire." This appeared more promising. Dorothy was led to the guest-chamber, and was not kept waiting. Only a few minutes had elapsed when the Prioress herself appeared. "You wish to see the children?" she said.
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