"'Tis more than a trifle cold here, Master Pennington," said I. "Some straw for one's feet, and a wrap for one's body, would be welcome."
"I will take my lord's pleasure on the matter," replied the secretary, who, to do him justice, had little of the Jack-in-office in his manners.
"Pray remind him, Master Pennington, that I have saved him a hundred pounds, which deserves acknowledgment."
I thought I saw a faint smile on the man's face as he answered--
"You take things easily for a prisoner charged with the murder of the heir to an earldom."
"Charged with nothing as yet, and well prepared to clear myself from any such accusation, when I am brought into court of law."
"The President of the Council has large discretion and plenary powers; nay, has in a sense the royal prerogative," rejoined the secretary.
"Give you my word, I never heard that the King had prerogative to hang a man without trial."
Master Pennington made me no answer to this, but withdrew, barring and locking the door on the outside.
I know not how it was that I rose to a jesting temper, now that the worst had come to me. Perhaps that was the reason, or it may be my pleasure in saving Bess from further torment raised me to a jocund spirit, or the look I saw on the old earl's face, when he heard Boswell's confession, put heart into me, but truly I was in better cheer than I had been for many a day. I knew well enough the scope of the earl's authority, and how he might override the law in his black vengeance, but I was nowise daunted. I could have sung a ballad, if my lips had not trembled with the cold.
About noon, Master Pennington entered my dungeon, accompanied by two serving-men, who brought food and wine, and a truss of straw and blankets.
"You owe your provision to the former steward," answered the secretary. "He still has authority, though past service, and charged me to say that his rheumatic joints forbid his coming to you, but whatever a bedridden old man can do shall be done on your behalf."
"The kind old man! I pray you give him thanks for me. I owe Master Wintringham gratitude for many a favour in bygone days."
Three times a day, good food was brought to my dungeon by a serving-man, but the half-friendly secretary did not come again for days, and the servitors could not, or would not, tell me news of any kind. My condition, so far as bodily comfort went, would have been tolerable, but for lack of warmth. I paced the floor, slapped my shoulders, held boxing bouts with an invisible adversary, jumped till I had no breath left, all to get me some heat into my body, able to think of nothing but that I was like to die of cold. Of nights I wrapped the coverlets tightly round me, and burrowed in the straw, but could not sleep for shivering. After a while, the rigorous weather abated somewhat, or I became hardened to it, though it was November. But I was now to suffer no less by thinking. My gamesome temper had soon left me, and I have no words for a description of the heaviness which followed.