But when I had wearied the royal ear with entreaties, the sharp reply was--'Doth he make submission?
Will he confess his offence ?' And as I could only affirm, that as he was guilty of no crime, so he could confess none, the King returned me the petition, coldly observing--'The dignity of our Court of Star-Chamber must be maintained before all things.

He hath been guilty of contempt towards it, and must purge him of the offence.' 'But the man will die, Sire,' I urged, 'if he be not removed from the Fleet.
His prison-lodging is near a foul ditch, and he is sick with fever.
Neither can he have such aid of medicine or of nursing as his case demands.' 'The greater reason he should relieve himself by speedy acknowledgment of the justice of his sentence,' said the King.

'The matter rests not with us, but with himself.' 'But he is a gentleman, Sire,' I persisted, 'to whom truth is dearer than life, and who would rather languish in misery for thrice the term he is likely to last, than forfeit his own self-esteem by admitting falsehood and injustice.' 'Then let him perish in his pride and obstinacy,' cried the King impatiently.
And thereupon he dismissed me." "O Sir!" exclaimed Jocelyn, rising and throwing, his arms round the Puritan's neck; "you, then, were the friend who tended my poor father in his last moments.

Heaven bless you for it!" "Yes, Jocelyn, it was I who heard your father's latest sigh," the Puritan replied, returning his embrace, "and your own name was breathed with it.

His thoughts were of his son far away--too young to share his distresses, or to comprehend them." "Alas! alas!" cried Jocelyn mournfully.
"Lament not for your father, Jocelyn," said the Puritan, solemnly; "he is reaping the reward of his earthly troubles in heaven! Be comforted, I say.