Chapter 28

Ye towers of Julius! London's lasting shame;
With many a foul and midnight murder fed!
_Gray._

Such is the exclamation of Gray. Bandello, long before him, has said
something like it; and the same sentiment must, in some shape or
other, have frequently occurred to those, who, remembering the fate of
other captives in that memorable state-prison, may have had but too
much reason to anticipate their own. The dark and low arch, which
seemed, like the entrance to Dante's Hell, to forbid hope of regress--
the muttered sounds of the warders, and petty formalities observed in
opening and shutting the grated wicket--the cold and constrained
salutation of the Lieutenant of the fortress, who showed his prisoner
that distant and measured respect which authority pays as a tax to
decorum, all struck upon Nigel's heart, impressing on him the cruel
consciousness of captivity.

"I am a prisoner," he said, the words escaping from him almost
unawares; "I am a prisoner, and in the Tower !"

The Lieutenant bowed--"And it is my duty," he said, "to show your
lordship your chamber, where, I am compelled to say, my orders are to
place you under some restraint. I will make it as easy as my duty
permits."

Nigel only bowed in return to this compliment, and followed the
Lieutenant to the ancient buildings on the western side of the parade,
and adjoining to the chapel, used in those days as a state-prison, but
in ours as the mess-room of the officers of the guard upon duty at the
fortress. The double doors were unlocked, the prisoner ascended a few
steps, followed by the Lieutenant, and a warder of the higher class.
They entered a large, but irregular, low-roofed, and dark apartment,
exhibiting a very scanty proportion of furniture. The warder had
orders to light a fire, and attend to Lord Glenvarloch's commands in
all things consistent with his duty; and the Lieutenant, having made
his reverence with the customary compliment, that he trusted his
lordship would not long remain under his guardianship, took his leave.

Nigel would have asked some questions of the warder, who remained to
put the apartment into order, but the man had caught the spirit of his
office. He seemed not to hear some of the prisoner's questions, though
of the most ordinary kind, did not reply to others, and when he did
speak, it was in a short and sullen tone, which, though not positively
disrespectful, was such as at least to encourage no farther
communication.

Nigel left him, therefore, to do his work in silence, and proceeded to
amuse himself with the melancholy task of deciphering the names,
mottoes, verses, and hieroglyphics, with which his predecessors in
captivity