The king spent an hour in privacy with the bishop; Herbert was afterwards
admitted; and about ten o'clock Colonel Hacker announced that it was time
to proceed to Whitehall. He obeyed, was conducted on foot, between two
detachments of military, across the park, and received permission to repose
himself in his former bedchamber. Dinner had been prepared for him; but he
refused to eat, though afterwards, at the solicitation of the bishop, he
took the half of a manchet and a glass of wine. Here he remained almost
two hours, in constant expectation of the last summons, spending his time
partly in prayer and partly in discourse with Dr. Juxon. There might have
been nothing mysterious in the delay; if there was, it may perhaps be
explained from the following circumstances.

Four days had now elapsed since the arrival of ambassadors from the Hague
to intercede in his favour. It was only on the preceding evening that they
had obtained audiences of the two houses, and hitherto no answer had been
returned. In their company came Seymour, the bearer of two letters from the
prince of Wales, one addressed to the king, the other to the Lord Fairfax.
He had already delivered the letter, and with it a sheet of blank paper
subscribed with the name and sealed with the arms of the prince. It was
the price which he offered to the grandees of the army for the life of his
father. Let them fill it up with the conditions: whatever they might be,
they were already granted; his seal and signature were affixed.[1] It is
not improbable that this offer may have induced the leaders to pause. That
Fairfax laboured to postpone the execution, was always asserted by his
friends; and we have evidence to prove that, though he was at Whitehall, he
knew not, or at least pretend not to know, what was passing.[2]

In the mean while Charles enjoyed the consolation of learning that his
son had not forgotten him in his distress. By the indulgence of Colonel
Tomlinson, Seymour was admitted, delivered the letter, and received the