'It should, honourable Sir. But I did not profit by it. I knew and felt
that he was no longer under the dominion of reason--that he was
labouring under some terrible delusion that approached its crisis; but I
did not check him. I yielded passive obedience to his injunction, that I
should depart instantly with an old servant to London; and I agreed to
tarry at a house, which he mentioned, till I heard from him. I had sad
forebodings that I should never hear from him again--or if I _did_, that
the tidings would be worse than none at all; but I obeyed. I could not,
indeed, resist his will. I set forth with my attendant, and my father
parted with us at the door. He placed money in my hand, and bade me
farewell! but in such a tone, and with such a look, that I felt his
senses were gone, and I would have stayed him, but it was then too late.
Breaking from my embrace, he sprang upon his horse, which was ready
saddled, and rode off, taking the direction of Edmonton; while I, with a
heart full of distress and misgiving, pursued my way to London. Ere
midnight, my sad presentiments were verified. A messenger traced me out,
bringing intelligence of the direful event that had happened, and
informing me that my father was a prisoner at Theobalds. As soon as I
could procure means of reaching the palace, I set forth, and arrived
here about an hour ago, when, failing in my efforts to obtain an
interview with my father, who is closely confined, and none suffered to
come near him save with authority from the Secretary of State, I sought
an audience of you, honourable Sir, in the hope that you would grant me
permission to see him.'
