The guests were fully occupied to a late hour in discussing the plan of attack, the occupation of the town, together with subsequent arrangements; after which, with mutual anticipations of success, the company departed.

Paslew, on retiring to his chamber, though much fatigued, found himself unable to sleep.  The dark chaos of events brooded heavily upon his brain.  Feverish and excited, the dread to-morrow seemed already pressing on the past, mingling its deep and unseen flood with the full tide of existence.  The whirl and eddy, created by the conflict, lashed his thoughts almost to madness.  He grew appalled.  The billows blackened as they rose.  He seemed sinking, overwhelmed in the struggle, and the spirit quivered as they passed.  He arose, darting an anxious glance through the low casement.  The moon was riding on the top of a huge mountain of clouds towards the north-west.  As he gazed they came rapidly athwart the heavens, like the wings of some terrible demon visibly unfolding.  On a sudden the door of his chamber flew open.  He started forward to meet the intruder, but there was no footstep—­no sound save the hurrying gusts that foreran the approaching tempest.  Soon like a mighty deluge it burst on at once in its full vigour, as though it would overwhelm creation once more in immediate ruin.  The roll of the river answered swiftly to the tempest’s voice, now swollen to a huge and foaming torrent, rising rapidly over its level banks, and threatening devastation on every side.  Paslew quaked.  Gloomy forebodings crept upon him.  He beheld in this strange visitation another and a manifest interposition of Heaven, fighting against the cause he had unhappily espoused.  Rest was out of the question, his whole thoughts being occupied in the contrivance of measures for his own immediate safety.

In the morning consternation had seized the whole camp.  They beheld the muddy and turbulent waters before them, again frustrating their hopes, levelling their proud schemes, and fighting visibly and irresistibly against them, in front of their adversaries.  So intimidated were the troops, and so convinced that their cause was now hopeless, that not all the persuasions and threatenings of their leaders, nor the archbishop’s promises of an eternal reward, could prevent the breaking up of this vast multitude, and the hasty dispersion of the rebel host.

Ere morning Paslew was gone.  He liked not the dust from a falling house.  Weary and alone he came back to his dwelling on the tenth day after his departure.

From this time danger and misfortune crowded fast upon that devoted house.  The dark course of events unfolded with frightful rapidity, and Paslew, by many a vain contrivance, sought to avert the king’s displeasure and his own doom.  A relaxation of some measures more than ordinarily severe was attempted; and we find, from existing records, that a pension of ten marks per annum was granted to Thomas Cromwell, the king’s secretary and principal visitor,—­whether in the way of bribe or fee is not certain.