or, who had until then kept his emotion under, turned to More and bade him farewell, the tears running down his cheeks.[140] 'My dear Kingston
,' said the noble prisoner, 'do not weep; we shall meet again in heaven.'—'Yes!' said the lieutenant of the Tower, adding: 'you are consoling me, when I ought to console you.' An immense crowd covered the wharf at which the boat was to land. Among this crowd, so eager for the mournful spectacle, was a young woman, trembling with emotion and silently waiting for the procession: it was Margaret. At length she heard the steps of the approac
hing guards, and saw her father appear. She could not move, her strength failed her; she fell on her knees just where she had stood. Her father, who recognized her at a distance, giving way to the keenest emotions, lifted up his hands and blessed her. This was not enough for Margaret. The blessing had caused a strong emotion in her, and had restored life to her soul. Regardless of her sex, her age, and the surrounding crowd, that feeble woman, to whom at this supreme moment filial piety gave the strength of many men, says a contemporary,[141] flew towards her father, and bursting t
hrough the officers and halberdiers by whom he was surrounded,[142] fell on his neck and embraced him, exclaiming: 'Father, father!' She could say no more; grief st