ually passing across the Fountain
Court. Gaily attired courtiers, in doublets of satin and mantles of
velvet, were lounging in the balconies of the presence-chamber, staring
at Jocelyn and his companions for, want of better occupation. Other
young nobles, accompanied by richly-habited dames--some of them the
highest-born and loveliest in the land--were promenading to and fro upon
the garden terrace on the right, chattering and laughing loudly. There
was plenty of life and movement everywhere. Even in the Lord
Chamberlain's walk, which, as we have said, was contrived in the upper
part of the structure, and formed a sort of external gallery, three
persons might be discerned; and to save the reader any speculation, we
will tell him that these persons were the Duke of Lennox (Lord
Chamberlain), the Conde de Gondomar (the Spanish lieger-ambassador), and
the Lord Roos. In front of the great gates were stationed four warders
with the royal badge woven in gold on the front and back of their
crimson doublets, with roses in their velvet hats, roses in their
buskins, and halberts over their shoulders. Just within the gates stood
a gigantic porter, a full head and shoulders taller than the burly
warders themselves. From the summit of the lofty central tower of the
palace floated the royal banner, discernible by all the country round.

On the other side of the tree against which Jocelyn was leaning, and
looking down the long avenue, rather than towards the palace, stood Dick
Taverner, who however bestowed little attention upon his master, being
fully occupied by a more attractive object close at hand. Dickon, it
appeared, had succeeded in inducing Gillian Greenford to accompany him
in the expedition to Theobalds, and as the fair damsel could not of
course go alone, she had cajoled her good-natured old grandsire into
conveying her thither; and she was now seated behind him upon a pillion
placed on the back of a strong, rough-coated, horse. Dick was in
raptures at his success. The ride from Tottenham had been delightful.
They had tarried for a short time to drink a cup of ale at the Bell at
Edmonton, where Dick meant to have breakfasted, though chance had so
agreeably prevented him, and where the liquor was highly approved by the
old farmer, who became thenceforth exceedingly chatty, and talked of
nothing else but good Queen Bess and her frequent visits to Theobalds in
the old Lord Burleigh's time, during the rest of the journey. Littl