day
before Sir Philip's departure. There were, we may be sure, many present
whose names live on the pages of the history of the time.

The courtly Earl of Leicester was there, who, with whatever outward show of
satisfaction at his nephew's promotion, was never free from a latent
jealousy which he was careful to hide.

Sir Francis Walsingham was there, the proud grandfather of the tiny babe
which Lady Mary Sidney held so tenderly in her arms, scanning her features
to discover in them a likeness to her father. Sir Henry Sidney was with
her, prematurely old and feeble, trying to shake off the melancholy which
possessed him, and striving to forget his own troubled and ill-requited
service to the Queen, in his pride that his son was placed in a position
where his splendid gifts might have full play.

'The light of his family,' he always fondly called Philip, and he would not
grudge that this light should shed its radiance far beyond his own home and
country.

Was it a strange prescience of coming sorrow that made Sir Henry for the
most part silent, and sigh when the Earl of Leicester tried to rally him,
saying that it was a time of rejoicing, and why should any face wear a look
of sadness.

[Illustration: THE GREAT HALL, PENSHURST CASTLE.]

'We part from our son, good nephew,' Lady Mary said, 'on the morrow, and
partings in old age have a greater significance than in youth. We please
ourselves with future meetings when we are young; when we are old, we
know full well that there is but a short span of life left us, for reunion
with those who are dear to us.'

As the short day closed in, the huge logs in the centre of the hall sent
forth a ruddy glow. The torches set in the iron staples on the walls were
lighted, and flickered on the plentifully-spread board and on the faces of
those gathered there. As the company at the upper end, on the raised dais,
rose to retire to the private apartments of the house, the minstrels in the
gallery struck up a joyful strain, and at the foot of the stairs Sir Philip
paused.

He looked down on the faces of many friends and retainers, faithful in
their allegiance, with a proud, glad smile. Many of them were to follow him
to his new post as Governor. All were ready to do so, and die in the cause
he held sacred, if so it must be.

It was not without intention that Sir Philip waited till the company had
passed him, detaining his young wife by drawing her hand through his arm,
and saying