lery of Oxford House--"Lord, save me, for my grandmother's
sake!" He felt as if he dared not ask it for his own.

All these thoughts followed each other in so short a time that Lady
Oxford was conscious of little more than a momentary hesitation, before
Aubrey said--

"I suppose I can, Madam."

He had made up his mind to speak the plain, full truth. Even that
slight touch of the hem of Christ's garment had given him strength.

"Then do so. Have you visited this man?"

"I have, Madam."

"How many times?"

"Several times, Madam. I could not say with certainty how many."

"How long knew you this Thomas Winter?"

"Almost as long as I have dwelt in your Ladyship's house--not fully that
time."

"Who made you acquaint with him?"

"Mr Percy."

"What, the arch-traitor?" Percy was then supposed to be what Catesby
really was--the head and front of the offending.

"He, Madam. I will not deceive your Ladyship."

"And pray who made you acquaint with him?" demanded the Countess,
grimly. In her heart, as she looked into the eyes honestly raised to
hers, she was saying, "The lad is innocent of all ill meaning--a foolish
daw that these kites have plucked:" but she showed no sign of the
relenting she really felt.

"Madam, that was Mr Thomas Rookwood."

"He that dwells beside the Lady Lettice?"

"His son, Madam."

"Were you acquaint with any of their wicked designs?"

"Not one of them, Madam, nor I never imagined no such a thing of any of
those gentlemen."

"Who of them all have you seen?"

"Madam, I have seen divers of whom I knew no more than to see them,
whose names--but no more--I can specify if your Ladyship desire it. But
those that I did really know and at all consort with were three only
beside Mr Tom Rookwood--to wit, Mr Percy, Mr Catesby, and Mr Thomas
Winter: and I saw but little save of the last."

"The boy's telling truth," said Lady Oxford to herself. "He has been
exceedingly foolish, but no worse." Then aloud she asked,--"Saw you
ever any priests there?"

"Not to know them for such, Madam."

"Tampered they with you in any wise as to religion?"

"Never, Madam."

"And you are yet at heart a true Protestant, and loyal to King James?"

"As much so as I ever was, Madam."

But as Aubrey spoke, the question arose in his conscience,--What had he
ever cared about either? Not half as much as he had cared for Tom
Winter,--nay, not so much as he had cared for Tom Winter's tobacco.

"Mr