and led her towards a
small side-table, where she pressed wine and cates upon her.

"Be of good cheer, sweetheart," she said, in a soothing tone; "no harm
will befall your grandfather. You are much too high in favour with the
king for that."

"I liked the king much better as I saw him at our cottage, good dame,"
replied Mabel, smiling through her tears, "in the guise of a Guildford
merchant. He seemed scarcely to notice me just now."

"That was because so many eyes were upon you, sweet-heart," replied
Deborah; "but sooth to say, I should be better pleased if he did not
notice you at all."

Mabel blushed, and hung her head.

"I am glad you are to be an attendant on the Lady Fitzgerald," pursued
Deborah, "for she is the fairest young lady at court, and as good and
gentle as she is fair, and I am sure you will find her a kind mistress.
I will tell you something about her. She is beloved by the king's son,
the Duke of Richmond, but she requites not his passion, for her heart
is fixed on the youthful Earl of Surrey. Alack-a-day! the noble rivals
quarrelled and crossed swords about her; but as luck would have it, they
were separated before any mischief was done. The king was very wroth
with Lord Surrey, and ordered him to be imprisoned for two months in the
Round Tower, in this castle, where he is now, though his term has very
nearly expired."

"How I pity him, to be thus harshly treated!" remarked Mabel, her eyes
swimming with tears, "and the Lady Elizabeth too! I shall delight to
serve her."

"I am told the earl passes the whole of his time in poring over books
and writing love-verses and sonnets," said Deborah. "It seems strange
that one so young should be a poet; but I suppose he caught the art from
his friend Sir Thomas Wyat."

"Is he a friend of Sir Thomas Wyat?" asked Mabel quickly.

"His close friend," replied Deborah; "except the Duke of Richmond,
now his rival, he had none closer. Have you ever seen Sir Thomas,
sweetheart?"

"Yes, for a few moments," replied Mabel confusedly.

"I heard that he lingered for a short time in the forest before his
departure for Paris," said Dame Quanden. "There was a strange rumour
that he had joined the band of Herne the Hunter. But that must have been
untrue."

"Is he returned from France?" inquired Mabel, without heeding the
remark.

"I fancy not," replied the good dame. "At all events, he is not come to
the castle. Know you not," she added, in a low confidential t