f illness, tidings he had just received in a letter from Humfrey. He
did not feel it needful to inflict a pang on the men who were to die in
two days' time by letting them know that she was to be immediately
brought to trial on the evidence extracted from them. On hearing that
her captivity was not straitened, both looked relieved, and Tichborne,
thanking him, lay down on his own bed, turned his face to the wall, and
drew the covering over his head.
"Ah!" sighed Babington, "is there no hope for him--he who has done
naught but guard too faithfully my unhappy secret? Is he to die for
his faith and honour?"
"Alas, Antony! I am forbidden to give thee hope for any. Of that we
must not speak. The time is short enough for what needs to be spoken."
"I knew that there was none for myself," said Antony, "but for those
whom--" There was a gesture from Tichborne as if he could not bear
this, and he went on, "Yea, there is a matter on which I must needs
speak to you, sir. The young lady--where is she?"--he spoke earnestly,
and lowering his voice as he bent his head.
"She is still at Chartley."
"That is well. But, sir, she must be guarded. I fear me there is one
who is aware of her parentage."
"The Scottish archer?"
"No, the truth."
"You knew it?"
"Not when I made my suit to her, or I should never have dared to lift
my eyes so far."
"I suppose your knowledge came from Langston," said Richard, more
perturbed than amazed at the disclosure.
"Even so. Yet I am not certain whether he knows or only guesses; but
at any rate be on your guard for her sake. He has proved himself so
unspeakable a villain that none can guess what he will do next. He--he
it is above all--yea, above even Gifford and Ballard, who has brought
us to this pass."
He was becoming fiercely agitated, but putting a force upon himself
said, "Have patience, good Mr. Talbot, of your kindness, and I will
tell you all, that you may understand the coilings of the serpent who
led me hither, and if possible save her from them."
Antony then explained that so soon as he had become his own master he
had followed the inclinations which led him to the church of his mother
and of Queen Mary, the two beings he had always regarded with the most
fervent affection and love. His mother's kindred had brought him in
contact with the Roman Catholic priests who circulated in England, at
the utmost peril of their lives, to keep up the faith of the gentry,
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