d,
The first to welcome, foremost to defend,
Whose honest heart is still his master's own;
Who labours, fights, lives, breathes for him alone,
Unhonoured falls, unnoticed all his worth,
Denied in heaven the soul he had on earth."
_Byron._

When the last sad rites of burial had been performed over the grave of
those who had fallen, Hansford, accompanied by Berkenhead and old Giles,
proceeded to the discharge of the trust which had been reposed in him.
It was indeed a mission fraught with the most important consequences to
the cause of the insurgents, to the family at Windsor Hall, and to
himself personally. It required both a cool head and a brave heart to
succeed in its execution. Hansford well knew that the first burst of
rage from the old Governor, on hearing the bold proposition of the
rebels, would be dangerous, if not fatal to himself; and with all the
native boldness of his character, it would be unnatural if he failed to
feel the greatest anxiety for the result. But even if _he_ escaped the
vengeance of Berkeley, he feared the impulsive nature of Bacon, in the
event of the refusal of Sir William to comply with his demands, would
drive him into excesses ruinous to his cause, and dangerous alike to the
innocent and the guilty. If Temple's obstinacy and chivalry persisted in
giving refuge to the Governor, what, he thought, might be the
consequences to her, whose interest and whose safety he held so deeply
at heart! Thus the statesman, the lover, and the individual, each had a
peculiar interest in the result, and Hansford felt like a wise man the
heavy responsibility he had incurred, although he resolved to encounter
and discharge it like a bold one.

It was thus, with a heavy heart that he proceeded on his way, and buried
in these reflections he maintained a moody silence, little regarding the
presence of his two companions. Old Giles, too, had his own food for
reflection, and vouchsafed only monosyllables in reply to the questions
and observations of the loquacious Berkenhead. But the soldier was not
to be repulsed by the indifference of the one, or the laconic answers of
the other of his companions. Finding it impossible to engage in
conversation, he contented himself with soliloquy, and in a low,
muttering voice, as if to himself, but intended as well for the ears of
his commander, he began an elaborate comparison of the army of Cromwell,
in which