'I started up in a tremor of agitation and dismay. "Oh, go! make haste; you will be discovered. She will be here directly."
"'I must see you again; but where?" said Lord Desmond, in a low voice, grasping the hand I held out to him as if he never meant to let it go.
'"Yes, yes, you shall. Come to the gardens—to the hornbeam walk they call Queen Mary's Bower—it will be safer than here—to-morrow at eight, when Her Majesty is at supper," replied Beatrice rapidly, as, confused and helpless, I looked to her for a suggestion.
'"You promise?" eagerly asked Algernon.
'"Yes, I promise," I repeated after him, in as steady a tone as my fright would permit.
'He hurriedly raised my hand to his lips, bowed low to Beatrice, and quitted the room without any further delay. It was not one moment too soon. Beatrice had barely time to close the door behind him and execute a little pirouette, expressive of satisfaction and relief, when Lady Derby entered by the opposite door, in a state of displeased surprise at my non-appearance in the Queen's cabinet. What excuses Beatrice made for me, and how I managed to go through the usual routine of duties for the rest of the day, I do not now remember. I was in a sort of dream the whole time, thinking over all that Lord Desmond had told me, building fantastic castles in the air, and impatiently longing for night, when I might be alone again, and read Oliver's letter in peace and quietness. The afternoon promenade had never seemed so irksome, nor supper such an endless business before. At cards I did not know whether my fortune was good or bad until I was told, and received the announcement of my losses so placidly, that I was complimented on the sweetness of my temper. I cannot say there was much sweetness left in it by the time bedtime came. Early as the hour was at which the Household retired to rest, I felt as if it never would come. When, however, at last ten o'clock struck, and the Queen had been attended with the usual formalities to her bed-chamber, and all the ceremonious "good-nights" had been said, Beatrice Falkland put her arm into mine as I turned towards my own room, and begged me to take pity on her, for she was dying of curiosity to know who the mysterious Mr. Carroll really was, and what his business with me. Of course I told her everything, and the story was sufficiently out of the common way to satisfy even he: appetite for romance.
'"My dear Frances," she said, "I vow it is exactly like the plot of the last play we went to see. A cruel father! a lover in disguise! a secret meeting! All en regie; only I believe that the hero in the piece had stabbed the heroine's brother, or poisoned her uncle, or committed some crime of that sort. 'Tis rather a pity that you are already married. It spoils the dramatic 'situation.' Now, own yourself grateful to me for my address in managing this little adventure for you. You would never have consented to see that poor, despairing, handsome Mr. Carroll, if I had given you any choice in the matter."
'But the subject appeared too serious for more than a very faint smile at Beatrice's extravagances; and when she rushed with much zest into a description of the various stratagems necessary for the management of my promised interview in Queen Mary's Bower, I became alarmed and bewildered at the prospect of what I had undertaken. I could not enjoy the concealment and mystery as she seemed to do, and, moreover, I was very doubtful of my power of so keeping my secret that no one in the Palace should suspect me of having one. Had it not been for my promise to Lord Desmond, and my desire to prove to him that I too could be generous and disinterested, I really believe I should have given up the fulfilment of the appointment altogether. But it was too late for that. So I let Beatrice talk on till she had fairly tired herself out; and when at last she departed, I gave a sigh of relief, and, snatching the precious letter from my pocket, prepared to get what comfort I could from the closely written pages. Oliver's warm praises of his friend, and his assurance that I should soon learn to care for Algernon as much as he did, made me smile and blush a little; and when he told me all that he had gradually learnt of Lord Desmond's utter friendlessness and poverty—of how, in spite of the services he had rendered the King, he was barely tolerated at the Court of St. Germains, on account of the difference of his religion—of how he had indignantly rejected the proposal of receiving my dowry as the price of the resignation of his bride—my doubt and despondency melted away entirely, and I resolved, more firmly than ever, to help him.
'But that meeting in Queen Mary's Bower, which I thought of all the next morning with a mixture of feelings impossible to describe, never took place after all. Long before the appointed hour arrived, the news had spread through the Palace that the banished Earl of Desmond had been discovered in disguise, lurking in the neighbourhood of Hampton Court, apprehended, and sent off to the Tower. Beatrice brought me the tidings, looking scared and horrified—as well she might: for to be sent to the Tower on the charge of conspiring against the Government was a prelude to certain death in case of the prisoner being found guilty; and Lord Desmond's name had so long been connected with the Jacobitical plots, that there was little chance of the accusation, falling to the ground for lack of witnesses and proofs. But if Beatrice was distressed, I was perfectly dumb with horror. Was this to be the end of all my brilliant plans for gaining Lord Desmond's pardon, and then recalling him from exile and obscurity to the enjoyment of "his own again"—the produce of my own exertions and entreaties? Was he no longer to have even the wretched alternative of death, and the life of banishment and poverty of which he was so weary? Oh, why had he been so mad as to risk his liberty for the sake of seeing me for a few minutes? And what an unsatisfactory interview it had been! "He does not even know the answer I meant to have given him," I cried in despair. "I daresay he thinks me a mercenary, heartless, unfeeling wretch, and that his arrest is of my contriving. Oh, Beatrice, what shall I do?" But though I asked the question, I knew that I might as well expect counsel from a humming-bird, or a butterfly, as from Beatrice.
'No one could be more bright and ready in managing the little intrigues and adventures in which she delighted. But the present emergency was much too serious for her; and she could only cry and caress me, put on a very pretty air of penitence for her share in bringing about our misfortunes, and suggest schemes of rescue and flight which could only succeed on the stage, and which, even there, would have been scouted by a critical audience. I could not help giving a somewhat derisive smile at her very wild schemes, and then sat trying to collect my thoughts, and decide what course of action I had better take first. Something must be done, and that speedily. But what? Would it be best to explain everything to the Queen, and entrust Algernon's safety to her kind heart and merciful interference? or should I rush to my father, who was in London, absorbed in parliamentary business, and bespeak his influence and aid, as if I had no more doubt of his will than of his power to be of assistance to his son-in-law?