Evaline made no reply: she did not seek even to release her waist, by which her emotion had been betrayed, from her father’s clasp; but, in this position, waited whatever intelligence might be about to be communicated.
She was not kept long in suspense. In a few minutes, the chamber-door was opened; and the gaoler, with a show of great deference, introduced two cavaliers. One of these, who was rather the taller of the two, Evaline recognised as the person who had been associated, in his capacity of magistrate, with the vindictive Shedlock, in the inquiry which had terminated in the committal of her father to prison; but the other was so closely muffled in a capacious riding-cloak, that she could not even conjecture, from any point in his appearance, who he could be. As the gaoler retired, however, and left them by their four selves, he threw back his cloak, and revealed the features of Hildebrand Clifford.
Both Evaline and Sir Edgar gave a slight start; but their surprise, though greater than can well be imagined, was quickly lost in the excess of their joy. Evaline, who was the first to recover herself, could hardly place a check on her feelings, and was almost impelled to spring to Hildebrand’s side, and reveal her pleasure in the warmth of her welcome. But she refrained from this procedure, though she could not repress a sweet and modest blush, bright as the feelings it expressed, which the excitement had called from her heart, and which secretly reproached her for her eagerness and impetuosity.
But Hildebrand needed not words to assure him he was welcome. He saw at a glance, not only that he was welcome, but that his presence afforded his two friends the very highest pleasure. He paused but a moment, and then, with a smile on his lips, stepped gracefully forward, and presented his left hand to Sir Edgar, and his right to Evaline.
“We meet in a gloomy place,” was all he said.
“God’s will be done!” said Sir Edgar, bowing his head.
“Hadst thou but told this gentleman, my good and honoured friend, that the hand that brought thee to such a pass was Hildebrand Clifford’s,” resumed Hildebrand, “thou hadst been safe in Neville Grange, Sir Edgar. But, never care, Sir: all will go well now.”
“I knew neither his name, nor thine, my friend,” answered Sir Edgar, pressing his hand.
“Mine I have told thee,” said Hildebrand. “This worthy cavalier is Sir Walter Raleigh.”
At these words, both Sir Edgar and Evaline, in spite of the conflicting feelings by which they were agitated, turned a glance of earnest curiosity on the face of Hildebrand’s companion; and, by the respect manifested in their looks, showed that fame had truly reported to them, in common with the world at large, the honourable reputation of that distinguished name. And the man whom suspicion had regarded as a paltry adventurer, or insinuated to be a spy, with whom no person of character could safely associate, was the friend and companion of Sir Walter Raleigh—one of the chief luminaries of the age. A glow of pride suffused itself over Evaline’s cheek, as if she had received a personal honour, apart from the share in the passing scene, in such a vindication of Hildebrand; and when Sir Walter advanced to accost her, she made a step forward to meet him, and presented him her hand unasked.