“Faith,” he said, laying his hand familiarly on Sir Robert’s shoulder, which, from his superior height, he could do easily,—“Faith, I verily believe thou lovest me. Give us thy hand in this matter, then, as thou wouldst do me a service.”
“Have with thee, my hopeful Earl!” exclaimed Sir Robert. “But before we can further the design, we must to London.”
“I fear me, it is even so,” observed Sir Walter Raleigh. “I will but write a word of cheer to the imprisoned knight, and, with your good leave, we will then on to London.”
His two friends agreed to his proposal, and their discourse, which they did not allow to stop, thereupon passed to other topics. They were still conversing, when they arrived in front of an hostel, at the extremity of the long, straggling town, where, on the previous night, they had baited their horses. After a short conference, they entered the hostel, and proceeded to a room in its rear. Here, by the direction of Sir Walter, they were speedily supplied with a substantial breakfast, which they discussed at their leisure, and with all that hilarity and enjoyment, springing from a pursuit of the passing moment, which attend on health and appetite.
On the conclusion of their meal, Sir Walter, according to his previously-expressed intention, wrote to Sir Edgar de Neville, repeating his promise to procure him his liberty, and informing him, in a few words, how he purposed to pursue it. He entrusted the delivery of the note to one of his servants, and, not knowing that Sir Edgar had been removed, charged him to leave it at the gaol of Exeter, and then ride after him to London.
He and his two friends did not tarry long after the servant’s departure. Interchanging a few remarks on the subject of his mission, they rose from the breakfast-table, and proceeded to arrange the preliminaries of their journey to town. These were soon settled; and, after a short interval, they sallied forth from the hostel; and, mounting their horses, and attended by their several grooms, they set out for the metropolis.
Three days elapsed before they arrived at that place. On the third evening subsequent to their departure from Exeter, they came to Durham House, in the Strand, where Sir Walter Raleigh resided. There, after partaking of a light supper, his two friends took leave of Sir Walter, and, with the understanding that they were to meet again on the morrow, departed to their respective lodgings.
It was at the palace of Queen Elizabeth, at Westminster, that the friends had arranged to meet; and the following morning found Sir Walter on his way to the court at an early hour. Early as it was, however (and the clock of Westminster had not yet struck ten), the road to the palace was already a scene of bustle, and presented to view passengers of every order. From these persons Sir Walter received many a hearty cheer as he passed along, which he acknowledged with a graceful bow, and occasionally, when the cheering was accompanied by the waving of some fair one’s handkerchief (which was several times the case), by doffing his plumed hat, and bowing to his saddle-pow. Thus he rode along for some distance, when, just as he came in sight of the palace, he was overtaken by another horseman, who appeared to be almost equally in favour with the passing people.
The stranger was a slender young man, seemingly about eighteen years of age. He might, indeed, be two or three years older; but the freshness of his complexion, and his exceedingly slight figure (though the mould of his figure was unexceptionable), would hardly support such a conjecture. He was dressed with great splendour; but it was not his costly habits, but the charms which he derived from nature, that made his appearance imposing; and he needed no meretricious attractions to prepossess every unenvious eye in his favour.
“A fair morning to your worship!” he cried, on coming up with Sir Walter. “What fell and desperate design hast thou now in hand, that thus thou bearest down, equipped with all the art of a lover, on the court of our virgin Queen?”