"What's that to you?" retorted the girl sullenly.
Lord Everingham once more made as if he would interrupt this curious interrogatory. His loyalty to his friend rebelled against this prying into matters which might prove unpleasant for Wessex.
That the girl was no Court lady out on some mad frolic was patent enough, whilst the passionate ring of her voice, when she mentioned the Duke's name, proved very clearly that she had seen him, and seeing him had perhaps learnt to love him.
Who knows? Some secret intrigue, not altogether avowable, might lie at the bottom of this strange adventure. Everingham's heart misgave him at the thought that Wessex' most open enemy should perhaps learn a secret hitherto kept from all his friends.
The girl, on the other hand, seemed willing to trust the Cardinal. She repeated doggedly once or twice—
"You'll take me to him? . . . at once? . . ."
"If I can," replied His Eminence, still very protecting, very suave and kind, "but not just now. . . . His Grace is with the Queen . . . you are too sensible and earnest, I feel sure, to wish to intrude upon him. . . . But will you not trust me a little while? . . . and I promise you that you shall see him."
"Nay! I've nothing to lose by trusting you or any one," she replied. "If you do not take me to him, I'll find my way alone."
"Come, that's brave independence. But, child, if I am to help you with His Grace of Wessex, I must at least know who you are."
"They call me Mirrab."