"I know your true name, and that you are none of the mastiff race," said Antony.
"Did—did Tibbott tell you, sir?" asked Cicely.
"You are one of us," said Antony; "bound by natural allegiance in the land of your birth to this lady."
"Even so," said Cis, here becoming secure of what she had before doubted, that Babington only knew half the truth he referred to.
"And you see and speak with her privily," he added.
"As Bess Pierrepoint did," said she.
These words passed during the ascent, and were much interrupted by the difficulties of the way, in which Antony rendered such aid that she was each moment more impelled to trust to him, and relieved to find herself in such familiar hands. On reaching the summit the light of day could be seen glimmering in the extreme distance, and the maiden's heart bounded at the sight of it; but she found herself led somewhat aside, where in a sort of side aisle of the great bell chamber were standing together four more of the torch-bearers.
One of them, a slight man, made a step forward and said, "The Queen hath dropped her kerchief. Mayhap the young gentlewoman will restore it?"
"She will do more than that!" said Antony, drawing her into the midst of them. "Dost not know her, Langston? She is her sacred Majesty's own born, true, and faithful subject, the Lady—"
"Hush, my friend; thou art ever over outspoken with thy names," returned the other, evidently annoyed at Babington's imprudence.