"Sirs," said the young man, with a sad smile irradiating for a moment the restless despair of his countenance, "it is not by choice that I am an intruder on your privacy; I will abstract myself so far as is possible."
"I have no secrets from my Chidiock," cried Babington.
"But Mr. Talbot may," replied his friend, "therefore I will only first inquire whether he can tell us aught of the royal lady for whose sake we suffer. They have asked us many questions, but answered none."
Richard was able to reply that after the seclusion at Tixall she had been brought back to Chartley, and there was no difference in the manner of her custody, moreover, that she had recovered from her attack of illness, tidings he had just received in a letter from Humfrey. He did not feel it needful to inflict a pang on the men who were to die in two days' time by letting them know that she was to be immediately brought to trial on the evidence extracted from them. On hearing that her captivity was not straitened, both looked relieved, and Tichborne, thanking him, lay down on his own bed, turned his face to the wall, and drew the covering over his head.
"Ah!" sighed Babington, "is there no hope for him—he who has done naught but guard too faithfully my unhappy secret? Is he to die for his faith and honour?"
"Alas, Antony! I am forbidden to give thee hope for any. Of that we must not speak. The time is short enough for what needs to be spoken."
"I knew that there was none for myself," said Antony, "but for those whom—" There was a gesture from Tichborne as if he could not bear this, and he went on, "Yea, there is a matter on which I must needs speak to you, sir. The young lady—where is she?"—he spoke earnestly, and lowering his voice as he bent his head.
"She is still at Chartley."
"That is well. But, sir, she must be guarded. I fear me there is one who is aware of her parentage."
"The Scottish archer?"