“Ask, my maid.”
“My Lady answered me not; will you? What hath our Lady done to be thus shut close in prison?”
“She done?” was the answer, with a piteous intonation. Perrote looked earnestly into the girl’s face. “Amphillis, canst thou keep a secret?”
“If I know myself, I can well.”
“Wilt thou so do, for the love of God and thy Lady? It should harm her, if men knew thou wist it. And, God wot, she hath harm enough.”
“I will never speak word, Mistress Perrote, to any other than you, without you bid me, or grant me leave.”
“So shall thou do well. Guess, Amphillis, who is it that keepeth this poor lady in such durance.”
“Nay, that I cannot, without it be our Lord the King.”
“He, surely; yet is he but the gaoler. There is another beyond him, at whose earnest entreaty, and for whose pleasure he so doth. Who is it, thinkest?”
“It seemeth me, Mistress, looking to what you say, this poor lady must needs have some enemy,” said Amphillis.