It was more than ten years since Lady Paton had seen her old home in the royal town; and although her father and sister had been to visit her more than once, Lady Guildford had never been able to travel so far, and an unconquerable longing to see her mother once more had driven Lady Paton to face all the perils and discomforts of the journey from Woodstock, that she might bring her two elder children to see their grandmother, and the dear home and noble Park where so many of her happy days had been spent.
It had not been deemed advisable that she should visit Greenwich while Queen Catherine held her Court there; but since she had been compelled to leave her husband's roof, and men were ordered to speak of her as the dowager Princess of Wales, and she was no longer Queen, it was thought that Lady Paton's wish to visit her old home might now be gratified, without risk of danger either to herself or her friends. Thoughts of the terrible dangers she had incurred through her marriage were pressing upon the lady now as she jolted along on her pillion, and made her cling to her husband involuntarily for protection, not so much from the thieves and beggars of the road, as from that sense of intangible danger that had crept over her for the last hour or two.
Sir Miles bade his servants quicken their pace as he noticed how people were running to gain the shelter of the city gates before it grew dark; and he muttered under his breath, "things must have gone from bad to worse since I was here last."
It was with a feeling of intense relief that Sir Miles at length helped his wife down from her pillion at the door of the inn near Westminster Stairs; for the cry of "Watch! Watch!" in a tone of terrible distress, proclaimed that some unfortunate traveller had been set upon by the thieves, and at no great distance either.
Sir Miles hurried his party into the shelter of the house, where rooms had been secured for their accommodation; and it was not long before Lady Paton and her children were sound asleep in their beds; while Sir Miles went to have a chat with his host, and learn the latest news of the town, and about public affairs in general.
But to his surprise the landlord did not seem disposed to talk about anything, or express an opinion on any matter he might mention. To all his questions and suggestions about this or that, the man simply shook his head in an owl-like fashion, and muttered, "It may be as you say, sir; but it is not for the likes of me to talk about the King and my Lord Privy Seal. He has made it plain to all men that it is by the King's grace that we live and earn enough to pay taxes; and more than that no man dare covet."
Sir Miles looked at the inn-keeper curiously; but the man looked stolidly solemn, as though he was speaking what was his own settled belief in the matter.
"Were you not mine host of this inn ten or a dozen years ago, when the great Cardinal lived close by, in the Palace of Whitehall or York House?"
The mask of stolidity seemed to break-up for a minute, as he said in answer to this question, "I thought I had seen your face before, sir. You were one of my Lord Cardinal's gentlemen, I trow."
"Yes! I think I knew him better than most," said Sir Miles, with a sigh of regret for his dead master. "He was a great man, take him for all in all," he added.