With such words of tenderness and hope, William Seymour soothed her apprehensions: and as several more days passed without any new cause for fear, Arabella became accustomed to their secret meetings, and looked for the hour of Seymour's coming with all the joy of expectant love; while he forgot the little incident of his meeting with Overbury, and gave himself up to a feeling of security.
At length, one morning, when he was sitting alone in his father's house in London, Sir Harry West was ushered in, with an expression of satisfaction in his countenance which spoke him the bearer of good tidings.
"You seem joyful, Sir Harry," said Seymour; "and I am sure, by your bringing your gladness here, that it has some reference to me. What is it, my good and noble friend?"
"I must not rejoice," replied Sir Harry West, "at the capture of an unfortunate wretch, whom the bigotry of an unfeeling monarch will certainly doom to the stake, I fear. But Legate is taken; and this searching of the ships suspended. Now follow my advice, William; lose not a moment; but bear your fair lady to another land. Time, the discoverer of all things, will tear away the veil from your connexion, make it as thick as you will. Sooner or later it must be avowed; put yourself beyond the reach of tyranny, and then proclaim it openly."
"I will not lose a day," replied Seymour; "it will take to-morrow to get everything into a state of preparation again, but surely the next day we can effect our escape."
"In whatever I can assist you, I will most gladly," said Sir Harry West, "I have got a purse at my lodgings, my dear young friend, which I need not, and you do; and if you will undertake to get everything ready in London, and prepare your fair lady, I will go down the river at once, and see that the ship be put in order, well furnished with men, and an ostensible cargo, and ready to sail whenever you join her."
All such matters were easily arranged; and when Seymour entered the boat that night to go down the Thames to Greenwich, it was with the bright hope of carrying Arabella, during the succeeding night, to a place of security, where all apprehensions of separation would be at an end. He reached the landing-place, walked up to the palace, and knocked as usual at Arabella's chamber, without anything causing him to suspect that he was watched.
Ida Mara came to give him admission as usual with a light; but just at that moment somebody came down vehemently from above, and, as if by accident, ran against him dexterously--for it was done on purpose--knocking his hat off, and exposing his face to the light.
The man was a famous sword-player, who had come down from London to Greenwich, to amuse the Prince and the Court; and catching Seymour by both arms, as if to steady himself, and avoid falling headlong down the narrow stair-case, he begged him a thousand pardons, assuring him that he knew not any one was there.
Seymour was upon his guard, however; and after saying in a calm tone that there was no need of apology, he turned, and with an air of indifference told Ida Mara to inform the Lady Arabella that Sir Harry West would have the honour of waiting upon her the next day at noon.