"How can I ever thank her," replied Markham, "for having refrained, when a word from her lips would have sent me to the scaffold? My life trembled in the balance! As it was, a grain more would have weighed down the scale."
Seymour did as he proposed, and then handed the letter to his companion. "Stay," he said, thoughtfully; "stay--were it not well for you to tell that good girl, Ida Mara, who is truth and devotion itself, where you are to be found, in case of need? The King may not always leave my Arabella where she now is. In his caprices, he may remove her suddenly to some other abode; and if Ida knew where to find you, she might give you such intimations as are most needful."
"I will tell her," answered Markham, "if you think she can be fully trusted.--But remember, Mr. Seymour, my own life is at stake if I am found here. I came but to collect some small means together, and return to the continent with all speed."
"You must not do for me anything you think rash," replied Seymour; "but, for my own part, the dearest thing I had on earth I would trust to that girl without a fear."
"So be it, then," answered Markham; and the next day, at the hour appointed, he carried the letter to the terrace below Sir Thomas Parry's house.
Arabella and Ida Mara were there alone, and as he approached they were perfectly silent; but he had remarked a boat which followed him all the way up the river, at the distance of some two or three hundred yards; and merely saying, in a voice loud enough for them to hear, "In an hour I will be back," he tossed the letter lightly on the terrace and rowed on.
When he returned, he found the fair Italian there alone; and it being by this time twilight, he paused to hold some conversation with her, informing her where and how she was to find him, in case of need, under his assumed name. On this occasion, as the night before, Ida threw a note for her lady's husband into the boat; and during ten days a constant communication between Seymour and Arabella was kept up by the same means.
At length, one evening, the moment he came near, Ida Mara, who was sitting beside her mistress, on one of the benches with which the terrace was furnished, raised her rich melodious voice and began to sing.
SONG.
"Row on, row on! Another day