"Ha, Master Snell!" cried the earl; "may his grace be spoken with?"
"On no account whatever, my noble lord," replied the page, "I am placed here expressly to prevent any one from approaching him: his grace is at his prayers."
"Go then, good Master Snell," said the earl, "and bid our royal master add one little prayer for the Earl of Devonshire, who has fallen in his house at Westminster, and is badly hurt; and tell his grace that I bear an humble message from the earl, who dared not confide it to a common courier."
"I go directly, my noble lord," said the page. "The king will find this bad news;" and making all haste, he left the room by a door on the other side of the apartment.
"This is indeed a kingly chamber," said Sir Osborne, gazing around upon the rich arras mingled with cloth of gold which covered the walls. "How poor must the court of Burgundy have seemed to the king, when he visited the Princess Regent at Lisle. And yet, perhaps, he scarcely saw the difference."
Even while he spoke, the door by which the page had gone out was again thrown open, and a tall, handsome man entered the apartment, with haste and peevishness in his countenance. He was apparently about thirty years of age, broad-chested and powerfully made, muscular, but not fat, and withal there was an air of dignity and command in his figure that might well become a king. He seemed to have been disturbed half-dressed; for under the loose gown of black velvet which he wore was to be seen one leg clothed in steel, while the other remained free of any such cumbersome apparel. The rest of his person, as far as might be discovered by the opening of the gown, was habited in simple russet garments, guarded with gold, while on his head he wore a small-brimmed black bonnet and a jewelled plume. Lord Darby and Sir Osborne immediately doffed their hats as the king entered, the young knight not very well pleased to see the irritable spot that glowed on his brow.
"How now, lord? how now?" cried Henry, as they advanced. "What is this the page tells me? Devonshire is hurt--is ill? What is it? what is it, man? speak!"
"I am sorry to be the bearer of evil news to your grace," replied Lord Darby, with a profound inclination; "but this morning, as my Lord of Devonshire was preparing to set out to render his duty to your highness, his foot slipped, heaven knows how! and his surgeons fear he has dislocated one of the bones of the leg. He, therefore, being unwilling to trust an ordinary messenger, begged me humbly, in his name, to set forth his case before you, and to crave your gracious pardon for thus unintentionally failing in his service."
"Tut! he could not help it," cried Henry. "The man broke not his bones and wrenched not his leg to do me a displeasure; and yet in this is Fortune cross-grained; for where now shall I find an aid who may supply his place? But, how now! What is this? Who have you with you? You are bold, young lord, to bring a stranger to my privy chamber! Ha! how now! Mother of God, you are too bold!"
Hope sickened in Sir Osborne's bosom, and bending his head, he fixed his eyes upon the ground, while Lord Darby replied, nothing abashed by the king's reproof--