“You will not be so mad,” he said, urbanely, again. “Of what can you complain to the Queen? Tut! tut! you must seek other friends than the Majesty of England.”
“Then, my lord, I will,” she answered, bravely. “I will seek the help of such a Friend as fails not when all fails, even He who putteth down the mighty from their seats and exalteth the humble.”
“Ah, well, if I have not touched your heart,” he answered, gallantly, “I at least have touched your wit and intellect. Once more I offer you alliance. Think well before you decline.”
He had no thought that he would succeed, but it was ever his way to return to the charge. It had been the secret of his life’s success so far. He had never taken a refusal. He had never believed that when man or woman said no that no was meant; and if it were meant he still believed that constant dropping would wear away the stone. He still held that persistence was the greatest lever in the world, that unswerving persistence was the master of opportunity.
“IT WAS THE QUEEN’S FOOL”
They had now come to two paths in the park leading different ways.
“This road leads to Kenilworth, this to your prison,” he said, with a slow gesture, his eyes fixed upon hers.
“I will go to my prison, then,” she said, stepping forward, “and alone, by your leave.”
Leicester was a good sportsman. Though he had been beaten all along the line, he hid his deep chagrin, choked down the rage that was in him. Smiling, he bowed low.