The Count took the letter and perused it. "We will speed to his assistance," he said, as he refolded it. "And, now, how goes all in Warwickshire. Hath Sir Hugh Clopton returned?"
"Of Warwickshire I have not much news to give," said Martin. "Sir Hugh is still in the Low Countries. At Shottery all is as usual. Your steward commends him to you. Yet, stay, there is some further news of your own neighbourhood. Your old playmate, Anne Hathaway, is married to young Shakespeare."
"That I concluded must have taken place," said the Count, "since, when I left Shottery, they were to be united in a few days. I trust she will be happy. The bridegroom is, however, somewhat young to make a steady husband. I think I have heard you say you knew something of the lad: report speaks of him as a wild youth."
"Report is in something correct, I believe," said Martin. "To say I knew him well would be to say more than I should be warranted in affirming. What I did know of that young man served me for matter of reflection. For his wildness I cannot offer excuse, except that he hath a mounting spirit; nay, I will venture to affirm, that had your expedition been delayed a week, he would have joined in it."
"'Tis better as it is," said the Count, "I would not that my good friend Anne should so soon lose her husband."
"There is, however," continued Martin, "startling news from London, and which I rather think I am the first to announce in this town, as I over-rode a foundered post between this place and Canterbury. The Queen of Scots, 'tis said, is again involved in a dangerous conspiracy to destroy our brave mistress, Queen Elizabeth."
CHAPTER XXXI.
THE BENEDICT.
The course of events connected with our story has necessarily obliged us to deviate from the locality in which we have heretofore progressed. We must, however, now again, after such brief excursion, return to the spot from whence we started, and as the sun shines brightly upon park and field, and wooded glade, once more look upon fair and fertile Warwickshire.