It was not at first that the significance of these things revealed themselves to the playwright. It was not at first that he realized the use to which they might be put. Unconsciously, however, they were stored in his brain against the time they should be cast into the crucible of its invention.
Shakespeare learned much that evening from his talk with Gervase Heriot. Keen as had been his pity for him from the moment he had first heard his tragic history, their present intercourse deepened it rather than made it less. He was quick to recognize the depth and the valor of this young man’s soul, and that of the great-hearted girl who had dared all to save him from the scaffold. Theirs was a wonderful story, all compact of the very life-blood of drama. And when Shakespeare was told very simply that upon the arrival of that hour in which they could no longer hope to put off their foes, they had a plan whereby they might die together, such a declaration had the power to thrill the heart of one who spent his life in the devising of plays.
Long they talked together. On the one side was an intense sympathy, a fervent pity; on the other, a clear and manful courage that was not afraid to trust its instincts. And in this case those instincts were to put implicit faith in this stranger by the wayside, the power of whose personality was so compelling.
It happened about midnight, while Gervase and the player still talked together, that a traveler came into the inn parlor. Shakespeare saw at once that it was the falconer returned weary and despondent from his quest. The man came over to where they sat. His face and bearing were very tragic.
“You don’t happen to have seen anything of those gypsies I spoke to you about?” he said to the player.
Shakespeare shook his head.
“I have lost all track of them now,” said the falconer. “My belief is, they are somewhere in Oxford. At least, they were last seen outside this inn. And, in any case, I can go no farther to-night.”
“What gypsies are you seeking, friend?” asked Gervase.
The falconer and he had only seen each other once, and then only for a moment. Thus neither knew who the other was. The falconer gave a brief description of those whom he sought, but it was explicit enough to tell Gervase that Anne and himself were the objects of his quest.
“What might you be wanting with them?” asked Gervase.