“Say that I stole it, my lord. Say that I forced it from thee,” cried Francis, receiving it from him joyfully.
“That thou forced it from me?” echoed Lord Shrope with a laugh. “Why, girl, I had rather be beheaded.”
“Then will I leave it at thy house in London when I shall have obtained a horse,” said the girl dropping upon one knee by his side. “Forgive me, my lord, for my words,” and she kissed his hand with fervor. “Thou hast always been kind to me, but my father, sir. There is naught that I would not do for him.”
“Thou art forgiven. But hasten! Time is precious.”
Without further parley Francis bounded 197 from the room, and hurried through the palace yard, out of the great gate and down to the steps that led to the river.
Within the yard and at the landing-place there was a great deal of confusion. Servitors were running to and fro, courtiers were grouped together talking excitedly, while numerous officials and dignitaries were taking boat for London. Among these latter the girl discerned the form of Walsingham, the queen’s secretary of state. Her heart sank at sight of him.
“He goes to send pursuivants for my father,” was her thought, and her conclusion was correct. The secretary was indeed on his way to cause the arrest of the conspirators.
Seeing her among the followers of Walsingham, the watermen permitted her to enter one of the wherries and she found herself being carried to London more expeditiously than would otherwise have been the case. There was no indulgence on the part of the boatmen in song. Stern and silent they bent to their oars, responding with all their mights to Walsingham’s “Faster, my men, faster!”
It seemed to Francis that they no sooner 198 reached London than the whole city was ablaze with the news. Traffic was suspended, and citizens discussed in hushed accents the plot to kill the queen.
Francis made haste to Lord Shrope’s house in Broad Street, and by means of the ring, procured an excellent horse. Mounting him she urged the animal to great speed and was soon outside the city.