Even as she spoke and before she had turned the silver key in the casket, her page had entered with the momentous news for which they both, in their different fashion, waited.
My Lord Strafford was in the audience chamber, all in a reek from hard riding.
They went down together, the King and Queen, and found the dark Earl, in boots and cloak still muddied, waiting for them.
"My faithful one!" cried Charles, "so thou art come!" and when Strafford would have knelt, he prevented him, and instead kissed him on the cheek.
"Sire," answered my lord, "I met your messengers on the road. I had already left York and was hastening to London to meet this accusation mine enemies do prepare to spring on me."
Charles seized his hand and grasped it warmly.
"I do approve thine action, and here confirm all expressions of favour I have ever given thee."
"Thy lady," added the Queen, smiling, "was, poor soul, fearful for thee, but thou art not, I think, seeing thou hast our protection and friendship."
"Madame," answered the Earl, fixing on her the powerful glance of his tired dark eyes, "I am fearful of nothing, I do thank my God, save only of some smirch on my honour, and that is surely safe while my gracious master holdeth me by the hand."
There was energy and purpose in his look, his carriage, his speech, his bearing had the unshakable composure of the fine man finely prepared for any fate.