“I am sorry, fair mistress, to lose you a lover,” Cromwell said, looking with some admiration and much kindness at the passionate distress on Betty’s face, “but the service of the king’s grace should be nearer your heart than this young nobleman.”
“My lord,” said Betty bravely, her face flushed and her eyes shining, “you have been misled by circumstances; you do Lord Raby an injustice. I know that he is guiltless; I pledge my faith upon it!”
“I doubt not your faith in him, my mistress,” Cromwell answered dryly, “but, unhappily, he gave me the packet which revealed the most damnable plot that it hath been my misfortune to behold.”
“Would he have given it, my lord, had he been guilty?” exclaimed Raby’s defender, valiantly; “surely that alone declares his innocence.”
My lord privy seal shook his head.
“’Twas but a mistake,” he said; “doubtless he meant to give me another. What was it you said of papers, Carew?”
“I had intrusted some documents full of reports of matters in Devon, which you had requested, to Lord Raby’s keeping,” Sir William answered; “he was to deliver them to you, but I fear they went astray.”
Cromwell looked thoughtfully from the window.
“’Tis strange,” he said; “there were no such matters on his person. If I told you what he bore, ’twould amaze you. I fear that there is no clear excuse; though, in the interest of this young lady, I would rejoice could one be found.”
“My lord, it shall be!” said Betty, firmly. “I pray you only give me time; let me see my Lord Raby in the Tower, and I will unravel this mystery.”