There was a silence; Betty turned and went weeping into the house. Simon Raby played nervously with his sword. Sir William looked about him with a stern face.
“He is the King of England,” he said with stubborn loyalty, raising his hat. “God save the king’s grace and give the realm a prince!”
“Ay,” retorted my Lady Crabtree, bitterly, “and God pity his wives!”
CHAPTER XXII
MY LORD PRIVY SEAL
Lord Raby and Mistress Carew walked up and down the terrace before Wildrick Hall, while at the water-stairs a barge waited to take him to Whitehall. Her white gown fluttered in the soft breeze as she walked, and in her eyes shone the light of the spring sunshine.
“I go to arrange my affairs,” he said, “so that I may ride with you and your uncle to Mohun’s Ottery to-morrow. Happily, there is naught to detain me else, dear heart. I fear I should forget my duty for your sake.”
Betty smiled. “You will need to be prompt,” she said lightly; “my uncle waits for no man and is ever beforehand with time.”
“’Twould be a shame on me to be a laggard at such a time,” he answered. “Ah, Betty, how different the world looks when love touches it with golden fingers! I do think that I bear no man malice or ill-will, but rather would be friends even with mine enemies, but never with thine.”
A cloud passed over her face. “I pray you,” she said slowly “remember to avoid Barton Henge. My Lady Crabtree predicts that he will yet endeavor to do us some great mischief, and it makes me uneasy for you.”
“Fear not for me, my love,” he replied tenderly; “and as for you, surely the love that enfolds you shall ward off this snake. But I will be mindful of your fears, albeit I think he will avoid me as he would a pestilence.”