“Ah! but I must stay,” she said, “or who will speak for the Catholics? But now it is useless to think of seeing her Grace to-night. Yet to-morrow, maybe, she will be sorry,—she often is—and will want to make amends; and then will be our time, so you must be here to-morrow by dinner-time at least.”
“Oh, Mistress Corbet,” said the boy, “I wish I could do something.”
“You dear lad!” said Mary, and then indeed the tears ran down.
Anthony rode back to Lambeth under the stars, anxious and dispirited, and all night long dreamed of pageants and progresses that blocked the street down which he must ride to rescue James. The brazen trumpets rang out whenever he called for help or tried to explain his errand; and Elizabeth rode by, bowing and smiling to all save him.
The next day he was at Greenwich again by dinner-time, and again dined by himself in the oak parlour, waited upon by the Catholic servant. He was just finishing his meal when in sailed Mary, beaming.
“I told you so,” she said delightedly, “the Queen is sorry. She pinched my ear just now, and smiled at me, and bade me come to her in her private parlour in half an hour; and I shall put my petition then; so be ready, Master Anthony, be ready and of a good courage; for, please God, we shall save him yet.”
Anthony looked at her, white and scared.
“What shall I say?” he said.