"Instantly."
"Mr. Brand, I want to send Gloucester away. He's dangerous."
"Then have him closely watched. Enemies are invaluable, for their every movement is an index of danger to be overcome. Send Gloucester away, and at once the enemy is warned of your policy. That would be fatal."
"Forgive me, dear friend,"—Margaret hid her white face in her hands trying to stop the tears—"I have been such a coward while you are so brave! Yes, I will stay as a woman always must, while the men go out to fight."
"And after this," he said, wistfully; "knowing how weak I am for the Queen's defence, you will still depend on me, still trust me?"
She threw her head back, gazing upon him steadfastly for a minute, her eyes half closed.
"I must be a fool," she said, between tears and a terrible broken-hearted laughter. "You came to me and talked about things I don't understand, can't understand, don't want to understand. I only believe! I was an Empress, you were Mr. Brand—now you're the wind, and I'm a leaf in autumn. Trust you? Depend on you? Yes, I do!" Her face became radiant, her eyes full of light. "You serve me through disgrace and outlawry, you're ruined like I am, fallen, a broken man, and yet stronger, greater than ever, because nothing can frighten you. Don't look at me—your eyes fascinate me—I hardly know what I'm saying——" she reached out her arms to him. "I am become blind, led only by your eyes. Go and save England!"
The room was nearly dark, for only a small lamp burned dimly on the desk, but now a great red glare came in through the window space, and shone in flickering radiance on the wall. Out of the distance rose an awful murmur, the swelling volume of harsh-throated riot, the crackle of musketry, the shouts of men.
"Mr. Brand," said the Queen, "I dare not let you go. The streets are dangerous, you never could reach the Tower."
"I must go disguised."