And then I learned from him all that had happened below; and, hearing that Ned was arrested for his attack on M. de Rondiniacque, was for going forthwith to find him and to give him what comfort I was able. This, however, my father would not permit, but led me to his own chamber, where from the window we watched for Philip's coming. And although he made his return with a quickness truly wonderful, when the nature not only of the country he traversed, but also of the horse that carried him, come to be considered, so that we saw him close at hand before the Prince's half-hour was expired, yet the time seemed long indeed that he was coming, and the space left for conference when he was come appeared all too short. Having seen us waving signals to him as he forced his jaded nag up the grassy hill behind the house, he came at once to my father's chamber, where a few words told him how the matter stood. But when it was now time to descend and meet His Highness in the hall, the half-hour being expired, Sir Michael would by no means consent that his son should accompany him, having perhaps but little hope that his surrender might be avoided, yet keeping it, as it were, a last piece to move in the game. But it was good to stand by and hear these two men, so diverse in purpose, in honor so alike, and to feel in my heart so sweet a glow of pride in my own people. For I, with most at stake, could say no word to urge Philip's sacrificing himself. But they were agreed that no claim nor duty must be counted so great as that of shielding, and even, if it might be done, of restoring the man who had held his own honor second to theirs.
And so Sir Michael went to meet the enemy, telling me, as together we descended the stair, that I was his second line of support, and that Philip, waiting above, was his reserve, in case the struggle should begin to go against him.
In the hall we found awaiting us the Prince and Mr. Bentinck. In His Highness's countenance I thought were signs of a humor more kindly than my father would have had me to expect; for his aspect recalled rather the man that gave me his sword than him that took from me the broken blade. I had but one glance at him, however, for as Sir Michael passed on to address the Prince, there came over me a very hot and comfortless sense of shame, along with a wish—vastly unreasonable—that they should not recognize my features. So I turned aside from my father, and rested my arm upon the mantel, while I gazed blankly upon the glowing logs that filled the hearth. And behind me I heard my father tell, in phrases now judicial, now eloquent, and at times even impassioned, the tale of those accidents and troubles which had brought, as he said, his old friend, young Royston, into this bog of His Highness's disfavor.
But before it was all told a hand touched me upon the shoulder, and a dry and guttural voice with the one word—"Mistress," made me turn and confront Mr. Bentinck. His keen eyes seemed to search my countenance for the answer to some doubt or question in his mind. "Pray tell me," he said at length, "where is the latter part of His Highness's sword?"
"It is here, Mr. Bentinck," I answered, laying my hand where I had concealed that pointed fragment of steel; "here; near the heart it shall surely pierce if Edward Royston come to harm amongst you."
"I did think," he said, "that you were that boy that braved us all. And I believe, moreover, that you had great part in the escape of the priest."
"I had indeed the greatest part of all," I answered, being now resolved to cast myself upon his mercy; "for without my share the man had been still fast in your hands. But oh, Mr. Bentinck," I continued, "why are you his enemy?"
"Enemy! Whose enemy?" cried Mr. Bentinck. "Is it Captain Royston's you mean?"
"Ay, his," I answered. "Oh! he told me that you loved him not, but withal has no ill word for you, declaring you always the most honest of His Highness's servants."
Mr. Bentinck here seemed to muse a little. And then—"I thank him," he said. "If he be the same, I were sorry to be his enemy."