Betsy began to vociferate that my father had bidden them to conduct me straight to Sion House, London, with no lingering on the way, but Sir Hubert silenced her.
'Some lingerings are needful,' he said. 'Your young mistress is worn out, and unless she rest upon the way she may never reach her destination.'
'I wish we could let my father know,' I said; 'but it would take a couple of days to reach him,[[1]] and a couple for his answer to return to me, even if I sent one of the men, and by that time I should have stayed the full time for which I craved his leave.'
[[1]] How slow were all modes of sending messages in those days may be gathered by the fact, recorded in history, that when Queen Mary died, the news was not known in York, until four days after her death in London,—EDITOR.]
Sir Hubert smiled.
'We shall have to do without it,' he said. Then he added more seriously, 'You will act upon my advice, will you not, and rest awhile with these friends?'
'Certainly I will,' said I, for I felt sure Sir Hubert was one of the wisest and best of men.
We seemed a long while getting to the castle after that, for the way led up a steep hill, and I was again overpowered by sleep; but I have a dim recollection of waking up to find myself being welcomed by a fair and gracious lady, whilst a big young man shook Sir Hubert by the hand as if he would never let him go, and many servants moved silently about, and Betsy was too overawed to speak and did nothing but what they bade her.
Soon I was lying on a huge bed, the posts of which were reaching up to the ceiling of my room, and then I fell asleep and knew no more.