“Is she at Southampton?” pursued Philip.
“No, my lord,” rejoined the Admiral. “Her Grace came these two days past to Winchester, where she will await your Highness’s coming. I had tidings of her so late as yester-morn, brought by my nephew, who is now with me.”
“Is this your nephew, my lord?” inquired Philip, glancing at a tall, well-proportioned young man, standing behind the Admiral.
The blooming complexion, clear blue eyes, brown waving locks, and features of this very handsome young man, proclaimed his Saxon origin.
“Ay, my lord, this is my nephew, Osbert Clinton,” replied the Admiral, eyeing the youth with a pride which the good looks and gallant bearing of the latter might perhaps justify. “He is fresh from her Majesty’s presence, as I have just declared to your Highness. Stand forward, Osbert, and tell the Prince all thou knowest.”
On this, the young man advanced, and bowing gracefully to Philip, gave him particulars of the Queen’s journey from London, of her stay at Guildford, of her meeting with the Marquis de las Naves, and of her arrival at Winchester—to all of which the Prince listened with apparent interest.
“What office do you fill at court, young Sir, for I conclude you have some post there?” demanded Philip, when young Clinton had done.
“I am merely one of her Majesty’s gentlemen,” replied Osbert.
“I would willingly have made a seaman of him,” interposed the Admiral, “and but that he dislikes the service, he might now be in command of one of yon gallant ships. Sorry am I to say that he prefers a court life.”
“He is in the right,” said Philip. “Unless I am mistaken, he has qualities which will be better displayed in that field than in the one your lordship would have chosen for him—qualities which, if properly employed, must lead to his distinction.”