“Hold!” cried Courtenay, “I would barter my soul to the enemy of mankind to possess Elizabeth. Swear to me she shall be mine, and I will reveal all.”
Gardiner gave the required pledge.
“Yet if I confess, I shall sign my own condemnation, and that of the princess,” hesitated Courtenay.
“Not so,” rejoined the chancellor. “In the last session of parliament it was enacted, that those only should suffer death for treason, who had assisted at its commission, either by taking arms themselves, or aiding directly and personally those who had taken them. Such as have simply known or approved the crime are excepted—and your case is among the latter class. But do not let us tarry here. Come with me to my cabinet, and I will resolve all your scruples.”
“And you will ensure me the hand of the princess?” said Courtenay.
“Undoubtedly,” answered Gardiner. “Have I not sworn it?”
And they quitted the presence-chamber.
No sooner were they gone, than two persons stepped from behind the arras where they had remained concealed during the foregoing conversation. They were De Noailles and Sir Thomas Wyat.
“Perfidious villain!” cried the latter, “I breathe more freely since he is gone. I had great difficulty in preventing myself from stabbing him on the spot.”
“It would have been a useless waste of blood,” replied De Noailles. “It was fortunate that I induced you to listen to their conversation. We must instantly provide for our own safety, and that of our friends. The insurrection must no longer be delayed.”