“Knowing then that it is not in my power or right to dispose of her, thine ardent wooing was out of place,” said Richard.

“I own it, sir, though had I but had time I should have let the maiden know that I sought her subject to other approval, which I trust to obtain so as to satisfy you.”

“Young man,” said Richard, “listen to friendly counsel, and meddle not in perilous matters.  I ask thee not whether Dethick hath any commerce with Wingfield; but I warn thee earnestly to eschew beginning again that which caused the trouble of thy childhood.  Thou mayst do it innocently, seeking the consent of the lady to this courtship of thine; but I tell thee, as one who knows more of the matter than thou canst, that thou wilt only meet with disappointment”

“Hath the Queen other schemes for her?” asked Babington, anxiously; and Richard, thinking of the vista of possible archdukes, replied that she had; but that he was not free to speak, though he replied to Babington’s half-uttered question that his son Humfrey was by no means intended.

“Ah!” cried Antony, “you give me hope, sir.  I will do her such service that she shall refuse me nothing!  Sir! do you mock me!” he added, with a fierce change of note.

“My poor lad, I could not but laugh to think what a simple plotter you are, and what fine service you will render if thou utterest thy vows to the very last person who should hear them!  Credit me, thou wast never made for privy schemes and conspiracies, and a Queen who can only be served by such, is no mistress for thee.  Thou wilt but run thine own neck into the noose, and belike that of others.”

“That will I never do,” quoth Antony.  “I may peril myself, but no others.”

“Then the more you keep out of secrets the better.  Thou art too open-hearted and unguarded for them!  So speaks thy well-wisher, Antony, whose friendship thou hast won by thine honourable conduct towards my rash boy; though I tell thee plainly, the maiden is not for thee, whether as Scottish or English, Cis or Bride.”

So they parted at the gate of the park, the younger man full of hope and confidence, the elder full of pitying misgiving.

He was too kind-hearted not to let Cicely know that he should see her mother, or to refuse to take a billet for her,—­a little formal note necessarily silent on the matter at issue, since it had to be laid before the Earl, who smiled at the scrupulous precaution, and let it pass.

Thus the good father parted with Humfrey and Diccon, rejoicing in his heart that they would fight with open foes, instead of struggling with the meshes of perplexity, which beset all concerned with Queen Mary, and then he turned his horse’s head towards Wingfield Manor, a grand old castellated mansion of the Talbots, considered by some to excel even Sheffield.  It stood high, on ground falling very steeply from the walls on three sides, and on the south well fortified, court within court, and each with a deep-arched and portcullised gateway, with loopholed turrets on either side, a porter’s lodge, and yeomen guards.