So Mary rallied herself, and in five minutes more was as eager in giving her directions to Cicely and to the Curlls as though her heart had not recently failed her.

Cis was to go forth with her chaperons, not by any means enjoying the message to Babington, and yet unable to help being very glad to escape for ever so short a time from the dull prison apartments.  There might be no great faith in her powers of diplomacy, but as it was probable that Babington would have more opportunity of conversing with her than with the Curlls, she was charged to attend heedfully to whatever he might say.

Sir Ralf’s son-in-law, Mr. Somer, was sent to escort the trio to the hall at the hour of noon; and there, pacing the ample chamber, while the board at the upper end was being laid, were Sir Ralf Sadler and his guest Mr. Babington.  Antony was dressed in green velvet slashed with primrose satin, setting off his good mien to the greatest advantage, and he came up with suppressed but rapturous eagerness, bowing low to Mrs. Curll and the secretary, but falling on his knee to kiss the hand of the dark-browed girl.  Her recent courtly training made her much less rustically awkward than she would have been a few months before, but she was extremely stiff, and held her head as though her ruff were buckram, as she began her lesson.  “Sir, I am greatly beholden to you for this token, but if it be not sent with the knowledge and consent of my honoured father and mother I may not accept of it.”

“Alas! that you will say so, fair mistress,” said Antony, but he was probably prepared for this rejection, for he did not seem utterly overwhelmed by it.

“The young lady exercises a wise discretion,” said Sir Ralf Sadler to Mrs. Curll.  “If I had known that mine old friend Mr. Talbot of Bridgefield was unfavourable to the suit, I would not have harboured the young spark, but when he brought my Lady Countess’s commendation, I thought all was well.”

Barbara Curll had her cue, namely, to occupy Sir Ralf so as to leave the young people to themselves, so she drew him off to tell him in confidence a long and not particularly veracious story of the objections of the Talbots to Antony Babington; whilst her husband engaged the attention of Mr. Somer, and there was a space in which, as Antony took back the watch, he was able to inquire “Was the egg-shell opened?”

“Ay,” said Cis, blushing furiously and against her will, “the egg was sucked and replenished.”

“Take consolation,” said Antony, and as some one came near them, “Duty and discretion shall, I trust, both be satisfied when I next sun myself in the light of those lovely eyes.”  Then, as the coast became more clear, “You are about shortly to move.  Chartley is preparing for you.”

“So we are told.”

“There are others preparing,” said Antony, bending over her, holding her hand, and apparently making love to her with all his might.  “Tell me, lady, who hath charge of the Queen’s buttery?  Is it faithful old Halbert as at Sheffield?”