"And if you hear any man say that, shoot him dead, Sir Humphrey

Hyde," I said, for, through liking not that story about Bacon, I was

fiercer in defence of it.

"Faith, and I will, Harry," cried Sir Humphrey, "and Bacon was a

greater man than the king, if I were to swing for it; but, Harry,

you cannot by yourself move these. What will you do?"

But I begged him to say no more, and started toward the window, the

door being fast locked as Mistress Mary had left it, when suddenly

the boy stopped me and caught me by the hand, and begged me to tell

him if I thought there might be any hope for him with Mary

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Cavendish, being moved to do so by her sending him away so

peremptorily the night before, which had put him in sore doubt.

"Tell me, Harry," he pleaded, and the great lad seemed like a child,

with his honest outlook of blue eyes, "tell me what you think, I

pray thee, Harry; look at me, and tell me, if you were a maid, what

would you think of me?"

Loving Mary Cavendish as I did, and striving to look at him with her

eyes, a sort of tenderness crept into my heart for this simple

lover, who was as brave as he was simple, and I clapped a hand on

his fair curls, for though he was so tall I was taller, and laughed

and said, "If I were a maid, though 'tis a fancy to rack the brain,

but, if I were a maid, I would love thee well, lad."

"My mother thinketh none like me, and so tells me every day, and

says that I am like my father, who was the handsomest man in

England; but then mothers be all so, and I know not how much of it

to trust, and my sister Cicely loves Mary so well herself that she

is jealous, and often tells me--" then the lad stopped and

stared at me, and I at him, perplexed, not dreaming what was in his

mind.

"Tells you what, Sir Humphrey?" said I.

"That, that--oh, confound it, Harry, there is no harm in saying

it, for you as well as I know the folly of it, and that 'tis but the

jealous fancy of a girl. Faith, but I think my sister Cicely is as

much in love with Mary Cavendish as I. 'Tis but--my sister

Cicely, when she will tease me, tells me 'tis not I but you that

Mary Cavendish hath set her heart upon, Harry."




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