'What is it, sweetheart?' he asked, reading trouble in my eyes, and then, as I could not immediately answer him, he went on to tell me that he had been past Sion House several times in his boat, but without seeing me. 'I looked for you, dear. But you were not here,' he said. 'However, all is well that ends well, and now that I have you at last I shall not spoil the time by regretting what is past.' He paused. And still I could not talk, having enough to do to keep from breaking down and weeping. He therefore continued, 'I have been to your home in Sussex, and have asked your father's permission to become betrothed to you, and, after he had heard all I had to say, he willingly gave it and said that he would write to you. Has he written?' 'No,' said I, shaking my head. 'But he is ever slow to write about anything. He promises, and then he puts off doing it, for writing is ever irksome to him.' 'Ah, well, it does not matter, does it, sweet one? We understand each other, and he has consented to our betrothal, and that is quite enough,' and he pressed my hand. 'Enough truly,' said I. 'But oh!----' and I stopped short, sighing heavily, for indeed it did seem most heartless of us to be settling up our own happiness, as it were, when my poor mistress was in such dire distress. And again Sir Hubert, reading my trouble in my face, besought me to tell him all that was distressing me. I told him everything, not omitting my own negligence in failing to prepare my mistress for what was in store for her upon the king's death. He knew of the latter sad event, and of course regarded the matter of Lady Jane's unhappiness quite differently from what I did. 'They are right,' he said, 'who want to make Lady Jane queen instead of the Papist Mary. Think of the horrors that would befall this land if Roman Catholicism prevailed. Have you forgotten all I told you about the awful Inquisition? Consider what it would be if established here in England. No one would be safe. You might be talking to me one half hour and the next that which is worse than the grave might have swallowed me up for ever, or perchance you. No one is secure where secret deaths and tortures pervade the land. Oh, the misery, the weeping of loving relations for their friends who have vanished from them in that way! You have no idea what it is like. And even,' he continued earnestly, 'even if Lady Jane does not want to be queen, it is expedient that one should suffer a little rather than many a great deal. And she ought to be glad,' he concluded zealously, 'she ought to be glad that she is chosen to do a great work for England. As a true-hearted woman, she will be ready and willing to sacrifice herself for others.' 'Yes,' said I, 'she will, I know, if she can be brought to look at it in that way. No discomfort to herself will in her mind militate against doing the thing that is right.' 'Therefore she will do it.'