"I am an old woman, Sir George," replied Lady Shrewsbury, looking round to several persons who stood near, "and though your taste may run in that way, I cannot favour you. Give me your arm, however; I will walk down the hall with you to get some breath, for here I am stifled." They walked on beyond the dancers; and, as soon as they were somewhat clear of the numbers which thronged the hall, the Countess gave her companion an inquiring look. "Now or never, beautiful lady," said Sir George Rodney; "the priest and Seymour are in the little antechamber, between the Lady Arabella's apartments and your own. Sir Harry West and the dark-eyed Italian girl are watching them, lest, like two lions, they should devour each other." "But it is before the time," replied Lady Shrewsbury, "and I determined that I would not tell her a word, till the last moment. I have not an instant to do so." "Nay, it is the time to a minute," answered Sir George Rodney; "they were long ere they began the dance. Seize the opportunity, lady, seize the opportunity. The happy moment always has swallow's wings. So catch it while you can." "I will try and speak with her now," said the Countess, "and bring her away if possible; but we must have a little time. Come with me; I know you will be ready to play your part, whatever it may be;" and moving slowly back to the spot where Arabella stood, she placed herself next to her niece, while Sir George Rodney contrived to insinuate himself on the other side, between her and the Earl of Montgomery, who stood near. "This gay gallant, Arabella," said the Countess, aloud, "wishes me to make myself ridiculous by dancing with him. Will you take compassion on him, fair niece?" "It is too warm and close to be compassionate," replied Arabella, with a smile; "I will wait a little, Sir George, by your good leave." At that moment, Lord Montgomery turned to answer some question of the Queen; and the Countess, approaching her lips close to Arabella's ear, whispered a few words in a hurried manner. She had not calculated the degree of her niece's firmness well. A sudden paleness spread itself over Arabella's face; and after gasping a moment for breath, she sank down upon one of the low stools, while Lady Shrewsbury had just time to catch her drooping head upon her arm. An immediate bustle took place around the spot; but Sir George Rodney exclaimed, "'Tis nothing but a swoon from the heat! She will be better in an instant, your Majesty. I will carry her into the ante-chamber for air;" and raising her, stool and all, he bore her through a door behind the throne, while the Countess supported her head.