He went on some hundred yards beyond the garden wall, but then turned, and suffered his boat to drop slowly down, the tide just beginning to ebb, till it came opposite the centre of the gardens, where he stopped, turning the head of the boat to the stream, and, like a trout at the tail of a ripple, keeping himself from being carried further on by a scarcely perceptible stroke of the oars. In a minute after, Ida passed the spot in her walk; and the boatman exclaimed, "Hist! hist!" She started, and looked down upon him; but he was a man of middle age, with his hair somewhat grey; and though he was dressed as a common waterman, there was something distinguished in his appearance which belied his apparel. "What are your wishes, sir?' said Ida Mara, approaching the edge of the terrace. "Is this Sir Alexander Marchmont's house?" asked the man. "No," replied Ida Mara; "it is Sir Thomas Parry's." "Then this is where the Lady Arabella Stuart is confined," rejoined the waterman. "The Lady Arabella Seymour is here," replied Ida Mara. "Not exactly as a prisoner, though by the King's order." "You have a foreign accent," said the man; "methinks it sounds like Italian." "It may well do so," replied the girl; and was about to turn away; but the rower asked immediately, "Is your name Ida Mara?" She started, and replied "Yes; who are you?" "A most unfortunate man," he answered; "but one devoted to your Lady, who has never forgot an act of generosity by which she saved his life. Tell her I have seen her husband, in the Tower, that he is well, and as happy as he can be, absent from her. Add that he is under scarce any restraint, can even go out within certain limits; and that I have promised him to bring her a letter from him tomorrow, if she will be here at his hour." "Stay, stay," said Ida; "I will go tell the lady, if you will wait but a moment." "Nay, I will return in a quarter of an hour," replied the man. "I may be discovered if I stay too long." "What name shall I give the Lady Arabella," asked Ida Mara, "in case she should wish to trust you with a billet?" The man paused and seemed to hesitate, but then replied, "My name is Markham, once Sir Griffin Markham. But tell her I have no schemes or conspiracies on foot. I have done with those things for ever, and only wish to serve her, and show her my gratitude before I die." In about ten minutes after, Ida Mara was again walking on the terrace; and before long, the boat once more shot over from the other side. "Here is a note," she said; "here is a note. The lady gives you her best thanks. Will you be back to-morrow?" "I will," replied the man, bringing his boat as close up to the terrace as he could. "Now, throw it over."