"Thank God I am not a queen!" said Arabella, after a moment's pause. "But, to return," she continued; "what would you have me do, Sir Harry, in this business with the king? He may take offence if I go not forward to meet him, and think me wanting in duty; and, as you say, if I do approach the court, after the proclamation, I may be held as disobedient. What shall I do? I will be guided by your advice." "Stay here, dear lady," replied Sir Harry West, "and send a messenger to ask permission of the king. You will thus show both obedience and duty. Here is our young friend, William Seymour, doubtless he will willingly perform your behest, and be back in a day or two." William Seymour, however, did not look so well satisfied as the old knight expected; and Arabella Stuart paused for a few moments without reply, as if not quite willing to take advantage at once of the proposal. "I could scarcely venture to ask Mr. Seymour," she said, at length, raising her soft eyes to his face; "and perhaps he may not be inclined to go." William Seymour could not find in his heart so far to belie his own feelings as to say he was willing, and yet he dared not explain what those feelings were. Perhaps Arabella was not willing to send him; but of that we know nothing, although, if she was very anxious that he should be her messenger, she did not quite display a woman's skill in carrying her point. On the contrary, indeed, she was the first to furnish him with a fair excuse for declining the commission. "On second thoughts," she continued, after the young gentleman had made a somewhat hesitating tender of his services,--"on second thoughts, I must not even ask Mr. Seymour; for, if disobedience to the proclamation might bring the king's anger upon me, the same act would, of course, affect him in the like manner. There is the royal blood," she added, with a smile, "flowing in his veins as well as mine; and, of course, our sovereign's indignation would fall more heavily upon a man than upon a poor girl like me." "True," said the old man, "true; I had forgotten that; you must send some inferior person, lady. If you will write a letter to his majesty to-night, I will despatch it by a messenger to-morrow, who shall put into the hands of Sir Robert Cecil, to be laid before the King." "I will do it at once," replied Arabella, "and then hie me to my bed; for, to speak truth, I am somewhat weary with my journey, with the rain, and with my fall." The letter was accordingly written in all due form, beseeching the king to suffer his poor cousin to pay her duty to him, by meeting him on the road to London; and on the following morning, before Arabella had left her bed, a trusty messenger was bearing it towards the north.