In a moment more the door was flung open again, and to Anthony's surprise Mistress Corbet came rustling out, as the people stepped back to make room. Her eyes fell on Anthony near the door, and she beckoned him to follow, and he went down the corridor after her, followed her silently along a passage or two, wondering why she did not speak, and then came after her into the same little oak parlour where he had supped. A servant followed them immediately with lighted candles which he set down and retired. Anthony looked at Mistress Corbet, and saw all across her pale cheek the fiery mark of the five fingers of a hand, and saw too that her eyes were full of tears, and that her breath came unevenly. "It is no use to-night," she said, with a sob in her voice; "her Grace is angry with me." "And, and----" began Anthony in amazement. "And she struck me," said Mary, struggling bravely to smile. "It was all my fault,"--and a bright tear or two ran down on to her delicate lace. "I was sitting near her Grace, and I could not keep my mind off poor James Maxwell; and I suppose I looked grave, because when the play was over, she beckoned me up, and--and asked how I liked it, and why I looked so solemn--for she would know--was it for _Scipio Africanus_, or some other man? And--and I was silent; and Alençon, that little frog-man burst out laughing and said to her Grace something--something shameful--in French--but I understood, and gave him a look; and her Grace saw it, and, and struck me here, before all the Court, and bade me begone." "Oh! it is shameful," said Anthony, furiously, his own eyes bright too, at the sight of this gallant girl and her humiliation. "You cannot stay here, Mistress Corbet. This is the second time at least, is it not?" "Ah! but I must stay," she said, "or who will speak for the Catholics? But now it is useless to think of seeing her Grace to-night. Yet to-morrow, maybe, she will be sorry,--she often is--and will want to make amends; and then will be our time, so you must be here to-morrow by dinner-time at least." "Oh, Mistress Corbet," said the boy, "I wish I could do something." "You dear lad!" said Mary, and then indeed the tears ran down. * * * * Anthony rode back to Lambeth under the stars, anxious and dispirited, and all night long dreamed of pageants and progresses that blocked the street down which he must ride to rescue James. The brazen trumpets rang out whenever he called for help or tried to explain his errand; and Elizabeth rode by, bowing and smiling to all save him. * * * * The next day he was at Greenwich again by dinner-time, and again dined by himself in the oak parlour, waited upon by the Catholic servant. He was just finishing his meal when in sailed Mary, beaming.