"We call him still Lord Osborne," answered the old woman, "for I was his nurse, when he was young, your worship, and his christened name was Osborne. But his title was Lord Darnley, by those who called him properly. God bless him for ever! Now, Richard, tell his honour how all the misfortunes happened." "'Twill but tire his honour," said the old man. "In his young day he must have heard how Empson and Dudley, the two blackest traitors that ever England had, went through all the country, picking holes in every honest man's coat, and sequestrating their estates, as 'twas then called. Lord bless thee, Kate! his worship knows it all." "I have heard something of the matter, but I would fain understand it more particularly," said the stranger. "I had learned that the sequestrated estates had been restored, and the fines remitted, since this young king was upon the throne." "Ay, truly, sir, the main part of them," answered the old man; "but there were some men who, being in the court's displeasure, were not likely to have justice done them. Such a one was my good lord and master, who, they say, had been heard to declare, that he held Perkyn Warbeck's title as good as King Harry the Seventh's. So, when they proved the penal statutes against him, as they called it, instead of calling for a fine, which every peasant on his land would have brought his mite to pay, they took the whole estate, and left him a beggar in his age. But that was not the worst, for doubtless the whole would have been given back again when the good young king did justice on Empson and Dudley; but as this sequestration was a malice, and not an avarice like the rest, instead of transferring the estate to the king's own hand, they gave it to one Sir Payan Wileton, who, if ever a gallows was made higher than Haman's, would well grace it. This man has many a friend at the court, gained they say by foul means; and though much stir was made some eight years agone, by the Lord Stafford and the good Duke of Buckingham, to have the old lord's estates given back again, Sir Payan was strong enough in abettors to outstand them all, and then----; but I hear horses' feet. 'Tis surely Sir Payan sent to hound me out even from this poor place." As he spoke, the loud neighing of the stranger's horse announced the approach of some of his four-footed fraternity, and opening the cottage door, the old man looked forth to ascertain if his apprehensions were just. The cloud, however, was cleared off his brow in a moment, by the appearance of the person who rode into the garden. "Joy, good wife! joy!" cried the old man; "it is Sir Cesar! It is Sir Cesar! We are safe enough now!" "Sir Cesar!" cried the traveller; "that is a strange name!" and he turned to the cottage door to examine the person that approached.