was revealed to the public. Ignominy and shameful death awaited the men who hoped to be welcomed as the saviours of their religion, the daring knights of their queen-lady. Their names were proclaimed and the nature of their intentions. Babington had fled to St. John's Wood, which was then a "forest interspersed with farms," and from there he managed to make his way to Harrow, where he with four others lay hid on haystacks and in the straw of barns. But they did not remain long undiscovered. Amid the ringing of bells and the wildest rejoicings they were taken back to London. And very soon they were hung, drawn and quartered publicly. How many knew of the Queen's imminent danger is not certain. Probably she kept it from her most intimate friends. Her strength was equal even to that. Nor is it known how much Ralegh knew of his mistress's danger; it is not likely that he was entirely ignorant of it, for to him was given the whole of Babington's estates, which were large and remunerative. It is certainly a last proof of Queen Elizabeth's amazing vitality, that in the midst of this dangerous turmoil of plot and counterplot which surrounded her, she was able to find occasion for the display of love and affection. For it was during these last desperate endeavours of the Catholic party that she first drew Ralegh to herself. She had seen to his advancement, and taken care that he was provided with the wealth that he needed for his position at Court and that his personal taste for magnificence desired. She had given him the Farm of Wines, which, even allowing for the money that one Richard Browne tricked him out of, brought him in a good income; and, in 1585, he succeeded Francis, Earl of Bedford, as Lord Warden of the Stannaries, and shortly afterwards became Lieutenant of the county of Cornwall, and Vice-Admiral of the counties of Cornwall and Devon. The Queen had need of staunch friends around her. And it is not due only to a woman's whim, at which many have mocked, that she kept these men, her favourites, at Court even sometimes against their will, as when she prevented Sidney, in 1585, from heading the Virginian colonists, and, a year or two later, sent Sir Robert Carey to fetch back the Earl of Essex. Their presence became a necessity to her, because their presence helped to vouch for her personal safety. It gave her an assurance of security to see such men by her side, though doubtless their presence flattered her vanity as well. Moreover, there seems to be something exhilarating in a woman who could go in perpetual danger and known danger of murder, and yet keep to the end her woman's desire for admiration, which is the producer of many graces, and not at all in itself a proof of pettiness. It depends upon what she considers to be admirable.