“Faith, Sir Walter, I think he will be hanged,” answered Sir Robert Cecil, with a smile. “But it gives one no good odour, in these days of peril, to be mixed up with such folk; and I would have thee wash thy hands of them.” Sir Walter, whether from surprise, or sheer vexation, bit his lip on hearing this remark, but said nothing. His companion, however, with the unguarded impetuosity of youth, cast all considerations of policy aside, and gave his feelings utterance. “Shame on thee, Sir Robert Cecil!” he exclaimed, angrily, “for giving such counsel. I hold Popery to be a damnable error; but, ’fore God, I would no more see a Papist wronged than I would do wrong to a true Christian.” “And dost thou know, my fair Lord of Essex, if wrong hath been done to this Papist?” demanded Sir Robert Cecil. “By my troth, one would think, from the discourse followed by thee, that justice held not an even course in the land. Thou shouldst measure thy words more prudently, or, in some evil hour, they may be reported to the Queen’s Highness.” “What I have a mind to say,” cried the young Earl, petulently, “I would say in her Highness’s presence--ay, or in her father’s either, were he living.” Sir Walter Raleigh, alarmed at the Earl’s indiscreet expressions, here laid his hand gently on his arm, and, having thus induced him to pause, sought to give his words a harmless interpretation. “So might any one, an’ their thoughts were as loyal and dutiful as thine,” he said. “But let us have no more hard words. I must help this knight; for, besides that I am inclined thereto by my will, he hath security for my aid in my plighted word. Thou art with me, I know, my Lord Essex; and if thou wilt make it a request to Sir Robert Cecil here, we will even have him also; for I dare swear, from the regard he hath for thee, that he can refuse thee nothing.” “That can I not,” murmured Sir Robert Cecil. Whether he intended it, or not, his words, though hardly distinguishable, reached the ears of the young Earl; and the haughty look that had just mounted to his face, as if to say it was out of the question for him to make any request, immediately vanished. “Faith,” he said, laying his hand familiarly on Sir Robert’s shoulder, which, from his superior height, he could do easily,--“Faith, I verily believe thou lovest me. Give us thy hand in this matter, then, as thou wouldst do me a service.” “Have with thee, my hopeful Earl!” exclaimed Sir Robert. “But before we can further the design, we must to London.” “I fear me, it is even so,” observed Sir Walter Raleigh. “I will but write a word of cheer to the imprisoned knight, and, with your good leave, we will then on to London.”