The man of policy had already laid his first toils, when Sir Walter Raleigh, unconscious of danger, and still thinking of the appointment that he had just made with Evaline de Neville, entered the outer hall of Greenwich palace. At the same moment that he entered on one side, an aged-looking man, of a grave and venerable appearance, made his ingress on the other. The old man was dressed in a long blue robe, embroidered, on the left breast, about half-way down, with the royal arms; a high ruff, or frill; and a black velvet cap, fitted close to his head. He walked very lame, and leaned on a stout staff, headed with gold, which seemed to bow beneath the weight of his age and infirmities. Though somewhat discomposed, Sir Walter’s first impulse, on observing the old man’s approach, would have led him to spring to his side, and proffer him the support of his arm. Before he could realize his intention, however, he caught the old man’s eye, and it dealt him such a glance as forbade approach. After his eye had thus rested on him for near a moment, the old man, seeming suddenly to recollect himself, dropped him a formal bow, and prepared to pass on. Sir Walter, however, though he saw that he bore him no good-will, was not disposed to suffer him to pass thus; and before he had yet taken a step forward, he accosted him. “Give thee good day, my Lord Burleigh,” he said. “I grieve to see your Lordship walk so lame.” “I would ye could all walk straight!” answered Burleigh, with a sour and significant look. “Thy new friends, the Papists, be ever walking lame.” The gouty minister passed on with these words. His look and manner, being so unusually churlish, had not been unobserved by Sir Walter; and, taken in connexion with his words, they seemed to him to menace him with some serious mischief. He did not doubt that the pointed expressions of the minister alluded to his friendly disposition towards Sir Edgar de Neville. But, allowing his supposition to be correct, how had he been made acquainted with this disposition, or how, in the present stage of the affair, could it excite his enmity? This was a mystery--a question which, with all his experience of courts and courtiers, Sir Walter could not at the moment unravel. Nothing transpired during the day to lend the uneasiness he began to feel any additional incitement. The evening came at last; and as the hour at which he had arranged to meet Evaline drew nigh, with seeming reluctance and tardiness, he sallied into the park, intending to proceed straight to the spot he had appointed.