“Hast thou sought access to him?” asked Sir Walter. “Twice,” answered Evaline; “but fruitlessly.” “’Tis a most cruel persecution,” said Sir Walter. “But fear not for the issue, dear lady. To-morrow, an’ events be not notably adverse, I will unfold the matter to the Queen, and secure you her protection.” “I cannot thank thee,” faltered Evaline, turning away her head. Sir Walter, not without emotion, gently pressed her hand, and suffered her to weep a few moments in silence. After a brief interval, he again addressed her; and in a soft, soothing tone, which fell on her depressed spirit with the most assuasive effect, exhorted her to take comfort, and to look to the morrow with confidence and hope. Whether from his words, or from some other cause, Evaline became more composed in a short time, and, though she spoke in an agitated voice, was able to answer him. “Thou art very, very kind,” she said. “We must bow to God’s will: and with His blessing, and thy help, we will even bear up. But I will not detain thee longer, brave Sir!” “I will attend thee to thy horse, dear lady,” replied Sir Walter. “Thou mayst then be observed,” returned Evaline, “and ’twere running a risk, under passing circumstances, for which there is no need. The man who bore thee my letter waits without the gate; and my servants, with our horses, which I thought it best not to bring so far, wait us on the heath.” “Thou hast in all things done well,” rejoined Sir Walter. “Be sure, I will bear thy business fairly in mind. Meantime, I bid thee farewell!” “Farewell, worthy Sir Walter!” answered Evaline. Sir Walter, doffing his plumed hat, raised her hand to his lips, and then suffered her to depart. He watched her till she had passed out of the gate, when, with a somewhat thoughtful step, he turned away, and proceeded slowly down the walk.