“And thee! and thee!” faltered Evaline, in broken, but earnest accents. Sir Edgar was silent for a moment; but, meantime, his eyes, though dimmed with tears, ran proudly over his daughter’s face. As he marked its exceeding loveliness, his discontent and apathy vanished, and he resolved, if only to assure _her_, he would bear up still, and assume the fortitude that he did not feel. “And thou hast come at last!” he said. “Well, now I have thee again, I care not what befalls.” “Be of good heart!” answered Evaline, with more composure. “We have a friend now, who will carry us through.” “Sir Walter hath not failed thee, then,” returned Sir Edgar. “I thought him noble; and right glad I am, in this eleventh hour, to be assured on’t.” “Alas, he is undone!” replied Evaline. “He hath lost the Queen’s favour, and been banished the court.” “Poor gentleman!” exclaimed Sir Edgar. “But where is Don Felix, dear?” “Fled to Spain,” answered Evaline. “A warrant was out to attach him; and, fearing the issue, he took flight directly.” “’Twas not well done to forsake thee, Eve,” remarked Sir Edgar, mournfully. He paused a moment, and then resumed. “But, certes, being under fear of imprisonment, his staying would not have availed thee.” “I needed him not,” said Evaline. “Captain Clifford, on parting with me, gave me a billet to a friend of his, one Bernard Gray; and he it is that got me a pass here.” “I’faith, Captain Clifford hath befriended us well,” rejoined Sir Edgar. “Who is this cavalier?” “I know not,” replied Evaline, “nor what is his influence, but he hath stood by me right nobly. He got me the pass yesterday; but he urged me, for some reason of his own, not to use it till to-day.” “Well, Heaven bless him, any way, for letting me see thee,” answered Sir Edgar. “I grieve sorely for poor Sir Walter.” “A right noble gentleman!” remarked Evaline. “He hath well proved the saying of the wise man,--‘Put not your trust in princes!’ But sit thee down, Sir. I will even be thy keeper myself to-day, and abide here till night.” Sir Edgar smiled, though mournfully; and suffered her, as she ceased speaking, to lead him to a contiguous seat. Drawing the other chair near, she seated herself, without more ado, by his side; and, with her hand clasped in his, resumed their conversation. “Now am I happier here with thee,” she said, smiling, “than I could be in a court without thee.” Sir Edgar pressed her hand. “Such love as thine, dear,” he said, “more oft visits the prison than the palace; and, faith, it makes this cold cell, with its walls of stone, brighter than a court.” “And we may see fairer days yet,” rejoined Evaline. “Master Gilbert tells me they must put thee on thy trial shortly.” “I would I could see Gilbert!” remarked Sir Edgar. “Think’st thou, thy new friend, Master Gray, can compass such a thing?” “I will speak to him on’t,” answered Evaline. “An’ his means equal his good will, he will do it.”