Sir Edgar was about to reply, when, while the words were yet on his lips, he heard the fastenings of the cell-door drawn back, and he paused. As he did so, the door was thrown open; and two persons, one of whom he recognised as the Governor of the gaol, entered the cell. “Thou hast given us but a short time, Sir,” said Sir Edgar, supposing he had come to part him from Evaline. “Howbeit, my daughter will speedily be ready.” “When she is ready, Sir,” answered the Governor, with a smile, “thou mayst bear her company.” “How mean’st thou?” asked Sir Edgar, in amaze. The Governor, without saying a word, but still smiling, stepped a pace or two nearer, and presented him with a folded paper. He seized it eagerly, and, with a trembling hand, drew it open:--it was an order from Sir Francis Walsingham, the Secretary of State, directing him to be set at liberty. CHAPTER VIII. Soon after Queen Elizabeth had entered Greenwich Palace, on the occasion before described, she parted from her two favourites, Raleigh and Essex, and retired to her boudoir. In a short time, however, she again appeared in the private hall, and there looked for those personages among the assembled courtiers. Essex, observing her glance, and conjecturing its object, was by her side in a moment; but Raleigh was nowhere to be seen. Elizabeth looked displeased at his absence; and, as Essex came up, she inquired if he had seen him. “Indeed, no, your Highness,” replied Essex. “But he will be here anon, no doubt.” “I’faith, I fear, not,” said a voice behind him, loud enough to be heard by the Queen. The Queen turned round; and her eye, now marked with displeasure, fell on the face of Sir Robert Cecil. “An’ it prove so, and thou art a friend of his, thou mayst fear in right earnest, Sir Knight,” she said. “By God! an’ he be not back shortly, it shall be the worse for him.” “Consider me not his friend, then, my gracious liege, an’ he forfeit thy good will,” replied Cecil. “Still,” he added, in a hesitating tone, which seemed to belie what he said, “I scarce can think he intends your Highness a wilful disrespect.” The Queen coloured. “I will give my word,” said the Earl of Essex, with much warmth, “he hath no such thought.” Unfortunately, however, the circle immediately round the Queen, to which the conversation was confined, included none of Sir Walter’s friends, and whispers and looks were interchanged, which far from confirmed the manly and straightforward declaration of Essex. The Queen, whom the bare appearance of a slight exasperated, was easily led into the general impression, and it became evident that Sir Walter was no longer to be looked upon as one of her chief favourites. “Thou must know where he is,” she said to Cecil, somewhat sharply, “or how couldst thou fear, as thou didst but lately profess, he would not attend us shortly?”