Sir Robert gave a mournful shake of his head. “Dost know how he hath displeased her, Sir Robert?” pursued the lady. “Faith, no, my Lady Nottingham!” answered Cecil. “It grieves me sorely. But, whatever come of it, I must even do her Grace’s errand; and so, I heartily wish your Ladyship god-den.” “God-den to you, Sir!” replied the Countess of Nottingham. Thus returning his valediction, she passed to the inner chamber again; and Sir Robert, without further delay, bent his steps to the lower hall. There, after a little time, which it required all his discretion to endure patiently, he procured a pursuivant; and, in obedience to the injunctions he had received, charged him with the delivery of the Queen’s letter. Having informed him that he would probably meet with Sir Walter in the park, he directed him, when he had delivered the letter, to come back to him, in the apartment called “the Hall of Virgins,” and privately let him know where Sir Walter was to be found. With these instructions, he parted from the pursuivant, and repaired to the apartment wherein, according to their arrangement, he was to await his return. Some time elapsed before the pursuivant re-appeared. But, though the interval was a long one, he returned at last, and briefly furnished Cecil with the information he required. “I have presented Sir Walter with the letter, your worship,” he said. “I would have returned straight; but he bade me, as a favour, to order his barge, and I could not cry him nay. He hath since gone off to London.” Cecil, being desirous of an early interview with Sir Walter, was somewhat disappointed by this intelligence; but he did not suffer his chagrin to reveal itself. Dismissing the pursuivant, he determined, as he could not see him that night, to visit Sir Walter early in the morning; and thus resolved, he quietly took his departure. The following morning found him an early visiter at the door of Durham House. The noble proprietor of that mansion, however, had been astir for several hours, and was now busily engaged in the various employments of his study. He sat at a long table, in the middle of the room, with his face, which rested on one of his hands, turned towards the window, and his back towards the door. On the table, within reach of his hand, were divers papers and books, and one volume lying open, which, on a close view, proved to be a collection of the plays of Shakspear. The open page presented, on one side, the faint trace of a pencil, marking some reader’s admiration of the following passage:-- “Oh, how wretched Is that poor man, that hangs on princes’ favours! There is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to, That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin, More pangs and fears than wars and women have; And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, Never to hope again.”