Although Hildebrand had expressed his readiness to leave England immediately, he was not so fully prepared, in regard to his personal affairs, as he at first conceived. However he might manage respecting himself, he could not so easily resolve how to dispose of Don Rafaele. It would be impossible, he felt, to take that person with him, as the enterprise he was about to embark in would doubtless be attended with great peril; and to leave him in England, where he was unknown, and where his youth and inexperience would have no protector, was almost equally repugnant to him. Unable to determine how he should act in the matter, he disclosed his embarrassing position to Sir Walter; and asked that cavalier, to whose opinion he invariably deferred, for his counsel thereon. “Prithee, let it give thee no concern, good Clifford,” answered Sir Walter. “He shall take up his abode with me; and, I promise thee, in case thou incur any mishap, he shall find in me a warm and hearty friend.” “That I am right sure of,” rejoined Hildebrand, “and heartily thank thee withal. But let us to the ship.” “Nay, we will send thither my groom,” said Sir Walter, “to notify to Master Halyard, whom the Lord Admiral has retained as thy lieutenant, that thou wilt be aboard at eventide. We will straight to town.” Hildebrand acquiesced in this arrangement; and it was, accordingly, on their arrival at the dock-yard gate, carried into execution. When the groom had been despatched to Master Halyard, Sir Walter and Hildebrand, without further delay, mounted their horses, and set out for town. On reaching Durham House, they were hailed with eagerness by Don Rafaele, who inquired as curiously after the news, especially in the matter which had taken them forth, as though he were an Englishman. “The news is, that I am straightway to take to the seas again, my fair Rafaele,” answered Hildebrand. “But be not thou discomposed thereat. Our right noble friend, Sir Walter here, will stand to thee in my stead, and provide thee a homestead ashore.” Don Rafaele changed colour. “I’faith, he likes not me for a host so well as thou,” cried Sir Walter, laughing. “I entreat thee, fair Senhor, look not on me with disfavour. By my lady’s hand, thou shalt find me a right faithful friend.” Don Rafaele, whether he credited Sir Walter’s protestation, or not, turned his head aside, and made no reply. That he was moved, however, and even deeply, was apparent; for his broad chest heaved again, and his face retained no trace of colour. “Nay, nay, be not downcast, Rafaele!” cried Hildebrand, yet in a voice far from cheering. “By my soul, the only grief that I know in this matter is, that I shall leave thee behind.” “Then, wherefore not take me with thee?” asked Don Rafaele, in a tone of reproach. “That were not reasonable,” answered Hildebrand. “I go on a mission of singular and exceeding peril.”