Rumours were afloat in London, Susan said, that the Cardinal had fallen out of favour at Rome, and that the Pope (Paul IV) had deprived him of his legatine commission and had recalled him to Rome. The Archbishop was in bad health, and on this plea the Queen had refused to give him permission to leave the country. These things brought great unhappiness to the Queen, and added to them was the increasing malignity of her disorder—she was evidently sinking into the grave—and there was none to pity her! "Alas, poor Queen," wrote Susan, "unloved by her people, deserted by her husband, worried by the Pope, and conscious, above all, that she had failed in the one object of her life, and that her successor, the Princess Elizabeth, would undo all her work for the 'conversion' of England." Yet Susan had some good news to tell them. "Sir John was in excellent health, and he had lately received news from their beloved father that he and their dear Vicar were well, and were determined to return to England on the day when the Princess should be declared Queen. "Oh, when will you three dear boys come home?" she wrote. "How I long for that day, how I picture ourselves at the beloved home in Sussex, the sweet old house at Chiddingly! "I close my eyes, and my mind pictures to me the green woods and the noble sweep of the Sussex downs. I seem to hear the cawing of the rooks in the tall trees and the singing of the birds in the shrubberies. Oh, I grow mad with deep longing! God send you home quickly, safe and sound." The boys listened to these words with bated breath—perhaps with moistened eyes—for Susan's passionate love for her Sussex home expressed their own deep longings. "Here comes Lord Clinton," said Geoffrey suddenly, as he saw their lord's well-known figure approaching the tent. They rose to receive him; then, as he took a seat, after some pleasant words of greeting, William spoke— "We are happy to see you, my Lord; we are anxious to know if our marching orders have been given." "It is on that very point that I am come to see you. I have my marching orders, but I am not sure that I shall take you with me." The young "aides" started with surprise; but ere they could seek an explanation of his words Lord Clinton proceeded to say— "I wish to hold a brief consultation with you. Count Mansfeld has just brought me some sinister news. He tells me that his reiters have discovered that it was Ralph's poniard which disabled the man who was afterwards hung from the cathedral turret, and they have sworn to avenge his death. "He has sent them a message that he will sharply punish the perpetrators of any such an attempt, but Mansfeld tells me that his men are in a dangerous humour, and he wished me to warn you to keep to the limits of your own camp, and that even within those limits Ralph should never wander alone." The young soldiers smiled disdainfully. "Our swords can guard our heads, my Lord, we have no fear!" said Geoffrey.