He was a fine Fellow, _Hew_, in his Way, there's no gainsaying. He thought to free his Country from Harm; and, when he heard a Price was set upon his Head, he wrote his Name on a Slip of Paper and set it on his Cap. My Master was a-foot and in Harness on the Bridge all Night. The Women kept close and quite still above-stairs, while _Miles_ and I kept Watch below, but, I wot, they were as wakeful as ourselves. Towards Daydawn my Master comes in: Mistress _Anne_, in her white Wrapper over her Dress, leans over the Rail at the Stair-head, and cryeth, "Is all well?" "All well, my Heart!" returns her Father. "Oh! thank GOD," cries she; and meeting him half-way down the Stair, casts herself into his Arms. 'Twas _Sunday_ Morning; and maybe, a Day of much Prayer, if of little Church-going: but scarcely a Day of Rest. A Banner of Defiance was unfurled a-top of the Tower, and a heavy Piece of Ordnance discharged when they changed the Watch. Lord _Howard_ was walking to and fro on the Bridge, his Sword clanking at every firm, heavy Tread; and anon he goeth to the Gate at the _Southwark_ End, and calleth in a loud, determined Voice, "_Wyat!_" Presently some one makes Answer, "What would ye with him?" "I would speak with him," sayth my Lord. Answereth the other, "Our Captain is busy; if ye have any Message for him, I will bear it." "Marry," sayth my Lord, "ask of him what he meaneth by this Invasion; and whether he continue in his Purpose or no." The Messenger departed; and in about three Quarters of an Hour returned with a weighted Purse, containing Master _Wyat's_ Answer; which, being flung over the Gate, was received and read by my Lord, who tare it up, as good for Nought. On the _Saturday_ Afternoon, all Boats had been brought to the City Side of the River, not to be taken therefrom on Pain of Death. My Lord _Howard_ turning in to our House about Noon, for Refreshment, looketh fixedly on _Miles_, and sayth, "So you are young _Osborne_." "No, my Lord," quod I, stepping forward, "I am he;" thinking he had Somewhat to say unto me; but he only looked hard at me, and said "Oh." At Table, my Master helping him to Wine, he sayth, "That is a rare Brilliant on your little Finger, Master _Hewet_—may I be favoured with a nearer View of it?" "My Lord," sayth Master _Hewet_, "it is a Token-ring: I never take it off.—However," quod he presently, "you shall see it, and read the Posy inside; connecting it with the Matter we spake of just now." I noted a singular Smile on my Lord _Howard's_ Face as he returned it.