There was a kind of piquant joy in their hearts as they crept up past the Tower, and saw its mighty walls and guns across the water. He was there, but it was not for long. They would see him that day, and to-morrow--to-morrow at the latest, they would all leave it together. There were a hundred plans in the old man’s mind, as he leaned gently forward and back to the motion of the boat and stared at the bright water. Ralph and he should live at Overfield again; his son would surely be changed by all that had come to him, and above all by his own response to the demands of loyalty. They should learn to understand one another better now--better than ever before. The hateful life lay behind them of distrust and contempt; Ralph would come back to his old self, and be again as he had been ten years back before he had been dazzled and drugged by the man who was to die next day. Then he thought of that man, and half-pitied him even then; those strong walls held nothing but terror for him--terror and despair; the scaffold was already going up on Tower Hill--and as the old man thought of it he leaned forward and tried to see over the wharf and under the trees where the rising ground lay; but there was nothing to be seen--the foliage hid it. Chris, also silent beside him, was full of thoughts. He would go abroad now, he knew, with Margaret, as they had intended. The King’s order was the last sign of God’s intention for him. He would place Margaret with her own sisters at Bruges, and then himself go on to Dom Anthony and take up the life again. He knew he would meet some of his old brethren in Religion--Dom Anthony had written to say that three or four had already joined him at Cluny; the Prior--he knew--had turned his back for ever on the monastic life, and had been put into a prebendal stall at Lincoln. And meanwhile he would have the joy of knowing that Ralph was free of his hateful business; the King would not employ him again; he would live at home now, and rule Overfield well: he and his father together. Ah! and what if Beatrice consented to rule it with him! Surely now--He turned and looked at his father as he thought of it, and their eyes met. Chris leaned a little closer. “Beatrice!” he said. “What if she--?” The old man nodded tenderly, and his drawn eyes shone in his face. “Oh! Chris--I was thinking that--” Then Nicholas came out of his maze. Ever since his entrance into the palace, except when he had flared out at the King, he had moved and stood and sat in a solemn bewilderment. The effect of the changed atmosphere had been to paralyse his simple and sturdy faculties; and his face had grown unintelligent during the process. More than once Chris had been seized with internal laughter, in spite of the tragedy; the rustic squire was so strangely incongruous with the situation. But he awoke now. “God bless me!” he said wonderingly. “It is all over and done. God--” Chris gave a short yelp of laughter.