“Dear Nick,” he said, “yes. God bless you indeed! You spoke up well!” “Did I do right, sir,” said the other to Sir James, “I could not help it. I--” “Oh! Nick,” said the old man, and leaned forward and put his hand on his knee. Nicholas preened himself as he sat there; he would tell Mary how he had bearded his Majesty, and what a diplomatist was her husband. “You did very well, sir,” put in Mr. Herries ironically. “You terrified his Grace, I think.” Chris glanced at the lawyer; but Nicholas took it all with the greatest complacency; tilted his hilt a little forward, smoothed his doublet, and sat smiling and well-pleased. They reached the Stairs presently and put Mr. Herries ashore. “I will be at your house to-morrow, sir,” he said, “when you go to take Mr. Ralph out of prison. The order will be there by the morning, I make no doubt.” He bowed and smiled and moved off, a stiff figure deliberately picking its way up the oozy steps to the crowded street overhead. * * * * * Beatrice’s face was at the window as they came up the tide half-an-hour later. Chris stood up in the wherry, when he saw it, and waved his cap furiously, and the face disappeared. She was at the landing stage before they reached it, a slender brilliant figure in her hood and mantle, with her aunt beside her. Chris stood up again and cried between his hands across the narrowing space that all was well; and her face was radiant as the boat slipped up to the side, and balanced there with the boatman’s hand on the stone edging. “It is all well,” said Chris again as he stood by her a moment later. “He is to go free, and we are to tell him.” He dared not look at her; but he was aware that she stood very still and rigid, and that her eyes were on his father’s. “Oh! Mistress Beatrice--” Chris began to understand it all a little better, a few minutes later, as the boat was once again on its way downstream. He and Nicholas had moved to the bows of the wherry, and the girl and the old man sat alone in the stern. They were all very silent at first; Chris leaned on his elbow and stared out at the sliding banks, the trees on this side and that, the great houses with their high roofs and towers behind, and their stone steps in front, the brilliant glare on the water, the hundreds of boats--great barges flashing jewels from their dozen blades, spidery wherries making this way and that; and his mind was busy weaving pictures. He saw it all now; there had been that in Beatrice’s face during the moment he had looked at her, that was more than sympathy. In the shock of that great joy the veils had fallen, and her soul had looked out through her black tearful eyes. There was little doubt now as to what would happen. It was not for their sake alone, or for Ralph’s, that she had looked like that; she had not said one word, but he knew what was unspoken.