“Tush! friend, delay me not,” replied the intruder, halting, however, as he was required to do; “my haste is urgent, and that which I bear with me passeth ceremony--a letter to the queen! On your heads be it, if I meet impediment! See that ye pass it to her grace forthwith.” “A letter? ha! There may be some device in this; yet pass it hitherward.” A broad parchment, secured by a fold of floss silk, with its deeply-sealed wax attached, was placed in his hand. A light was obtained from the hatch of a caliver, and the superscription, evidently too important for delay, hurried the guards to action. “The earl of Nottingham”--it ran--“to his most high and sovereign lady, Elizabeth of England. For life! for life! for life!--Ride and run--haste, haste, post-haste, till this be delivered!” After a moment’s conference among the warders, the bearer was directed to advance; a yeoman led the panting horse away to the royal meuf; and the corporal of the guard, striking the wicket with his dagger-hilt, shortly obtained a hearing and admission from the gentleman-pensioner on duty. Within the palace no result was immediately perceived from the occurrence which had caused so much bustle outside the gates; the soldiers on duty conversed for a while in stifled whispers, then relapsed into their customary silence; the night wore on without further interruption to their watch, and ere they were relieved they had well nigh forgotten the messenger’s arrival. Not so, however, was the letter received by the inmates of the royal residence. Ushers and pages were awakened, lights glanced, and hurried steps and whispering voices echoed through the corridors. The chamberlain, so great was considered the urgency of the matter, was summoned from his pillow; and he with no small trepidation proceeded at once to the apartment of Elizabeth. His hesitating tap at the door of the ante-chamber--occupied by the ladies whose duty it was to watch the person of their imperious mistress by night--failed indeed to excite the attention of the sleeping maidens, but caught at once the ear of the extraordinary woman whom they served. “Without there!” she cried, in a clear, unbroken tone, although full sixty winters had passed over her head. “Hunsdon, so please your grace, with a despatch of import from the earl of Nottingham.” “God’s death! ye lazy wenches! hear ye not the man without, that I must rive my throat with clamoring? Up, hussies, up--or, by the soul of my father, ye shall sleep for ever!” The frightened girls sprang from their couches at the raised voice of their angry queen, like a covey of partridges at the yelp of the springer, and for a moment all was confusion. “What now, ye fools!” she cried again, in harsh and excited accents, that reached the ears of the old earl without--“hear ye not that my chamberlain awaits an audience? Fling yonder robe of velvet o’er our person, and rid us of this night-gear--so!--the mirror now! my ruff and curch! and now--admit him!”