She was sitting, one afternoon, talking to Stephen about advices he had just received from his confederates in London, when a servant entered. "My lady," he said, "here has come a man with a letter, which he will deliver to none but you." Matilda’s first thought was, "It is some private word from Rupert;" and she ordered the messenger to her presence at once. When she saw it was Jane’s writing, she was much annoyed. "I will wager it is some bad news, or it had not come through this gate," she said; and she opened the letter with angry reluctance. Hastily she glanced over the lines, until she came to the discovery of the plot. "Oh, indeed, here is the burden of Jane Swaffham!" she cried in a passion. "We are discovered. All is known—all has been known from the very first. Stephen, you are in instant danger. You must away at once." "I do not believe it." "Fool! How else could Jane have sent this word? She says Cromwell has known it from its beginning. The man has a devil; who can circumvent him? You must fly at once. The warrant for your arrest will doubtless come by to-night’s mail. My God, are our troubles never to cease? Is everything not countersigned by Cromwell to be a failure? It is unendurable!" "Everything with which Prince Rupert meddles is unfortunate," answered Stephen. "He assigns all he touches with failure. I said so from the beginning. He is, and was, the King’s evil genius." "You lie! You lie downright, Stephen! But this is no time for quarreling. You must away, and that at once." "And, pray, how? or where? I will not run. I will stand or fall with the rest." "What drivel, what nonsensical bombast are you talking? It is ’I,’ ’I’ and still ’I’ with you. Have you no consideration for others—for uncle and aunt, and for poor, dying Anthony? Think of all he has done, and at least let him go in the belief that he has saved de Wick." "It is better to stand together." "It is already—I’ll wager that much—every man for himself. You must take the North Road to Hull; you are sure of a ship there." "And how the devil, sister, am I to reach Hull?" "Take the sorrel horse; if any one sees you, you are for Squire Mason’s;" then hastily unlocking a drawer, she brought a little bag of gold and put it in his hand. "There is enough and to spare for your road to Paris." He flung the gold from him, and Matilda clasping her hands frantically, cried "My God, Stephen, are you not going?" "Storm your utmost, Matilda. I care not a rap; I will not budge from this spot." "But you must go! Stephen, Stephen, for my sake," and she burst into passionate tears and sobs. "Be quiet, Matilda. Women’s counsel is always unlucky, but I will run, if you say so. I feel like an ever-lasting scoundrel to do it." "They will all run—if they can. There is a little time yet in your favour. The mail-rider does not pass here till eight o’clock, or after. You have four or five hours’ grace."