She could not tell how much or how little Cromwell knew of her meddling in a variety of plots against his life and government, but she expected her father’s name would secure her an audience, and she had such confidence in herself as to believe that an "opportunity" to influence the Protector was all she needed. Her first request, however, was met with a prompt refusal. She was not to be daunted. If her own name was not sufficient, she had others more potent. So she wrote on a card these words: "Lady Matilda de Wick has important information regarding Lord Cluny Neville; and for Mistress Jane Swaffham’s sake, she asks an interview." This message was instantly effective. While Matilda was telling herself that "she would not do the least homage to the Usurper," the door opened hastily, and he entered her presence. In the twinkling of an eye all her resolves vanished. His grave, sorrowful face, his majestic manner, and the sad, reproachful tenderness of the gaze that questioned her were omnipotent against all her prejudices. She fell at his feet, and taking his hand kissed it, whether in homage or in entreaty, she knew not. "My lord," she said, and then she began to sob. "My lord, I crave of you so many pardons—so much forbearance—I will never offend again." He raised her with an imperious movement, and leading her to a chair, remained standing at her side. "We will forget—the past is to be forgot—for your dear father’s sake. Quickly tell me what you know, I am in a great hurry." Without one unnecessary word she related all, and then put into his hands Prince Rupert’s letter, with her finger directing his attention to the terrifying postscript. And she saw with fear the rising passion in his countenance, and for a moment trembled when he looked into her eyes with such piercing inquiry that she could not resist nor misunderstand their question. "Sir," she cried, with a childlike abandon, "in this matter I am single-hearted as I can be. I wish only to put a great wrong right." "You tell me the truth, I believe you," he answered; "and I will take upon me _to see that it is done_. Say not a word to Jane Swaffham until there be a surety in the matter." Then she rose, and looking with eyes full of tears into his face, said, "Sir, I remember the day you pulled down the hazelnuts for me in de Wick park. My father walked with you, arm in arm, and I had your hand until you lifted me at the gates and kissed me. Sir, I entreat you, forget all that has come and gone since that hour, and dismiss me now, as then,"—and she lifted her lovely face, wet with the tears of contrition, and Cromwell took it between his broad, strong hands, and kissed it, even as he had kissed it in her childhood. "Go home, my dear," he said softly. "All that can be done I will do, and without delay. You believe in the God of your fathers, and you pray to Him?" "Yes, sir."