Half way across the Chase he met Sir Anthony. The old gentleman was walking out, with his staff in his hand and his dogs behind him, to take the air before supper. The man, while he was still a hundred paces off, began to wave his hat and shout something, which ale and excitement rendered unintelligible. "What is the matter?" said Sir Anthony to himself. And he stood still. "The queen is dead!" shouted the messenger, swaying in his saddle. The knight stared. "Ay, sure!" he ejaculated after a while. And he took off his hat. "Is it true, man?" "As true as that I left London yesterday afternoon and have never drawn rein since!" swore the knave, who had been three days on the road, and had drunk at every hostel and at half the manor-houses between London and Oxford. "God rest her soul!" said Sir Anthony piously, still in somewhat of a maze. "And do you come in! Come in, man, and take something." But the messenger had got his formula by heart, and was not to be defrauded of any part of it. "God save the queen!" he shouted. And out of respect for the knight, he slipped from his saddle and promptly fell on his back in the road. "Ay, to be sure, God save the queen!" echoed Sir Anthony, taking off his hat again. "You are right, man!" Then he hurried on, not noticing the messenger's mishap. The tidings he had heard seemed of such importance, and he was so anxious to tell them to his household--for the greatest men have weaknesses, and news such as this comes seldom in a lifetime--that he strode on to the house, and over the drawbridge into the courtyard, without once looking behind him. He loved order and decent observance. But there are times when a cat, to get to the cream-pan, will wet its feet. He stood now in the middle of the courtyard, and raising his voice, shouted for his daughter. "Ho, Petronilla! do you hear, girl! Father! Father Carey! Martin Luther! Baldwin!" and so on, until half the household were collected. "Do you hear, all of you? The queen is dead! God rest her soul!" "Amen!" said Father Carey, as became him, putting in his word amid the wondering silence which followed; while Martin Luther and Baldwin, who were washing themselves at the pump, stood with their heads dripping and their mouths agape. "Amen!" echoed the knight. "And long live the queen! Long live Queen Elizabeth!" he continued, having now got his formula by heart. And he swung his hat. There was a cheer, a fairly loud cheer. But there was one who did not join in it, and that was Petronilla. She, listening at her lattice upstairs, began at once to think, as was her habit when any matter great or small fell out, whether this would affect the fortunes of a certain person far away. It might, it might not; she did not know. But the doubt so far entertained her that she came down to supper with a heightened color, not thinking in the least, poor girl, that the event might have dire consequences for others almost as dear to her, and nearer home.