At the Water Gate of the Palace the barge drew up and Ursula prepared to alight. She had spent the short moments of the transit between Westminster and Hampton Court in these heart-breaking daydreams. She hardly realized where she was and what she was doing. Once only, when first the cupolas of the Palace detached themselves from out the mist, she had felt such a desperate pain in her heart, that for a moment the wild hope came to her that God would be merciful and would allow her to die. But when she alighted she suddenly became conscious that the Cardinal de Moreno was standing before her, his delicate white hand outstretched to help her to step ashore. She shrank away from him as from a viper who had stung her and might sting her again. Not understanding his attitude, nor the motives which had led him to suggest to her the lie that had saved Wessex, she yet knew by instinct that this purple-clad, benevolent person, this kindly and courteous diplomatist was a thing of evil which had first polluted and then killed her love. His Eminence smiled--a kind, indulgent smile--when he saw the quick look of horror in the young girl's face, and he said very gently-- "Will you not allow me, my daughter, to accompany you to your apartments? The Queen, remember, hath confided you to my charge; I would wish to see you safely in Her Grace of Lincoln's care." "Your Eminence does me too much honour," she said coldly. "I can find my way alone through the Water Gallery." "Yet Her Majesty, meseems, will not allow her maids-of-honour to walk unattended in this part of the grounds," he added, with a slight touch of benevolent sarcasm. "My comings and goings have ceased to interest Her Majesty," rejoined Ursula quietly, "and I am no longer of sufficient importance to require watching or to demand an escort." "Well, as you will, my daughter. It is not for me to force my presence upon you, though, believe me, I would have wished to serve you." He was about to beckon to his retinue, who had stood respectfully aside during this brief colloquy, when with a quick, wholly unexpected movement, the young girl placed her hand upon his arm and forced him once more to turn and face her. "Your Eminence would wish to serve me?" she said, speaking rapidly and with a strange, peremptory ring in her voice. "Can you doubt it, my child?" he replied urbanely. "No," she said firmly, "for there is that between Your Eminence and me which, if known to the Queen of England, would for ever ruin your position in any court of Europe." "You would find it difficult . . ." he began, whilst a slight look--oh, a mere shade!--of fear seemed to creep into his eyes. "Nay! I was not thinking of betraying Your Eminence, nor the trap which you set for me, into which I was full willing to fall. I merely mentioned the existence of this secret for the awakening of your own conscience and because I have need of a service from you." "I will endeavour to fulfil your behests, my child."