He stood looking into her face with his dark, sad eyes,--looking as if he believed indeed that it would be a last farewell. Constance was startled; and his mother's theories broke down at once, and she sobbed out in an agony-- "O Tom, Tom! My lad, my last one!" "You mean it, my Lord?" asked Constance, in a tone which showed that she was not wholly indifferent to the question. "I mean it right sadly, my Lady." "But you go not hence this moment?" Le Despenser sank down on the settle like the exhausted man he was. "This moment!" he repeated. "Nay, not so, even for life. I am weary and worn beyond measure. And to part so soon! One night to rest; and then!--" "My Lord, are you well assured of your peril?" suggested Constance. "This your castle is strong and good, and your serving-men and retainers many, and the townsmen leal--" She stopped, tacitly answered by her husband's sorrowful smile, which so plainly replied, "_Cui bono_?" "My Lady!" he said quietly, "think ye there is this moment a tower, or a noble, or a rood of land, that the Duke of Lancaster will leave unto us? I cast no doubt that all our lands and goods be forfeit, some days ere now." He judged truly enough. On the day of the fugitives' flight from Oxford to Cirencester, a writ of confiscation was issued in Parliament against every one of them. That was the 5th of January; and this was the evening of the 10th. There was a mournful rear-supper at Cardiff Castle that night; and no member of the household, except the wearied Bertram Lyngern, thought of sleep. Maude was busied in making up money and jewels into numberless small packages, under the orders of the Dowager, to be concealed on the persons of Le Despenser and his attendant squire. The intention of her master was to take passage on some boat bound for Ireland, and thence to escape into Scotland or France. Le Despenser slept late into the morning--no wonder for a man who had scarcely been out of his saddle for six days and nights. The preparations for the continuation of his flight were nearly completed; but he had not yet been disturbed, when a strange horn was heard outside the fosse of the Castle. Constance, who had risen early, and was in an excited state of mind, hastily opened a lattice to hear who was the visitor. "Who goes there?" demanded the warder's deep voice. "Sir William Hankeford, Justice of the King's Bench, bearing his Highness' warrant. Open quickly!" There could be no question as to his object--the arrest of Le Despenser. Constance breathlessly shut the window, bade Maude sweep the little packets of jewellery and coin into her pocket, dashed into her bower, and awoke her still slumbering husband. "Rise, my Lord, this instant! Harry of Bolingbroke hath sent to take you. We must hide you some whither." Le Despenser was almost too tired and depressed to care for apprehension. "Whither, my Lady?" he asked hopelessly. "Better yield, maybe."