"I'll be his bail," cried Sir William Arden at once. "I am a fool perhaps for my pains, as he indeed is a fool who is bail for any man; but the lad won't break his word, although leg bail is the best bail that he could have, or any one indeed, in this good kingdom of England, where accusations are received as proofs, and have been for the last thirty years, whichever house was on the throne. There was nought to choose between them in that respect." "You should be more careful, Sir William," answered Catesby with a grim smile. "The house which is on the throne is always the best. However, I take your pledge, and that of Lord Chartley; and now I will back to my post, taking it for granted, my lord, that this was really a woman who was with you, and that, even in such a case as this, a lie would not sully your lips." "I am not a politician, Sir William," replied Chartley, somewhat bitterly; "so I have no excuse for lying. The person who just now entered the abbey was a lady, seemingly not twenty years of age; and I pledge you my word of honour, that her chin never bore a beard, nor her head received the tonsure, so that she is assuredly neither man, friar, nor bishop." "Give you good day, then," said Catesby; and turning his horse he rode away, followed by the soldiers, who resumed their post around the wood. "There goes a knave," said the woodman aloud, as Richard's favourite trotted down the slope. "Had it not needed two or three men to guard you, my good lord, your parole would have been little worth in the Cat's eyes." "On my life, Boyd, you had better beware of him," rejoined Lord Chartley. "He does not easily forgive; and you have spoken somewhat plainly." "Humph! I have not been the only one to speak my mind this day," said the woodman. "I did not think there was anything in the shape of a lord, at the court of England, who would venture to show such scorn for a minion--unless he was on the eve of falling." "No hope of such a thing in this case," answered Chartley; "he is too serviceable to be dispensed with. But now I must have my horse. By good fortune, 'tis on the other side of the wood; so they will let us get it without taking it for a bishop." "And who is this bishop they are seeking?" asked Sir William Arden, as he walked down on foot at Chartley's side, by a somewhat circuitous path, to the cottage of the woodman.