Again, in the silence that succeeded this hot outburst, it was as if the Captain’s nerves vibrated audibly in his body. Awaiting the certain consequences of such mad temerity, he stole a significant glance at his lord, and saw in the intolerant face an expression which both startled and perplexed him. There was some obstupefaction in it, but not the fury he had expected. Instead, interest, curiosity, a suggestion of some faint and hard-held emotion, seemed to battle there for ascendancy or suppression. Yet the words that followed, though not what he had looked for, were sneering enough:-- ‘So innocent and yet so fearful! So guiltless a conscience, and yet that thought of peril! They hardly consort, according to my mind.’ The boy gave a curt laugh. ‘Decoyed hither by a lie, fallen upon and bound, my weapon taken from me; above all the character of him that holds me helpless in his power--it were unnatural for me, were it not, to dream of any harm designed me in such circumstances? Well, do your work. I understand so much of it that I am not a pleasant reminder in your eyes.’ ‘Ha! I will not ask of what.’ ‘I would not.’ ‘For your disarming, you brought it on yourself.’ ‘Would I had killed thine informer first.’ ‘And so, with thy bloody sword, on me!’ Brion looked steadily into the eyes of him that spoke it. ‘O!’ he said softly: ‘not upon _her_ son, but upon you, be charged that black unnatural thought.’ Leicester started ever so slightly, moved uneasily in his seat, looked away, and again at the upright figure before him. ‘Thou hast a bold spirit, boy,’ he said harshly. ‘Would I could trace it to a better source,’ answered Brion. ‘Thou----’ he looked for a moment as if he had received a blow; then again his expression changed. ‘Unbind him, Granton,’ he said. The soldier loosed the cord, setting the prisoner free. Leicester pointed to the curtain. ‘Within call,’ said he. ‘I’ll trust him.’ Granton disappeared, and the two were left alone together. The moment that was so, their eyes met in steady challenge. ‘I might answer,’ said my lord, in a low voice, ‘would I could trace my better self therein.’ He seemed to ponder on the face before him in a darkly brooding way. ‘So,’ he said, ‘you would not kill me?’ He received no answer but the same steadfast look, nor seemed to expect one. ‘Nor,’ he added, ‘design me any evil?’ ‘I have told you,’ was the reply, ‘my sole design is and ever has been to forget you live.’ Again a silence ensued, until suddenly Leicester spoke again:-- ‘What is your purpose, tell me, in seeking to be introduced at Court?’ ‘I do not seek.’ ‘What! it was not for that you were persuaded to leave your retreat?’ ‘So far from it that the knowledge of your presence there had made me reject such an offer though a thousand times more pressed.’ ‘So, it was pressed?’ ‘In a way--good-humouredly.’ ‘By whom?’ ‘By one that would do me a service--a friend.’ ‘And me a dis-service, perchance?’