“’Tis what I would heartily desire,” smiled Sir Walter. “Howbeit, before we go, I must even present your Lordship to another friend--gentle Sir Robert Cecil.”
“Name him not!” said Essex. “Whatever he may be to me, he is no friend of thine.”
“Ah, my good Lord, I have approved him a right trusty one,” answered Raleigh. “Beseech thee, let me make him friends with thee.”
“Well, well, an’ thou art content, be it so!” smiled the young nobleman.
Sir Walter said no more; but, with a bow, and a gay smile, led the way up the stairs, and on to the library. There, in accordance with the injunction of Sir Walter, Cecil awaited them, but, to Sir Walter’s surprise, was taken quite aback at the appearance of the Earl of Essex. Although, however, he seemed to be so overwhelmed with astonishment to find the Earl of Essex an inmate of Durham House, he was no way slow to avail himself of Sir Walter’s offer, on their entry, to make him friends with that personage; and, accordingly, such a reconciliation was thereupon effected.
These matters being settled, both Essex and Raleigh prepared to set out forthwith for Portsmouth. The appearance of a troop of mounted gallants at Sir Walter’s door, equipped for a journey, had caused a rumour to spread abroad, through all that part of the town, that such was their intention; and an immense crowd had collected to bid them farewell. Loud acclamations saluted them as the two popular favourites appeared at the door. Again and again, after the manner of the time, they bowed to their horses’ necks in acknowledgment, but the popular applause no way diminished; and they rode off, at last, amidst hearty and renewed cries of “Hurrah for Raleigh! Long life to noble Essex! God speed you, England’s glory!”
The night was just falling, about three hours after the death of Inez, as the bark “Eliza” entered the Thames. Master Halyard, who commanded the watch, was about to go in quest of Hildebrand, in order to inform him of the ship’s position, when Hildebrand appeared on the deck.
Halyard fairly started as he glanced in his face. Its complexion was quite ghastly, and, though not inanimate, the expression that it wore, like that which the cunning sculptor gives to marble, was still and fixed, and wanted the spirit of motion. Moreover, his eyes, which were naturally light and penetrating, were heavy and swollen, and red with weeping.