The Queen was still alone; but her brow, under the shadow of a light gold crown, which she had donned to attend the council, no longer looked kindly, but rather cold and severe. Sir Walter approached her in silence, and, on drawing nigh her chair, threw himself at her feet.
Nearly a minute elapsed before the Queen spoke; but, in the mean time, her eyes, which were remarkably penetrating, ran over the cavalier with a glance of displeasure. Sir Walter, however, kept his eyes on the floor, and never looked up once.
“By my father’s head,” cried the Queen, at length, “I have a right good mind to drive thee hence again! What can palliate thy gross perjury? Knowest thou aught, in the conception of mortal wit, that can afford thee a reasonable excuse?”
“Ay, think it over and over,” resumed the Queen, angrily; “and mark if thy subtlety frame a sufficient plea! Yet do I not blame thee, after all, so much as the hussey by whom thou wast decoyed. By the Lord, ’twere better for her, in this instance, that she had never seen a man. Which of my women was it?”
“My gracious liege,” said Raleigh, in a soft voice, “I were a traitor to profess, as I might, that I know not whereof I am charged withal; for Sir Robert Cecil hath advised me on’t at full. Nevertheless, I do solemnly protest, by thy fair hand, and mine own honour, ’tis utterly without ground.”
“How?” cried the Queen, starting up. “Wilt thou dare to tell me a lie?”
“Now, God forefend, dread sovereign!” said Sir Walter, his cheeks mantling with a deep flush. “’Tis true, I met a lady in the park last even; but, by all I regard sacred, she was no mistress of mine, nor any lady of the court. She was simply a poor friend--a poor, defenceless maid, who sought me with a suit to your Highness.”
“’Twas even so, your Highness,” answered Raleigh: “a maid (let me speak in pure sooth) whom I would perish rather than wrong.”
“Rise, Sir!” said the Queen; “we pardon thee! Let us hear this maiden’s suit.”
Sir Walter, re-assured by the Queen’s tone, entered on the task enjoined him with hearty good will; and, without concealing one particular, set forth how he had first become acquainted with Evaline de Neville, how her father had been arrested on a charge of murder, how Hildebrand Clifford, the captain of his expedition to America, had convinced him of Sir Edgar’s innocence, and how that person was now confined in Newgate. As he proceeded with his narrative, he expatiated at length, and in terms of the highest commendation, on the beauty, virtue, and modesty of Evaline, and showed how her affection for her father had induced her to share his prison at Exeter, and had since brought her to London. In conclusion, he implored the Queen, in consideration of her rare merits, to interfere personally in her behalf, and take her under her special protection.