"I hold these gleams," she said, after a moment's consideration, "to
come, not from the churchyard, but from the hut of the old gardener
Blinkhoolie. I wonder what thrift that churl drives, that of late he
hath ever had light in his house till the night grew deep. I thought
him an industrious, peaceful man--If he turns resetter of idle
companions and night-walkers, the place must be rid of him."
"He may work his baskets perchance," said the page, desirous to stop
the train of her suspicion.
"Or nets, may he not?" answered the Lady.
"Ay, madam," said Roland, "for trout and salmon."
"Or for fools and knaves," replied the Lady: "but this shall be looked
after to-morrow.--I wish your Grace and your company a good
evening.--Randal, attend us." And Randal, who waited in the
antechamber after having surrendered his bunch of keys, gave his
escort to his mistress as usual, while, leaving the Queen's
apartments, she retired to her own [End of paragraph missing in original]
"To-morrow" said the page, rubbing his hands with glee as he repeated
the Lady's last words, "fools look to-morrow, and wise folk use
to-night.--May I pray you, my gracious Liege, to retire for one half
hour, until all the castle is composed to rest? I must go and rub with
oil these blessed implements of our freedom. Courage and constancy,
and all will go well, provided our friends on the shore fail not to
send the boat you spoke of."
"Fear them not," said Catherine, "they are true as steel--if our dear
mistress do but maintain her noble and royal courage.
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