od's name, let them
not catch them at all! But to use a friend, and make a Judas of him; to
make the very lips that have spoken friendly, speak traitorously; to bait
the trap like that--it is devilish. Let him go, let him go, madam! One
priest more or less cannot overthrow the realm; but one more foul crime
done in the name of justice can bring God's wrath down on the nation. I
hold that a trick like that is far worse than all the disobedience in the
world; nay--how can we cry out against the Jesuits and the plotters, if
we do worse ourselves? Madam, madam, let him go! Oh! I know I cannot
speak as well in this good cause, as some can in a bad cause, but let the
cause speak for itself. I cannot speak, I know."

"Nay, nay," said Elizabeth softly, "you wrong yourself. You have an
honest face, sir; and that is the best recommendation to me.

"And so, Minnie," she went on, turning to Mary, "this was your petition,
was it; and this your advocate? Well, you have not chosen badly. Now, you
speak yourself."

Mary stood a moment silent, and then with a swift movement came round the
arm of the Queen's chair, and threw herself on her knees, with her hands
upon the Queen's left hand as it lay upon the carved boss, and her voice
was as Anthony had never yet heard it, vibrant and full of tears.

"Oh! madam, madam; this poor lad cannot speak, as he says; and yet his
sad honest face, as your Grace said, is more eloquent than all words. And
think of the silence of the little cell upstairs in the Tower; where a
gallant gentleman lies, all rent and torn with the rack; and,--and how he
listens for the footsteps outside of the tormentors who come to drag him
down again, all aching and heavy with pain, down to that fierce engine in
the dark. And think of his gallant heart, your Grace, how brave it is;
and how he will not yield nor let one name escape him. Ah! not because he
loves not your Grace nor desires to serve you; but because he serves your
Grace best by serving and loving his God first of all.--And think how he
cannot help a sob now and again; and whispers the name of his Saviour, as
the pulleys begin to wrench and twist.--And,--and,--do not forget his
mother, your Grace, down in the country; how she sits and listens and
prays for her dear son; and cannot sleep, and dreams of him when at last
she sleeps, and wakes screaming and crying at the thought of the boy she
bore and nursed in the hands of those harsh devils. And--and, you can