"Why, no one knows the matter," replied Blount; "I cannot smell it out
myself, though I have a nose like other courtiers. Only, my Lord of
Leicester has galloped along the bridge as if he would have rode over
all in his passage, demanded an audience of the Queen, and is closeted
even now with her, and Burleigh and Walsingham--and you are called for;
but whether the matter be treason or worse, no one knows."

"He speaks true, by Heaven!" said Raleigh, who that instant appeared;
"you must immediately to the Queen's presence."

"Be not rash, Raleigh," said Blount, "remember his boots.--For Heaven's
sake, go to my chamber, dear Tressilian, and don my new bloom-coloured
silken hose; I have worn them but twice."

"Pshaw!" answered Tressilian; "do thou take care of this boy, Blount; be
kind to him, and look he escapes you not--much depends on him."

So saying, he followed Raleigh hastily, leaving honest Blount with the
bridle of his horse in one hand, and the boy in the other. Blount gave a
long look after him.

"Nobody," he said, "calls me to these mysteries--and he leaves me here
to play horse-keeper and child-keeper at once. I could excuse the one,
for I love a good horse naturally; but to be plagued with a bratchet
whelp.--Whence come ye, my fair-favoured little gossip?"