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Bourgoign alone excepted, since he was allowed to take the news of the death to their Graces of France, and had, most wisely, remained there ever since.

Meanwhile, there was but one thing to be done, and that the hardest of all to wait. Perhaps in a few days he might get speech with Mr. Bourgoign; yet for the present than, too, as the priest had told him, was out of the question. Five days were gone by, Sunday had come and gone, and yet there had been no news, except a letter conveyed to him by Merton, written by Mr.

"You met in Paris, eh?... And you profess a knowledge of herbs beyond the ordinary?" "Mr. Bourgoign is good enough to say so." "And you are after her Grace of Scotland, as they call her, like all the rest of them, eh?" "I shall be happy to put what art I possess at her Grace of Scotland's service." "Traitors say as much as that, sir." "In the cause of treachery, no doubt, sir."

On the following Saturday John Merton came up into the room where the priest was sleeping after dinner and awakened him. "If you will come at once with me, sir, you can have speech with Mr. Bourgoign. My master has sent me to tell you so; Mr. Bourgoign has leave to go out." Robin said nothing. It was the kind of opportunity that must not be imperilled by a single word that might be overheard.

"And it may be you will be sent for again?" asked Marjorie's voice gently from the darkness. "It may be so," said the priest. "The letter is to be sent here?" she asked. "I told Mr. Bourgoign so." "Does any other know you are here?" "No, Mistress Marjorie." There was a pause. "It is growing late," said Mr. John. "Will your Reverence go upstairs with me; and these ladies will come after, I think."

Bourgoign; he had said a month ago that surely none would come now. He had been away from Booth's Edge, in fact, for nearly a month, and had scarcely even asked on his return last Saturday to Padley, whether any message had come. Why, it was complete complete and irresistible!

"Repeat the blessing of the deacon by the priest at mass," murmured Mr. Bourgoign to the amazement of the other, without the change of an inflection in his voice or a movement of his hand. "Dominus sit in corde tuo et in labiis " began the priest. "That is enough, sir, for the present. Well?"

Bourgoign and himself, to the effect that the execution was appointed for eight o'clock next morning; and that he was to be at the gate of the castle not later than three o'clock, if, by good fortune, he might be admitted when the gates were opened at seven. And now that the priest was in his place, he began again to think over that answer of the Queen.

Melville, my master, sir. He bids me say it is useless for Mr. Bourgoign, or anyone else, to attempt anything with Sir Amyas for the present. Mr. Melville hath spoken to Sir Amyas as to his separation from her Grace, and could get no reason for it. But the same day it was of Monday her Grace's butler was forbidden any more to carry the white rod before her dishes.

The physician said nothing; he glanced sharply up and pointed to a seat set under the shelter of the wall that hid the greater part of the garden from the house to which it belonged; and as Robin reached it, Mr. Bourgoign, still gathering his herbs, began to speak in an undertone. "Do not speak except very softly, if you must," he said.