“I will bring one next time I come,” said the warder.

“Nay, that will not do. I’d not have my friend’s flowers fade. Go, like a good fellow, bring me a bowl and leave your son with me that I may thank him for his gift.” He picked up the boy. “You will stay with me … locked in my cell for a little while, will you not? You are not afraid to stay with me?”

The boy said: “I wish to stay with my lord.”

The warder looked fondly at his son and, seeing that to be locked in the cell with Lord Robert would delight him, agreed to go and bring the bowl. He went out, carefully locking the door behind him.

As soon as he had gone, Robert, who still held the boy in his arms, whispered into his ear: “You are my friend. You would do something for me?”

The boy was all eagerness.

“Bring me some flowers tomorrow?”

“Yes, my lord … bigger, better flowers tomorrow.”

“And when you bring me more flowers, I shall take these which you have brought today, out of the bowl and give them to you.”

“But they are for you.”

“I would that you should take them to a lady.” The boy’s eyes were alert. “ To the Princess,” whispered Robert. “But you must tell no one … no one at all … not even your father. It must be thought that I give you a present of flowers, and so you in return give me one. No one must know that you are going to take a present from me to the Princess.”

The boy was puzzled, but he was concentrating with all his might. His one desire was to do what his hero wished.

“Remember! It is a great secret. No one must know. In the bunch of flowers I give you, there will be a letter. You must be careful that you do not drop it. And if no one is near when you give the flowers to the Princess you might say: ‘I bring these from Lord Robert!’ Could you say that?”

The boy nodded. “I bring these from Lord Robert,” he said.

“Then you will do this for me? Tomorrow … bring more flowers for me. I shall give you these which you brought today. It is a game we are playing because we are such friends. It is a present from me to the Princess … but a secret present, and none knows of it but my little ambassador. Do you understand?”

“Yes, my lord.”

Robert put his fingers to his lips and the boy nodded gleefully.

“And can you do this for me, my clever little friend?”

The boy nodded.

“Not a word,” said Robert. “Here comes your father. Remember. It is our secret—yours, mine, and the Princess’s.”

When the warder had returned, Robert marveled at his own fool-hardiness. What a reckless thing to do! For himself it was unimportant; he was under sentence of death. But what if he had involved the Princess in further trouble? He had trusted her life perhaps in the hands of a small boy.

But, he soothed himself, there was no political intrigue in this; he was not plotting rebellion or escape.

Moreover the plot was so simple. It could not fail. He sat down and wrote:

Dearest lady, My cell in this dreary prison has become brighter since you are close to me, grieved though I am by your misfortunes. If your walks should bring you past my cell and I might see you, that is the only boon I would ask before I die. This comes from one who has had the great joy of laughing with you, dancing with you, and would now find equal joy in a glimpse of your sweet face. From one who has never forgotten you, nor ever shall. R.D.

He hid the note in the posy, binding it fast; and eagerly he awaited the next day, wondering, as he had through the night, whether the child had been unable to keep the secret or if he would remember to bring fresh flowers on the next day.

As soon as the boy entered the cell with his father, this time bearing a larger bunch of flowers, Robert saw from the brightness of the boy’s eyes and the tightly pressed lips that he had not forgotten.

“You bring me a present,” said Robert. “Now I shall give you one.” He took the new bunch and pressed the old one into the child’s hands. Their eyes met and the boy’s were brimming over with excitement.

“God bless you,” said Robert.

“God bless my lord,” said the boy.

“I envy you this fine boy,” said Robert to the warder. “I … who have no sons … nor daughters either, for that matter.”

He thought with exasperation of Amy, waiting for him in the manor house which was their home—Amy who had saved him from marriage with the Lady Jane Grey and who now stood between him and he knew not what.

“Ah, he’s a bonny fellow,” said the father. “And he has brothers and sisters.”

“You are a lucky man.”

The warder shook his head, thinking of the splendors of the Dudleys which had ended so tragically and abruptly.

The little boy wandered out, tightly clutching the bunch of flowers.

A change had come over the Princess Elizabeth. There was fresh color in her cheeks, renewed sparkle in her eyes. It was obvious that she looked forward to her walks in the Tower garden.

She would smile and kiss the warder’s little boy who so often brought her flowers. She would pick him up in her arms and whisper to him, walking with him among the flower beds. Her attendants and the guards said: “She is very fond of children.” And it was touching to see the eager way in which she took the flowers which the child brought to her.

She had thrown off her melancholy. It was difficult to believe that her life was in danger and that none was more aware of that dismal fact than herself.

“Ah, my little one,” she would cry, on seeing the boy, “so you do not forget me then?”

“I would never forget you, Mistress,” he would say.

She would take his little hand and walk away from those who attended her; she wished to be alone in the gardens with her little friend.

“How is my lord?” she would whisper.

“He says that he is in wondrous health since he has had word from your Grace.”

“He looks for a letter from me, I doubt not?”

“Nay, Mistress. He says you must not write. I will tell him what you say.”

“You are a dear good child and I am fond of you.”

So she blossomed among the flowers and passed much time in her apartments—which otherwise would have been spent wearily—in remembering the charm of Robert Dudley, picturing what would happen if they met again.

Other children began to follow the warder’s little boy into the gardens. There was so much talk of the Princess, that they too wished to see her and to tell her how sorry they were that she was a captive.

There was the son of the Keeper of the Queen’s Robes, and little Susannah, the daughter of another warder, who came with the boy. They would run into the garden and stand before the Princess, who always had a word and smile for them; but little Will was her favorite.

There were many persons of importance who wished to show leniency toward the Princess. It was folly, said Bridges, the Lieutenant of the Tower, to offend more than need be, a lady of Elizabeth’s rank. One turn of Fortune’s wheel and she would be their Queen. He expressed his feelings thus in order to win support for them; for he himself was a kind man and the plight of the Princess had aroused his compassion. He swore to himself that while Elizabeth was in his charge she should have as much respect as he dared give her.

It was not long before the Princess was allowed to go where she wished within the precincts of the Tower; and thus it was that she saw Robert.

She knew that he was in a lower cell of the Beauchamp Tower, and that if she passed by he would be able, by looking through the bars of his window, to see her. On that first day of her new liberty, she curbed her impatience, but on the second she dressed herself with the utmost care and with her attendants about her and her guards nearby, she walked aimlessly in the direction of the Beauchamp Tower.

“Wait here,” she said to her attendants. “I would be alone for a while.”

The sympathetic guards allowed her to go on, but they begged her not to go from their sight or they would be forced to follow her.

She paused by the Beauchamp Tower and whispered: “Robert. Robert Dudley. Are you there?”

He was at the window looking through the bars.

“My … Princess!” he murmured.

He was pale through long confinement, but his pallor seemed but to enhance the beauty of that incomparable cast of features; the flesh had fallen away to disclose the fine contours of his face. How handsome he is! thought the Princess; and any man who admired her seemed to her charming.

“I cannot tarry long,” she murmured. “My guards are watching. Have a care.”

“You came … to see me! I shall remember it till I die.”

“Robert … what will they do to us?”

“Time will tell.”

“You do not care?”

“Life has to end sometime, sweet Princess. I have railed against my fate. But I am here and, because I am a prisoner, and you are a prisoner, I have shown you what is in my heart. How could Robert Dudley have said to a noble Princess what one prisoner could say to another?”

“You have been very bold,” she said with feigned severity.

“It is well, mayhap, that the walls of a prison separate us, for if they did not, how could I, dazzled by your beauty, control what might be unforgivable boldness?”

She pretended to contemplate the April sky, and her eyes seemed to take color from its blueness. She heard the call of the cuckoo from the distant meadows. Spring was in the air and in her heart; she could not think of death for herself at such a time. They were both so young. Prisoner as she was, this was one of the happiest moments of her life. She vowed there and then that she would never forget the man who had made it possible for her to be so happy in this grim prison.