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 UNKNOWN TO HISTOKY
 
 Poor scape-goat of crimes, where,— her part what it may, 
 
 So tortured, so hunted to die, 
 
 Foul age of deceit and of hate,— on her head 
 
 Least stains of gore-guiltiness lie ; 
 
 To the hearts of the just her blood from the dust 
 
 Not in vain for mercy will cry. 
 
 Poor scape-goat of nations and faiths in their strife 
 
 So cruel,— and thou so fair ! 
 
 Poor girl !— so, best, in her misery named, — 
 
 Discrown'd of two kingdoms, and bare ; 
 
 Not first nor last on this one was cast 
 
 The burden that others should share. 
 
 Visions of England, by F. T. Palgrave.
 
 UNKNOWN TO HISTOKY 
 
 A STOEY OF THE 
 CAPTIVITY OF MARY OF SCOTLAND 
 
 BY 
 
 CHARLOTTE M. YONGE 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 Honticm 
 
 MACMILLAN AND CO. 
 
 1882
 
 Printed by R. & R. Clark, Edinburgh.
 
 $£3 
 
 IT. I 
 
 PREFACE 
 
 In p. 58 of vol. ii. of the second edition of Miss 
 Strickland's Life of Mary Queen of Scots, or p. 100, 
 vol. v. of Burton's History of Scotland, will be found 
 the report on which this tale is founded. 
 
 If circumstances regarding the Queen's captivity 
 and Babington's plot have been found to be omitted, 
 as well as many interesting personages in the suite of 
 the captive Queen, it must be remembered that the 
 art of the story-teller makes it needful to curtail 
 t^ some of the incidents which would render the nar- 
 rative too complicated to be interesting to those who 
 wish more for a view of noted characters in remark- 
 able situations, than for a minute and accurate sifting 
 
 
 of facts and evidence. 
 
 C. M. YONGE. 
 
 February 27, 188i 

 
 CONTENTS OF VOL. I. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 PAfiE 
 
 The Little Waif 1 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 Evil Tidings 17 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 The Captive 33 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 The Oak and the Oaken Hall ' . . .46 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 The Huckstering Woman 61 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 The Bewitched Whistle 72
 
 V1U CONTEXTS. 
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The Blast of the Whistle 81 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 The Key of the Cipher 97 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 Unquiet 105 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 The Lady Arbell . . . . .118 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 Queen Mary's Presence Chamber . . . .126 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 A Furious Letter 141 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 Beads and Bracelets 153 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 The Monograms 165 
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 Mother and Child .178
 
 CONTENTS. ix 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The Peak Cavern 200 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 The Ebbing Well 222 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 Cis or Sister 243 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 The Clash of Swords . . . . . .256 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 Wingfield Manor 274 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 A Tangle 290 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 Tutbury . 302
 
 UNKNOWN TO HISTOKY. 
 
 CHAPTEE I. 
 
 THE LITTLE WAIF. 
 
 Ox a spring day, in the year 1568, Mistress Talbot sat 
 in lier lodging at Hull, an upper chamber, with a large 
 latticed window, glazed with the circle and diamond 
 leading perpetuated in Dutch pictures, and opening on 
 a carved balcony, whence, had she been so minded, she 
 could have shaken hands with her opposite neighbour. 
 There was a richly carved mantel-piece, with a sea-coal 
 fire burning in it, for though it was May, the sea 
 winds blew cold, and there was a fishy odour about 
 the town, such as it was well to counteract. The floor 
 was of slippery polished oak, the walls hung with 
 leather, gilded in some places and depending from 
 cornices, whose ornaments proved to an initiated eye, 
 that this had once been the refectory of a small priory, 
 or cell, broken up at the Eeformation. 
 
 Of furniture there was not much, only an open 
 cupboard, displaying two silver cups and tankards, a 
 sauce -pan of the same metal, a few tall, slender, 
 Venetian glasses, a little pewter, and some rare shells. 
 A few high -backed chairs were ranged against the 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 
 S
 
 2 UNKNOWN TO HISTOEY. [CHAP. 
 
 wall; there was a tall " armory/' i.e. a linen-press of dark 
 oak, guarded on each side by the twisted weapons of 
 the sea unicorn, and in the middle of the room stood 
 a large, solid-looking table, adorned with a brown 
 earthenware beau-pot, containing a stiff posy of roses, 
 southernwood, gillyflowers, pinks and pansies, of 
 small dimensions. On hooks, against the wall, hung a 
 pair of spurs, a shield, a breastplate, and other pieces 
 of armour, with an open helmet bearing the dog, the 
 well-known crest of the Talbots of the Shrewsbury line. 
 
 On the polished floor, near the window, were a 
 child's cart, a little boat, some whelks and limpets. 
 Their owner, a stout boy of three years old, in a tight, 
 borderless, round cap,and home-spun, madder-dyed frock, 
 lay fast asleep in a big wooden cradle, scarcely large 
 enough, however, to contain him, as he lay curled up, 
 sucking his thumb, and hugging to his breast the soft 
 fragment of a sea-bird's downy breast. If he stirred, his 
 mother's foot was on the rocker, as she sat spinning, 
 but her spindle danced languidly on the floor, as if 
 "feeble was her hand, and silly her thread;" while she 
 listened anxiously for every sound in the street below. 
 She wore a dark blue dress, with a small lace ruff 
 opening in front, deep cuffs to match, and a white apron 
 likewise edged with lace, and a coif, bent down in the 
 centre, over a sweet countenance, matronly, though 
 youthful, and now full of wistful expectancy, not 
 untinged with anxiety and sorrow. 
 
 Susan Hardwicke was a distant kinswoman of 
 the famous Bess of Hardwicke, and had formed one 
 of the little court of gentlewomen with whom great 
 ladies were wont to surround themselves. There she 
 met Eichard Talbot, the second son of a relative of the 
 Earl of Shrewsbury, a young man who, with the in-
 
 1.1 THE LITTLE WAIF. 3 
 
 difference of those days to service by land or sea, had 
 been at one time a gentleman pensioner of Queen 
 Mary ; at another had sailed under some of the great 
 mariners of the western main. There he had acquired 
 substance enough to make the offer of his hand to the 
 dowerless Susan no great imprudence ; and as neither 
 could be a subject for ambitious plans, no obstacle 
 was raised to their wedding. 
 
 He took his wife home to his old father's house in 
 the precincts of Sheffield Park, where she was kindly 
 welcomed ; but wealth did not so abound in the family 
 but that, when opportunity offered, he was thankful 
 to accept the command of the Mastiff, a vessel com- 
 missioned by Queen Elizabeth, but built, manned, and 
 maintained at the expense of the Earl of Shrewsbury. 
 It formed part of a small squadron which was cruising 
 on the eastern coast to watch over the intercourse 
 between France and Scotland, whether in the interest 
 of the imprisoned Mary, or of the Lords of the Congre- 
 gation. He had obtained lodgings for Mistress Susan 
 at Hull, so that he might be with her when he put 
 into harbour, and she was expecting him for the first 
 time since the loss of their second child, a daughter 
 whom he had scarcely seen during her little life of a 
 few months. 
 
 Moreover, there had been a sharp storm a few days 
 previously, and experience had not hardened her to 
 the anxieties of a sailor's wife. She had been down 
 once already to the quay, and learnt all that the old 
 sailors could tell her of chances and conjectures ; and 
 when her boy began to fret from hunger and weariness, 
 she had left her serving -man, Gervas, to watch for 
 further tidings. Yet, so does one trouble drive out 
 another, that whereas she had a few days ago dreaded
 
 4 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 the sorrow of his return, she would now have given 
 worlds to hear his step. 
 
 Hark, what is that in the street ? Oh, folly ! If 
 the Mastiff were in, would not Gervas have long ago 
 brought her the tidings ? Should she look over the bal- 
 cony only to be disappointed again ? Ah ! she had been 
 prudent, for the sounds were dying away. Nay, there 
 was a foot at the door ! Gervas with ill news ! No, 
 no, it bounded as never did Gervas's step ! It was 
 coming up. She started from the chair, quivering with 
 eagerness, as the door opened and in hurried her sun- 
 tanned sailor ! She was in his arms in a trance of 
 joy. That was all she knew for a moment, and then, 
 it was as if something else were given back to her. 
 No, it was not a dream ! It was substance. In her 
 arms was a little swaddled baby, in her ears its feeble 
 wail, mingled with the glad shout of little Humfrey, as 
 he scrambled from the cradle to be uplifted in his 
 father's arms. 
 
 "What is this?" she asked, gazing at the infant 
 between terror and tenderness, as its weak cry and 
 exhausted state forcibly recalled the last hours of her 
 own child. 
 
 " It is the only thing we could save from a wreck 
 off the Spurn," said her husband. " Scottish as I take 
 it. The rogues seem to have taken to their boats, 
 leaving behind them a poor woman and her child. I 
 trust they met their deserts and were swamped. We 
 saw the fluttering of her coats as we made for the 
 Humber, and I sent Goatley and Jaques in the boat 
 to see if anything lived. The poor wench was gone 
 before they could lift her up, but the little one 
 cried lustily, though it has waxen weaker since. We had 
 no milk on board, and could only give it bits of soft
 
 I.] THE LITTLE WAIF. 5 
 
 bread soaked in beer, and I misdoubt me whether it 
 did not all run out at the corners of its mouth." 
 
 This was interspersed with little Humfrey's eager 
 outcries that little sister was come again, and Mrs. 
 Talbot, the tears running down her cheeks, hastened to 
 summon her one woman-servant, Colet, to bring the 
 porringer of milk. 
 
 Captain Talbot had only hurried ashore to bring 
 the infant, and show himself to his wife. He was 
 forced instantly to return to the wharf, but he pro- 
 mised to come back as soon as he should have taken 
 order for his men, and for the Mastiff, which had 
 suffered considerably in the storm, and would need to 
 be refitted. 
 
 Colet hastily put a manchet of fresh bread, a pasty, 
 and a stoup of wine into a basket, and sent it by her 
 husband, Gervas, after their master ; and then eagerly 
 assisted her mistress in coaxing the infant to swallow 
 food, and in removing the soaked swaddling clothes 
 which the captain and his crew had not dared to 
 meddle with. 
 
 When Captain Talbot returned, as the rays of the 
 setting sun glanced high on the roofs and chimneys, 
 little Humfrey stood peeping through the tracery of 
 the balcony, watching for him, and shrieking with joy 
 at the first glimpse of the sea-bird's feather in his cap. 
 The spotless home-spun cloth and the trenchers were 
 laid for supper, a festive capon was prepared by the 
 choicest skill of Mistress Susan, and the little ship- 
 wrecked stranger lay fast asleep in the cradle. 
 
 All was well with it now, Mrs. Talbot said. Nothing 
 had ailed it but cold and hunger, and when it had 
 been fed, warmed, and dressed, it had fallen sweetly 
 asleep in her arms, appeasing her heartache for her
 
 6 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 own little Sue, while Humfrey Mly believed that 
 father had brought his little sister back again. 
 
 The child was in truth a girl, apparently three or 
 four months old. She had been rolled up in Mrs. 
 Talbot's baby's clothes, and her own long swaddling 
 bands hung over the back of a chair, where they had 
 been dried before the fire. They were of the finest 
 woollen below, and cambric above, and the outermost 
 were edged with lace, whose quality Mrs. Talbot esti- 
 mated very highly. 
 
 " See," she added, " what we found within. A 
 Popish relic, is it not ? Colet and Mistress Gale were 
 for making away with it at once, but it seemed to me 
 that it was a token whereby the poor babe's friends may 
 know her again, if she have any kindred not lost at sea." 
 
 The token was a small gold cross, of peculiar work- 
 manship, with a crystal in the middle, through which 
 might be seen some mysterious object neither husband 
 nor wife could make out, but which they agreed must 
 be carefully preserved for the identification of their 
 little waif. Mrs. Talbot also produced a strip of writing 
 which she had found sewn to the inmost band wrapped 
 round the little body, but it had no superscription, and 
 she believed it to be either French, Latin, or High 
 Dutch, for she could make nothing of it. Indeed, the 
 good lady's education had only included reading, writ- 
 ing, needlework and cookery, and she knew no language 
 but her own. Her husband had been taught Latin, 
 but his acquaintance with modern tongues was of 
 the nautical order, and entirely oral and vernacular. 
 However, it enabled him to aver that the letter — if 
 such it were — was neither Scottish, French, Spanish, 
 nor High or Low Dutch. He looked at it in all direc- 
 tions, and shook his head over it.
 
 l] the little waif. 7 
 
 "Who can read it for us?" asked Mrs. Talbot. 
 " Shall we ask Master Heatherthwayte ? he is a scholar, 
 and he said he would look in to see how you fared." 
 
 "At supper -time, I trow/' said Kichard, rather 
 grimly, " the smell of thy stew will bring him down 
 in good time." 
 
 " Nay, dear sir, I thought you would be fain to see 
 the good man, and he lives but poorly in his garret." 
 
 " Scarce while he hath good wives like thee to boil 
 his pot for him," said Richard, smiling. "Tell me, 
 hath he heard aught of this gear? thou hast not laid 
 this scroll before him ?" 
 
 "No, Colet brought it to me only now, having 
 found it when washing the swaddling-bands, stitched 
 into one of them." 
 
 " Then hark thee, good wife, not one word to him 
 of the writing." 
 
 " Might he not interpret it ?" 
 
 " Not he ! I must know more about it ere I let it 
 pass forth from mine hands, or any strange eye fall 
 upon it — Ha, in good time! I hear his step on the stair." 
 
 The captain hastily rolled up the scroll and put it 
 into his pouch, while Mistress Susan felt as if she had 
 made a mistake in her hospitality, yet almost as if her 
 husband were unjust towards the good man who had 
 been such a comfort to her in her sorrow; but there 
 was no lack of cordiality or courtesy in Pdchard's 
 manner when, after a short, quick knock, there en- 
 tered a figure in hat, cassock, gown, and bands, with a 
 pleasant, though grave countenance, the complexion 
 showing that it had been tanned and sunburnt in 
 early youth, although it wore later traces of a sedentary 
 student life, and, it might be, of less genial living than 
 had nourished the up-growthof that sturdily-built frame.
 
 8 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 Master Joseph Heatherthwayte was the greatly 
 underpaid curate of a small parish on the outskirts of 
 Hull. He contrived to live on some £10 per annum in 
 the attic of the house where the Talbots lodged, — and 
 not only to live, but to be full of charitable deeds, mostly 
 at the expense of his own appetite. The square cut of 
 his bands, and the uncompromising roundness of the hat 
 which he doffed on his entrance, marked him as inclined 
 to the Puritan party, which, being that of apparent pro- 
 gress, attracted most of the ardent spirits of the time. 
 
 Captain Talbot's inclinations did not lie that way, 
 but he respected and liked his fellow-lodger, and his 
 vexation had been merely the momentary disinclina- 
 tion of a man to be interrupted, especially on his first 
 evening at home. He responded heartily to Master 
 Heatherthwayte's warm pressure of the hand and 
 piously expressed congratulation on his safety, mixed 
 with condolence on the grief that had befallen him. 
 
 " And you have been a good friend to my poor 
 wife in her sorrow," said Eichard, "for the which I 
 thank you heartily, sir." 
 
 "Truly, sir, I could have been her scholar, with 
 such edifying resignation did she submit to the dis- 
 pensation," returned the clergyman, uttering these long 
 words in a broad northern accent which had nothing 
 incongruous in it to Eichard's ears, and taking advan- 
 tage of the lady's absence on " hospitable tasks intent " 
 to speak in her praise. 
 
 Little Humfrey, on his father's knee, comprehend- 
 ing that they were speaking of the recent sorrow, put 
 in his piece of information that " father had brought 
 little sister back from the sea." 
 
 " Ah, child !" said Master Heatherthwayte, in the 
 ponderous tone of one unused to children, "thou hast
 
 l] the little waif. 9 
 
 yet to learn the words of the holy David, ' I shall go 
 to him, but he shall not return to me.' " 
 
 " Bring not that thought forward, Master Heather- 
 thwayte," said Eichard, " I am well pleased that my 
 poor wife and this little lad can take the poor little 
 one as a solace sent them by God, as she assuredly is." 
 
 "Mean you, then, to adopt her into your family?" 
 asked the minister. 
 
 " We know not if she hath any kin," said Eichard, 
 and at that moment Susan entered, followed by the 
 man and maid, each bearing a portion of the meal, 
 which was consumed by the captain and the clergy- 
 man as thoroughly hungry men eat ; and there was 
 silence till the capon's bones were bare and two large 
 tankards had been filled with Xeres sack, captured in a 
 Spanish ship, " the only good thing that ever came 
 from Spain," quoth the sailor. 
 
 Then he began to tell how he had weathered the 
 storm on the Berwickshire coast; but he was inter- 
 rupted by another knock, followed by the entrance of 
 a small, pale, spare man, with the lightest possible 
 hair, very short, and almost invisible eyebrows ; he 
 had a round ruff round his neck, and a black, scholarly 
 "own, belted round his waist with a edrdle. in which 
 
 CD ' O ' 
 
 he carried writing tools. 
 
 " Ha, Cuthbert Langston, art thou there ? " said the 
 captain, rising. " Thou art kindly welcome. Sit down 
 and crush a cup of sack with Master Heatherthwayte 
 and me." 
 
 " Thanks, cousin," returned the visitor, " I heard 
 that the Mastiff was come in, and I came to see 
 whether all was well." 
 
 " It was kindly done, lad," said Eichard, while the 
 others did their part of the welcome, though scarcely
 
 10 UNKNOWN TO HISTOEY. [CHAP, 
 
 so willingly. Cuthbert Langston was a distant relation 
 on the mother's side of Eichard, a young scholar who, 
 after his education at Oxford, had gone abroad with a 
 nobleman's son as his pupil, and on his return, instead 
 of taking Holy Orders, as was expected, had obtained 
 employment in a merchant's counting-house at Hull, 
 for which his knowledge of languages eminently fitted 
 him. Though he possessed none of the noble blood of 
 the Talbots, the employment was thought by Mistress 
 Susan somewhat derogatory to the family dignity, and 
 there was a strong suspicion both in her mind and 
 that of Master Heather thwayte that his change of 
 purpose was due to the change of religion in England, 
 although he was a perfectly regular church-goer. 
 Captain Talbot, however, laughed at all this, and, 
 though he had not much in common with his kinsman, 
 always treated him in a cousinly fashion. He too had 
 heard a rumour of the foundling, and made inquiry for 
 it, upon which Eichard told his story in greater detail, 
 and his wife asked what the poor mother was like. 
 
 " I saw her not," he answered, " but Goatley 
 thought the poor woman to whom she was bound 
 more like to be nurse than mother, judging by her 
 years and her garments." 
 
 " The mother may have been washed off before," said 
 Susan, lifting the little one from the cradle, and hushing 
 it. " Weep not, poor babe, thou hast found a mother here." 
 
 " Saw you no sign of the crew ? " asked Master 
 Heatherthwayte. 
 
 " None at all. The vessel I knew of old as the 
 brig Bride of Duiibar, one of the craft that ply between 
 Dunbar and the French ports." 
 
 " And how think you ? Were none like to be saved? " 
 
 " I mean to ride along the coast to-morrow, to see
 
 J.] THE LITTLE WAIF. 11 
 
 whether aught can be heard of them, but even if their 
 boats could live in such a sea, they would have evil 
 hap among the wreckers if they came ashore. I would 
 not desire to be a shipwrecked man in these parts, and 
 if I had a Scottish -or a French tongue in my head so 
 much the worse for me." 
 
 " Ah, Master Heatherthwayte," said Susan, " should 
 not a man give up the sea when he is a husband and 
 father ? " 
 
 " Tush, dame ! With God's blessing the good ship 
 Mastiff will ride out many another such gale. Tell 
 thy mother, little Numpy, that an English sailor is 
 worth a dozen French or Scottish lubbers." 
 
 " Sir," said Master Heatherthwayte, " the pious trust 
 of the former part of your discourse is contradicted by 
 the boast of the latter end." 
 
 " Nay, Sir Minister, what doth a sailor put his trust 
 in but his God foremost, and then his good ship and 
 his brave men ?" 
 
 It should be observed that all the three men wore 
 their hats, and each made a reverent gesture of touch- 
 ing them. The clergyman seemed satisfied by the 
 answer, and presently added that it would be well, if 
 Master and Mistress Talbot meant to adopt the child, 
 that she should be baptized. 
 
 " How now ?" said Eichard, " we are not so near any 
 coast of Turks or Infidels that we should deem her 
 sprung of heathen folk." 
 
 "Assuredly not," said Cuthbert Langston, whose 
 quick, light-coloured eyes had spied the reliquary in 
 Mistress Susan's work-basket, " if this belongs to her. 
 By your leave, kinswoman," and he lifted it in his hand 
 with evident veneration, and began examining it. 
 
 " It is Babylonish gold, an accursed thing I " ex-
 
 12 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 claimed Master Heatherthwayte. " Beware, Master 
 Talbot, and cast it from thee." 
 
 " Nay," said Eichard, " that shall I not do. It may 
 lead to the discovery of the child's kindred. Why,, 
 my master, what harm think you it will do to us in 
 my dame's casket ? Or what right have we to make 
 away with the little one's property ?" 
 
 His common sense was equally far removed from 
 the horror of the one visitor as from the reverence of 
 the other, and so it pleased neither Master Langston 
 was the first to speak, observing that the relic made it 
 evident that the child must have been baptized. 
 
 " A Popish baptism," said Master Heatherthwayte, 
 " with chrism and taper and words and gestures to 
 destroy the pure simplicity of the sacrament." 
 
 Controversy here seemed to be setting in, and the 
 infant cause of it here setting up a cry, Susan escaped 
 under pretext of putting Humfrey to bed in the next 
 room, and carried off both the little ones. The con- 
 versation then fell upon the voyage, and the captain 
 described the impregnable aspect of the castle of 
 Dumbarton, which was held for Queen Mary by her 
 faithful partisan, Lord Flemyng. On this, Cuthbert 
 Langston asked whether he had heard any tidings of 
 the imprisoned Queen, and he answered that it was re- 
 ported at Leith that she had well-nigh escaped fromLoch- 
 leven, in the disguise of a lavender or washerwoman. 
 She was actually in the boat, and about to cross the lake, 
 when a rude oarsman attempted to pull aside her muffler, 
 and the whiteness of the hand she raised in self-protec- 
 tion betrayed her, so that she was carried back. " If she 
 had reached Dumbarton," he said, "she might have 
 mocked at the Lords of the Congregation. Nay, she 
 might have been in that very brig, whose wreck I beheld."
 
 I.] THE LITTLE WAIF. 13 
 
 " And well would it have been for Scotland and 
 England had it been the will of Heaven that so it 
 should fall out," observed the Puritan. 
 
 " Or it may be/' said the merchant, " that the poor 
 lady's escape was frustrated by Providence, that she 
 might be saved from the rocks of the Spurn." 
 
 " The poor lady, truly ! Say rather the murtheress," 
 quoth Heatherthwayte. 
 
 " Say rather the victim and scapegoat of other 
 men's plots," protested Langston. 
 
 " Come, come, sirs," says Talbot, " we'll have no 
 high words here on what Heaven only knoweth. Poor 
 lady she is, in all sooth, if sackless ; poorer still if 
 guilty ; so I know not what matter there is for falling 
 out about. In any sort, I will not have it at my 
 table." He spoke with the authority of the captain of a 
 ship, and the two visitors, scarce knowing it, submitted 
 to his decision of manner, but the harmony of the even- 
 ing seemed ended. Cuthbert Langston soon rose to bid 
 good-night, first asking his cousin at what hour he 
 proposed to set forth for the Spurn, to which Eichard 
 briefly replied that it depended on what had to be 
 done as to the repairs of the ship. 
 
 The clergyman tarried behind him to say, "Master Tal- 
 bot, I marvel that so godly a man as you have ever been 
 should be willing to harbour one so popishly affected, 
 and whom many suspect of being a seminary priest." 
 
 "Master Heatherthwayte," returned the captain, 
 iC my kinsman is my kinsman, and my house is my 
 house. No offence, sir, but I brook not meddling." 
 
 The clergyman protested that no offence was in- 
 tended, only caution, and betook himself to his own 
 bare chamber, high above. No sooner was he gone 
 than Captain Talbot again became absorbed in the
 
 14 
 
 UNKNOWN TO HISTOEY. 
 
 [CHAP. 
 
 endeavour to spell out the mystery of the scroll, with 
 his elbows on the table and his hands over his ears, nor 
 did he look up till he was touched by his wife, when 
 he uttered an impatient demand what she wanted now. 
 She had the little waif in her arms undressed, and 
 with only a woollen coverlet loosely wrapped round 
 her, and without speaking she pointed to the little 
 
 shoulder-blades, 
 
 where two marks- 
 
 had been indelibly made — on one side the crowned 
 monogram of the Blessed Virgin, on the other a device 
 
 like the Labarum, 
 
 * 
 x 
 
 only that the up- 
 
 right was surmounted by a fleur-de-lis. 
 
 Eicharcl Talbot gave a sort of perplexed grunt of 
 annoyance to acknowledge that he saw them. 
 
 " Poor little maid ! how could they be so cruel ? 
 They have been branded with a hot iron," said the 
 lady. 
 
 " They that parted from her meant to know her 
 again," returned Talbot. 
 
 " Surely they are Popish marks," added Mistress 
 Susan. 
 
 " Look you here, Dame Sue, I know you for a dis-
 
 £.] THE LITTLE WAIF. 15 
 
 creet woman. Keep this gear to yourself, "both the 
 letter and the marks. Who hath seen them ? " 
 
 " I doubt me whether even Colet has seen this mark." 
 
 " That is well. Keep all out of sight. Many a 
 man has been brought into trouble for a less matter 
 swelled by prating tongues." 
 
 " Have you made it out ? " 
 
 " Not I. It may be only the child's horoscope, or 
 some old wife's charm that is here sewn up, and these 
 marks may be naught but some sailor's freak ; but, on 
 the other hand, they may be concerned with perilous 
 matter, so the less said the better." 
 
 " Should they not be shown to my lord, or to her 
 Grace's Council ? " 
 
 " I'm not going to run my head into trouble for mak- 
 ing a coil about what may be naught. That's what 
 befell honest Mark Walton. He thought he had seized 
 matter of State, and went up to Master Walsingham, 
 swelling like an Indian turkey-cock, with his secret 
 letters, and behold they turned out to be a Dutch fish- 
 wife's charm to bring the herrings. I can tell you he 
 has rued the work he made about it ever since. On the 
 other hand, let it get abroad through yonder prating fel- 
 low, Heatherthwayte, or any other, that Master Eichard 
 Talbot had in his house a child with, I know not what 
 Popish tokens, and a scroll in an unknown tongue, and 
 I should be had up in gyves for suspicion of treason, 
 or may be harbouring the Prince of Scotland himself, 
 when it is only some poor Scottish archer's babe." 
 
 " You would not have me part with the poor little 
 one ? " 
 
 " Am I a Turk or a Pagan ? No. Only hold thy 
 peace, as I shall hold mine, until such time as I can 
 meet some one whom I can trust to read this riddle.
 
 16 UNKNOWN TO HISTOEY. [CHAP, 
 
 Tell me — what like is the child ? Wouldst guess it 
 to be of gentle, or of clownish blood, if women can tell 
 such things ? " 
 
 " Of gentle blood, assuredly," cried the lady, so that 
 he smiled and said, " I might have known that so thou 
 wouldst answer." 
 
 " Nay, but see her little hands and fingers, and the 
 mould of her dainty limbs. No Scottish fisher clown 
 was her father, I dare be sworn. Her skin is as fair 
 and fine as my Humfrey's, and moreover she has 
 always been in hands that knew how a babe should be 
 tended. Any woman can tell you that ! " 
 
 " And what like is she in your woman's eyes ? 
 What complexion doth she promise ? " 
 
 " Her hair, what she has of it, is dark ; her eyes — 
 bless them — are of a deep blue, or purple, such as 
 most babes have till they take their true tint. There 
 is no guessing. Humfrey's eyes were once like to be 
 brown, now are they as blue as thine own." 
 
 " I understand all that," said Captain Talbot, smil- 
 ing. " If she have kindred, they will know her better 
 by the sign manual on her tender flesh than by her face." 
 
 "And who are they?" 
 
 "Who are they?" echoed the captain, rolling up 
 the scroll in despair. " Here, take it, Susan, and keep 
 it safe from all eyes. Whatever it may be, it may 
 serve thereafter to prove her true name. And above 
 all, not a word or breath to Heatherthwayte, or any 
 of thy gossips, wear they coif or bands." 
 
 " Ah, sir ! that you will mistrust the good man." 
 
 " I said not I mistrust any one ; only that I will 
 have no word of all this go forth ! Not one ! Thou 
 heedest me, wife ? " 
 
 " Verily I do, sir ; I will be mute."
 
 II.] EVIL TIDINGS- 17 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 EVIL TIDINGS. 
 
 After giving orders for the repairs of the Mastiff, and 
 the disposal of her crew, Master Richard Talbot pur- 
 veyed himself of a horse at the hostel, and set forth 
 for Spurn Head to make inquiries along the coast 
 respecting the wreck of the Bride of Dunbar, and he was 
 joined by Cuthbert Langston, who said his house had 
 had dealings with her owners, and that he must ascer- 
 tain the fate of her wares. His good lady remained 
 in charge of the mysterious little waif, over whom her 
 tender heart yearned more and more, while her little 
 boy hovered about in serene contemplation of the 
 treasure he thought he had recovered. To him the 
 babe seemed really his little sister ; to his mother, if 
 she sometimes awakened pangs of keen regret, yet she 
 filled up much of the dreary void of the last few weeks. 
 
 Mrs. Talbot was a quiet, reserved woman, not prone 
 to gadding abroad, and she had made few acquaintances 
 during her sojourn at Hull; but every creature she 
 knew, or might have known, seemed to her to drop in 
 that day, and bring at least two friends to inspect the 
 orphan of the wreck, and demand all particulars. 
 
 The little girl was clad in the swaddling garments 
 of Mrs. Talbot's own children, and the mysterious 
 
 vol. i. c
 
 18 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 marks were suspected by no one, far less the letter 
 which Susan, for security's sake, had locked up in 
 her nearly empty, steel-bound, money casket. The 
 opinions of the gossips varied, some thinking the babe 
 might belong to some of the Queen of Scotland's party 
 fleeing to France, others fathering her on the refugees 
 from the persecutions in Flanders, a third party believ- 
 ing her a mere fisherman's child, and one lean, lantern- 
 jawed old crone, Mistress Eotherford, observing, " Take 
 my word, Mrs. Talbot, and keep her not with you. 
 They that are cast up by the sea never bring good 
 with them." 
 
 The court of female inquiry was still sitting when 
 a heavy tread was heard, and Colet announced "a 
 serving-man from Bridgefield had ridden post haste to 
 speak with madam," and the messenger, booted and 
 spurred, with the mastiff badge on his sleeve, and the 
 hat he held in his hand, followed closely. 
 
 "What news, Nathanael?" she asked, as she re- 
 sponded to his greeting. 
 
 " 111 enough news, mistress," was the answer. 
 " Master Eichard's ship be in, they tell me." 
 
 "Yea, but he is rid out to make inquiry for a 
 wreck," said the lady. "Is all well with my good 
 father-in-law ?" 
 
 " He ails less in body than in mind, so please you. 
 Being that Master Humfrey was thrown by Blackfoot, 
 the beast being scared by a flash of lightning, and 
 never spoke again." 
 
 " Master Humfrey !" 
 
 " Ay, mistress. Pitched on his head against the 
 south gate-post. I saw how it was with him when we 
 took him up, and he never so much as lifted an eyelid, 
 but died at the turn of the night. Heaven rest his soul I*
 
 il] evil tidings. 19 
 
 " Heaven rest his soul !" echoed Susan, and the 
 ladies around chimed in. They had come for one excite- 
 ment, and here was another. 
 
 • There ! See but what I said ! " quoth Mrs. 
 Botherford, uplifting a skinny finger to emphasise 
 that the poor little flotsome had already brought evil. 
 
 " Nay," said the portly wife of a merchant, " begging 
 your pardon, this may be a fat instead of a lean sorrow. 
 Leaves the poor gentleman heirs, Mrs. Talbot ? " 
 
 " Oh no !" said Susan, with tears in her eyes. " His 
 wife died two years back, and her chrisom babe with 
 her. He loved her too well to turn his mind to wed 
 again, and now he is with her for aye." And she 
 covered her face and sobbed, regardless of the congratu- 
 lations of the merchant's wife, and exclaiming, " Oh I 
 the poor old lady !" 
 
 " In sooth, mistress," said Nathanael, who had stood 
 all this time as if he had by no means emptied his 
 budget of ill news, " poor old madam fell down all of 
 a heap on the floor, and when the wenches lifted her, 
 they found she was stricken with the dead palsy, and 
 she has not spoken, and there's no one knows what to 
 do, for the poor old squire is like one distraught, sit- 
 ting by her bed like an image on a monument, with 
 the tears flowing down his old cheeks. ' But,' says he 
 to me, 'get you to Hull, Nat, and take madam's 
 palfrey and a couple of sumpter beasts, and bring my 
 good daughter Talbot back with you as fast as she and 
 the babes may brook.' I made bold to say, 'And 
 Master Eichard, your worship V then he groaned 
 somewhat, and said, ' If my son's ship be come in, he 
 must do as her Grace's service permits, but meantime 
 he must spare us his wife, for she is sorely needed 
 here.' And he looked at the bed so as it would break
 
 20 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 your heart to see, for since old Nurse Tooke hath been 
 doited, there's not been a wench about the house that 
 can do a hand's turn for a sick body." 
 
 Susan knew this was true, for her mother-in-law 
 had been one of those bustling, managing housewives, 
 who prefer doing everything themselves to training 
 others, and she was appalled at the idea of the prob- 
 able desolation and helplessness of the bereaved 
 household. 
 
 It was far too late to start that day, even had her 
 husband been at home, for the horses sent for her had 
 to rest. The visitors would fain have extracted some 
 more particulars about the old squire's age, his kindred 
 to the great Earl, and the amount of estate to which 
 her husband had become heir. There were those 
 among them who could not understand Susan's genuine 
 grief, and there were others whose consolations were no 
 less distressing to one of her reserved character. She 
 made brief answer that the squire was threescore and 
 fifteen years old, his wife nigh about his age ; that her 
 husband was now their only child ; that he was 
 descended from a son of the great Earl John, killed at 
 the Bridge of Chatillon; that he held the estate of 
 Bridgefield in fief on tenure of military service to the 
 head of his family. She did not know how much it 
 was worth by the year, but she must pray the good 
 ladies to excuse her, as she had many preparations to 
 make. Volunteers to assist her in packing her mails 
 were made, but she declined them all, and rejoiced 
 when left alone with Colet to arrange for what would 
 be probably her final departure from Hull. 
 
 It was a blow to find that she must part from her 
 servant- woman, who, as well as her husband Gervas, was 
 a native of Hull. Not only were they both unwilling
 
 II.] EVIL TIDINGS. 21 
 
 to leave, but the inland country was to their imagination 
 a wild unexplored desert. Indeed, Colet had only 
 entered Mrs. Talbot's service to supply the place of a 
 maid who had sickened with fever and ague, and had 
 to be sent back to her native Hallamshire. 
 
 Ere long Mr. Heatherthwayte came down to offer 
 his consolation, and still more his advice, that the little 
 foundling should be at once baptized — conditionally, if 
 the lady preferred it. 
 
 The Eeformed of imperfect theological training, and 
 as such Joseph Heatherthwayte must be classed, were 
 apt to view the ceremonial of the old baptismal form, 
 symbolical and beautiful as it was, as almost destroy- 
 ing the efficacy of the rite. Moreover, there was a 
 further impression that the Church by which the child 
 was baptized, had a right to bring it up, and thus the 
 clergyman was urgent with the lady that she should 
 seize this opportunity for the little one's baptism. 
 
 "Not without my husband's consent and know- 
 ledge," she said resolutely. 
 
 " Master Talbot is a good man, but somewhat care- 
 less of sound doctrine, as be the most of seafaring 
 men." 
 
 Susan had been a little nettled by her husband's 
 implied belief that she was influenced by the minister, 
 so there was double resolution, as well as some offence 
 in her reply, that she knew her duty as a wife too well 
 to consent to such a thing without him. As to his 
 being careless, he was a true and God-fearing man, and 
 Mr. Heatherthwayte should know better than to speak 
 thus of him to his wife. 
 
 Mr. Heatherthwayte's real piety and goodness had 
 made him a great comfort to Susan in her lonely grief, 
 but he had not the delicate tact of gentle blood, and
 
 22 UNKNOWN TO HISTOKY. [CHAP. 
 
 had not known where to stop, and as he stood half 
 apologising and half exhorting, she felt that her Bichard 
 was quite right, and that he could be both meddling 
 and presuming. He was exceedingly in the way of 
 her packing too, and she was at her wit's end to get rid 
 of him, when suddenly Humfrey managed to pinch his 
 fingers in a box, and set up such a yell, as, seconded by 
 the frightened baby, was more than any masculine ears 
 could endure, and drove Master Heatherthwayte to 
 beat a retreat. 
 
 Mistress Susan was well on in her work when her 
 husband returned, and as she expected, was greatly 
 overcome by the tidings of his brother's death. He 
 closely questioned Nathanael on every detail, and could 
 think of nothing but the happy days he had shared 
 with his brother, and of the grief of his parents. He 
 approved of all that his wife had done; and as the 
 damage sustained by the Mastiff could not be repaired 
 under a month, he had no doubt about leaving his crew 
 in the charge of his lieutenant while he took his family 
 home. 
 
 So busy were both, and so full of needful cares, the 
 one in giving up her lodging, the other in leaving his 
 men, that it was impossible to inquire into the result 
 of his researches, for the captain was in that mood of 
 suppressed grief and vehement haste in which irrele- 
 vant inquiry is perfectly unbearable. 
 
 It was not till late in the evening that Eichard 
 told his wife of his want of success in his investiga- 
 tions. He had found witnesses of the destruction of 
 the ship, but he did not give them full credit. " The 
 fellows say the ship drove on the rock, and that they 
 saw her boats go down with every soul on board, and 
 that they would not lie to an officer of her Grace.
 
 il] evil tidings. 23 
 
 Heaven pardon me if I do them injustice in believing 
 they would lie to him sooner than to any one else. 
 They are rogues enough to take good care that no poor 
 wretch should survive even if he did chance to come 
 to land." 
 
 " Then if there be no one to claim her, we may 
 bring up as our own the sweet babe whom Heaven 
 hath sent us." 
 
 " Not so fast, dame. Thou wert wont to be more 
 discreet. I said not so, but for the nonce, till I can 
 come by the rights of that scroll, there's no need to 
 make a coil. Let no one know of it, or of the trinket 
 — Thou hast them safe ? " 
 
 " Laid up with the Indian gold chain, thy wedding 
 gift, dear sir." 
 
 " 'Tis well. My mother ! — ah me," he added, 
 catching himself up; " little like is she to ask questions, 
 poor soul." 
 
 Then Susan diffidently told of Master Heather- 
 thwayte's earnest wish to christen the child, and, what 
 certainly biassed her a good deal, the suggestion that 
 this would secure her to their own religion. 
 
 " There is something in that," said Eichard, 
 " specially after what Cuthbert said as to the golden 
 toy yonder. If times changed again — which Heaven 
 forfend — that fellow might give us trouble about the 
 matter." 
 
 " You doubt him then, sir !" she asked. 
 
 " I relished not his ways on our ride to-day," said 
 Eichard. " Sure I am that he had some secret cause 
 for being so curious about the wreck. I suspect him 
 of some secret commerce with the Queen of Scots' folk." 
 
 " Yet you were on his side against Mr. Heather- 
 thwayte," said Susan.
 
 24 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 " I would not have my kinsman browbeaten at 
 mine own table by the self-conceited son of a dalesman, 
 even if lie have got a round hat and Geneva band I 
 Ah, well ! one good thing is we shall leave both of 
 them well behind us, though I would it were for 
 another cause." 
 
 Something in the remonstrance had, however, so 
 worked on Eichard Talbot, that before morning he 
 declared that, hap what hap, if he and his wife were to 
 bring up the child, she should be made a good Pro- 
 testant Christian before they left the house, and there 
 should be no more ado about it. 
 
 It was altogether illogical and untheological ; but 
 Master Heatherthwayte was delighted when in the 
 very early morning his devotions were interrupted, and 
 he was summoned by the captain himself to christen 
 the child. 
 
 Eichard and his wife were sponsors, but the ques- 
 tion of name had never occurred to any one. However, 
 in the pause of perplexity, when the response lagged 
 to " Name this child," little Humfrey, a delighted 
 spectator, broke out again with " Little Sis." 
 
 And forthwith, " Cicely, if thou art not already 
 baptized," was uttered over the child, and Cicely be- 
 came her name. It cost Susan a pang, as it had been 
 that of her own little daughter, but it was too late to 
 object, and she uttered no regret, but took the child to 
 her heart, as sent instead of her who had been taken 
 from her. 
 
 Master Heatherthwayte bade them good speed, and 
 Master Langston stood at the door of his office and 
 waved them a farewell, both alike unconscious of the 
 rejoicing with which they were left behind. Mistress 
 Talbot rode on the palfrey sent for her use, with the
 
 II.] EVIL TIDINGS. 25 
 
 little stranger slung to her neck for security's sake. 
 Her boy rode " a cock-horse " before his father, but 
 a resting-place was provided for him on a sort of 
 pannier on one of the sumpter beasts. What these 
 animals could not carry of the household stuff was left 
 in Colet's charge to be despatched by carriers ; and the 
 travellers jogged slowly on through deep Yorkshire 
 lanes, often halting to refresh the horses and supply 
 the wants of the little children at homely wayside inns, 
 their entrance usually garnished with an archway 
 formed of the jawbones of whales, which often served 
 for gate-posts in that eastern part of Yorkshire. And 
 thus they journeyed, with frequent halts, until they 
 came to the Derbyshire borders. 
 
 Bridgefield House stood on the top of a steep slope 
 leading to the river Dun, with a high arched bridge 
 and a mill below it. From the bridge proceeded one 
 of the magnificent avenues of oak-trees which led up 
 to the lordly lodge, full four miles off, right across 
 Sheffield Park. 
 
 The Bridgefield estate had "been a younger son's 
 portion, and its owners had always been regarded as 
 Lientlemen retainers of the head of their name, the Earl 
 of Shrewsbury. Tudor jealousy had forbidden the 
 marshalling of such a mein4 as the old feudal lords 
 had loved to assemble, and each generation of the 
 Bridgefield Talbots had become more independent than 
 the former one. The father had spent his younger 
 days as esquire to the late Earl, but had since become 
 a justice of the peace, and took rank with the substan- 
 tial landowners of the country. Humfrey, his eldest 
 son, had been a gentleman pensioner of the Queen till 
 Ms marriage, and Bichard, though beginning his career 
 as page to the present Earl's first wife, had likewise
 
 26 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 entered the service of her Majesty, though still it was 
 understood that the head of their name had a claim to 
 their immediate service, and had he been called to 
 take up arms, they would have been the first to follow 
 his banner. Indeed, a pair of spurs was all the annual 
 rent they paid for their estate, which they held on 
 this tenure, as well as on paying the heriard horse 
 on the death of the head of the family, and other con- 
 tributions to their lord's splendour when he knighted 
 his son or married his daughter. In fact, they stood 
 on the borderland of that feudal retainership which 
 was being rapidly extinguished. The estate, carved 
 out of the great Sheffield property, was sufficient to 
 maintain the owner in the dignities of an English 
 gentleman, and to portion off the daughters, provided 
 that the superfluous sons shifted for themselves, as 
 Eichard had hitherto done. The house had been 
 ruined in the time of the Wars of the Eoses, and re- 
 built in the later fashion, with a friendly-looking front, 
 containing two large windows, and a porch projecting 
 between them. The hall reached to the top of the 
 house, and had a waggon ceiling, with mastiffs alternat- 
 ing with roses on portcullises at the intersections of 
 the timbers. This was the family sitting and dining 
 room, and had a huge chimney never devoid of a wood 
 fire. One end had a buttery-hatch communicating 
 with the kitchen and offices ; at the other was a small 
 room, sacred to the master of the house, niched under 
 the broad staircase that led to the upper rooms, which 
 opened on a gallery running round three sides of the 
 hall. 
 
 Outside, on the southern side of the house, was a 
 garden of potherbs, with the green walks edged by a 
 few bright flowers for beau-pots and posies. This had
 
 il] evil tidings. 27 
 
 stone walls separating it from the paddock, which 
 sloped down to the river, and was a good deal broken 
 by ivy-covered rocks. Adjoining the stables were farm- 
 buildings and barns, for there were several fields for 
 tillage along the river -side, and the mill and two 
 more farms were the property of the Bridgefield squire, 
 so that the inheritance was a very fair one, wedged in, 
 as it were, between the river and the great Chase of 
 Sheffield, up whose stately avenue the riding party 
 looked as they crossed the bridge, Eichard having 
 become more silent than ever as he came among the 
 familiar rocks and trees of his boyhood, and knew he 
 should not meet that hearty welcome from his brother 
 which had never hitherto failed to greet his return. 
 The house had that strange air of forlornness which 
 seems to proclaim sorrow within. The great court 
 doors stood open, and a big, rough deer-hound, at the 
 sound of the approaching hoofs, rose slowly up, and 
 began a series of long, deep-mouthed barks, with pauses 
 between, sounding like a knell. One or two men and 
 maids ran out at the sound, and as the travellers rode 
 up to the horse-block, an old gray-bearded serving-man 
 came stumbling forth with " Oh ! Master Diccon, woe 
 worth the day !" 
 
 " How does my mother ? " asked Eichard, as he 
 sprang off and set his boy on his feet. 
 
 " No worse, sir, but she hath not yet spoken a word 
 — back, Thunder^ah ! sir, the poor dog knows you." 
 
 For the great hound had sprung up to Eichard in 
 eager greeting, but then, as soon as he heard his voice, 
 the creature drooped his ears and tail, and instead of 
 continuing his demonstrations of joy, stood quietly by, 
 only now and then poking his long, rough nose into 
 Eichard's hand, knowing as well as possible that
 
 28 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 though not his dear lost master, he was the next 
 thing ! 
 
 Mistress Susan and the infant were lifted down — 
 a hurried question and answer assured them that the 
 funeral was over yesterday. My Lady Countess had 
 come down and would have it so; my lord was at 
 Court, and Sir Gilbert and his brothers had been 
 present, but the old servants thought it hard that none 
 nearer in blood should be there to lay their young 
 squire in his grave, nor to support his father, who, 
 poor old man, had tottered, and been so like to swoon 
 as he passed the hall door, that Sir Gilbert and old 
 Diggory could but help him back again, fearing lest 
 he, too, might have a stroke. 
 
 It was a great grief to Eichard, who had longed to 
 look on his brother's face again, but he could say 
 nothing, only he gave one hand to his wife and the 
 other to his son, and led them into the hall, which was 
 in an indescribable state of confusion. The trestles 
 which had supported the coffin were still at one end of 
 the room, the long tables were still covered with cloths, 
 trenchers, knives, cups, and the remains of the funeral 
 baked meats, and there were overthrown tankards and 
 stains of wine on the cloth, as though, whatever else 
 were lacking, the Talbot retainers had not missed their 
 revel. 
 
 One of the dishevelled rough-looking maidens began 
 some hurried muttering about being so distraught, and 
 not looking for madam so early, but Susan could not 
 listen to her, and merely putting the babe into her 
 arms, came with her husband up the stairs, leaving 
 little Humfrey with Nathanael. 
 
 Eichard knocked at the bedroom door, and, receiving 
 no answer, opened it. There in the tapestry -hung
 
 II.] EVIL TIDINGS. 29 
 
 chamber was the huge old bedstead with its solid posts. 
 In it lay something motionless, but the first thing 
 the husband and wife saw was the bent head which 
 was lifted up by the burly but broken figure in the 
 chair beside it. 
 
 The two knotted old hands clasped the arms of the 
 chair, and the squire prepared to rise, his lip trembling 
 under his white beard, and emotion working in his 
 dejected features. They were beforehand with him. 
 Ere he could rise both were on their knees before him, 
 while Richard in a broken voice cried, "Father, 
 father !" 
 
 " Thank God that thou art come, my son," said the 
 old man, laying his hands on his shoulders, with a 
 gleam of joy, for as they afterwards knew, he had 
 sorely feared for Richard's ship in the storm that had 
 caused Humfrey's death. " I looked for thee, my 
 daughter," he added, stretching out one hand to Susan, 
 who kissed it. " Now it may go better with her ! 
 Speak to thy mother, Richard, she may know thy 
 voice." 
 
 Alas ! no ; the recently active, ready old lady was 
 utterly stricken, and as yet held in the deadly grasp 
 of paralysis, unconscious of all that passed around her, 
 
 Susan found herself obliged at once to take up 
 the reins, and become head nurse and housekeeper. 
 The old squire trusted implicitly to her, and helplessly 
 put the keys into her hands, and the serving-men and 
 maids, in some shame at the condition in which the 
 hall had been found, bestirred themselves to set it in 
 order, so that there was a chance of the ordinary appear- 
 ance of things being restored by supper-time, when 
 Richard hoped to persuade his father to come down to 
 his usual place.
 
 30 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 Long before this, however, a trampling had been 
 heard in the court, and a shrill voice, well known to 
 Eichard and Susan, was heard demanding, " Come home, 
 is she — Master Diccon too ? More shame for you, 
 you sluttish queans and lazy lubbers, never to have let 
 me know ; but none of you have any respect " 
 
 A visit from my Lady Countess was a greater 
 favour to such a household as that of Bridgefield than 
 it would be to a cottage of the present day ; Eichard 
 was hurrying downstairs, and Susan only tarried to 
 throw off the housewifely apron in which she had been 
 compounding a cooling drink for the poor old lady, 
 and to wash her hands, while Humfrey, rushing up to 
 her, exclaimed " Mother, mother, is it the Queen ? " 
 
 Queen Elizabeth herself was not inaptly represented 
 by her namesake of Hardwicke, the Queen of Hallam- 
 shire, sitting on her great white mule at the door, 
 sideways, with her feet on a board, as little children 
 now ride, and attended by a whole troop of gentlemen 
 ushers, maidens, prickers, and running footmen. She 
 was a woman of the same type as the Queen, which 
 was of course enough to stamp her as a celebrated 
 beauty, and though she had reached middle age, her 
 pale, clear complexion and delicate features were well 
 preserved. Her chin was too sharp, and there was 
 something too thin and keen about her nose and lips 
 to promise good temper. She was small of stature, 
 but she made up for it in dignity of presence, and as she 
 sat there, with her rich embroidered green satin farthin- 
 gale spreading out over the mule, her tall ruff standing 
 up fanlike on her shoulders, her riding -rod in her 
 hand, and her master of the horse standing at her rein, 
 while a gentleman usher wielded an enormous, long- 
 handled, green fan, to keep the sun from incommoding
 
 II.] EVIL TIDINGS. 31 
 
 her, she was, perhaps, even more magnificent than the 
 maiden queen herself might have been in her more 
 private expeditions. Indeed, she was new to her 
 dignity as Conntess, having been only a few weeks 
 married to the Earl, her fourth husband. Captain 
 Talbot did not feel it derogatory to his dignity as a 
 gentleman to advance with his hat in his hand to kiss 
 her hand, and put a knee to the ground as he invited 
 her to alight, an invitation his wife heard with dismay 
 as she reached the door, for things were by no means 
 yet as they should be in the hall. She curtsied low, and 
 advanced with her son holding her hand, but shrinking 
 behind her. 
 
 "Ha, kinswoman, is it thou !" was her greeting, as 
 she, too, kissed the small, shapely, white, but exceed- 
 ingly strong hand that was extended to her ; " So thou 
 art come, and high time too. Thou shouldst never 
 have gone a -gadding to Hull, living in lodgings ; 
 awaiting thine husband, forsooth. Thou art over 
 young a matron for such gear, and so I told Diccon 
 Talbot long ago." 
 
 " Yea, madam," said Eichard, somewhat hotly, 
 " and I made answer that my Susan was to be trusted, 
 and truly no harm has come thereof." 
 
 " Ho ! and you reckon it no harm that thy father 
 and mother were left to a set of feckless, brainless, idle 
 serving-men and maids in their trouble ? Why, none 
 would so much as have seen to thy brother's poor 
 body being laid in a decent grave had not I been at 
 hand to take order for it as became a distant kinsman 
 of my lord. I tell thee, Eichard, there must be no 
 more of these vagabond seafaring ways. Thou must 
 serve my lord, as a true retainer and kinsman is bound 
 — Nay," in reply to a gesture, " I will not come in, I
 
 32 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 know too well in what ill order the house is like to 
 be. I did but take my ride this way to ask how it 
 fared with the mistress', and try if I could shake the 
 squire from his lethargy, if Mrs. Susan had not had 
 the grace yet to be here. How do they ? " Then in 
 answer, " Thou must waken him, Diccon — rouse him, 
 and tell him that I and my lord expect it of him that 
 he should bear his loss as a true and honest Christian 
 man, and not pule and moan, since he has a son left — 
 ay, and a grandson. You should breed your boy up 
 to know his manners, Susan Talbot," as Humfrey re- 
 sisted an attempt to make him do his reverence to my 
 lady ; " that stout knave of yours wants the rod. 
 Methought I heard you'd borne another, Susan ! Ay ! 
 as I said it would be," as her eye fell on the swaddled 
 babe in a maid's arms. " No lack of fools to eat up 
 the poor old squire's substance. A maid, is it ? Be- 
 shrew me, if your voyages will find portions for all 
 your wenches ! Has the leech let blood to thy good- 
 mother, Susan ? There ! not one amongst you all 
 bears any brains. Knew you not how to send up to 
 the castle for Master Drewitt ? Farewell ! Thou 
 wilt be at the lodge to-morrow to let me know how it 
 fares with thy mother, when her brain is cleared by 
 further blood-letting. And for the squire, let him 
 know that I expect it of him that he shall eat, and 
 show himself a man !" 
 
 So saying, the great lady departed, escorted as far 
 as the avenue gate by Eichard Talbot, and leaving the 
 family gratified by her condescension, and not allowing 
 to themselves how much their feelings were chafed.
 
 III.] THE CAPTIVE, 33 
 
 CHAPTEK III. 
 
 THE CAPTIVE. 
 
 Death and sorrow seemed to Lave marked the house 
 of Bridgefielcl, for the old lady never rallied after the 
 blood-letting enjoined by the Countess's medical science, 
 and her husband, though for some months able to 
 creep about the house, and even sometimes to visit the 
 fields, had lost his memory, and became more childish 
 week by week. 
 
 Pichard Talbot was obliged to return to his ship at 
 the end of the month, but as soon as she was laid up 
 for the winter he resigned his command, and returned 
 home, where he was needed to assume the part of 
 master. In truth he became actually master before 
 the next spring, for his father took to his bed with 
 the first winter frosts, and in spite of the duteous 
 cares lavished upon him by his son and daughter-in- 
 law, passed from his bed to his grave at the Christmas 
 feast. Richard Talbot inherited house and lands, with 
 the undefined sense of feudal obligation to the head of 
 his name, and ere long he was called upon to fulfil 
 those obligations by service to his lord. 
 
 There had been another act in the great Scottish 
 tragedy. Queen Mary had effected her escape from 
 Lochleven, but only to be at once defeated, and then to 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 34 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 cross the Solway and throw herself into the hands of 
 the English Queen. 
 
 Bolton Castle had been proved to be too perilously 
 near the Border to serve as her residence, and the 
 inquiry at York, and afterwards at Westminster, having 
 proved unsatisfactory, Elizabeth had decided on detain- 
 ing her in the kingdom, and committed her to the 
 charge of the Earl of Shrewsbury. 
 
 To go into the history of that ill-managed investi- 
 gation is not the purpose of this tale. It is probable 
 that Elizabeth believed her cousin guilty, and wished 
 to shield that guilt from being proclaimed, while her 
 councillors, in their dread of the captive, wished to 
 enhance the crime in Elizabeth's eyes, and were by no 
 means scrupulous as to the kind of evidence they 
 adduced. However, this lies outside our story; all 
 that concerns it is that Lord Shrewsbury sent a sum- 
 mons to his trusty and well-beloved cousin, Bichard 
 Talbot of Bridgefield, to come and form part of the 
 guard of honour which was to escort the Queen of 
 Scots to Tutbury Castle, and there attend upon her. 
 
 All this time no hint had been given that the little 
 Cicely was of alien blood. The old squire and his 
 lady had been in no state to hear of the death of their 
 own grandchild, or of the adoption of the orphan, and 
 Susan was too reserved a woman to speak needlessly of 
 her griefs to one so unsympathising as the Countess or so 
 flighty as the daughters at the great house. The men 
 who had brought the summons to Hull had not been 
 lodged in the house, but at an inn, where they either 
 had heard nothing of Master Bichard's adventure or had 
 drowned their memory in ale, for they said nothing - r 
 and thus, without any formed intention of secrecy,, 
 the child's parentage had never come into question.
 
 III.] THE CAPTIVE. 35 
 
 Indeed, though without doubt Mrs. Talbot was 
 very loyal in heart to her noble kinsfolk, it is not 
 to be denied that she was a good deal more at peace 
 when they were not at the lodge. She tried devoutly 
 to follow out the directions of my Lady Countess, and 
 thought herself hi fault when things went amiss, but 
 she prospered far more when free from such dictation. 
 
 She had nothing to wish except that her husband 
 could be more often at home, but it was better to have 
 him only a few hours' ride from her, at Chatsworth or 
 Tutbury, than to know him exposed to the perils of 
 the sea. He rode over as often as he could be spared, 
 to see his family and look after his property ; but his 
 attendance was close, and my Lord and my Lady were 
 exacting with one whom they could thoroughly trust, 
 and it was well that in her quiet way Mistress Susan 
 proved capable of ruling men and maids, farm and 
 stable as well as house, servants and children, to whom 
 another boy was added in the course of the year after 
 her return to Briclgefield. 
 
 In the autumn, notice was sent that the Queen of 
 Scots was to be lodged at Sheffield, and long trains of 
 waggons and sumpter horses and mules began to arrive, 
 1 wringing her plenishing and household stuff in advance. 
 Servants without number were sent on, both by her 
 and by the Earl, to make preparations, and on a 
 November day, tidings came that the arrival might 
 be expected in the afternoon. Commands were sent 
 that the inhabitants of the little town at the park 
 gate should keep within doors, and not come forth 
 to give any show of welcome to their lord and lady, 
 lest it should be taken as homage to the captive 
 queen; but at the Manor-house there was a little 
 family gathering to hail the Earl and Countess. It
 
 36 UNKNOWN TO HISTOEY. [CHAP. 
 
 chiefly consisted of ladies with their children, the 
 husbands of most being in the suite of the Earl acting 
 as escort or guard to the Queen. Susan Talbot, being 
 akin to the family on both sides, was there with the 
 two elder children ; Humfrey, both that he might 
 greet his father the sooner, and that he might be able 
 to remember the memorable arrival of the captive 
 queen, and Cicely, because he had clamoured loudly 
 for her company. Lady Talbot, of the Herbert blood, 
 wife to the heir, was present with two young sisters- 
 in-law, Lady Grace, daughter to the Earl, and Mary, 
 daughter to the Countess, who had been respectively 
 married to Sir Henry Cavendish and Sir Gilbert Tal- 
 bot, a few weeks before their respective parents were 
 wedded, when the brides were only twelve and fourteen 
 years old. There, too, was Mrs. Babington of Dethick, 
 the recent widow of a kinsman of Lord Shrewsbury, to 
 whom had been granted the wardship of her son, and 
 the little party waiting in the hall also numbered 
 Elizabeth and William Cavendish, the Countess's 
 youngest children, and many dependants mustered in 
 the background, ready for the reception. Indeed, the 
 castle and manor-house, with their offices, lodges, and 
 outbuildings, were an absolute little city in themselves. 
 The castle was still kept in perfect repair, for the 
 battle of Bosworth was not quite beyond the memory 
 of living men's fathers ; and besides, who could tell 
 whether any day England might not have to be con- 
 tested inch by inch with the Spaniard ? So the 
 gray walls stood on the tongue of land in the valley, 
 formed by the junction of the rivers Sheaf and Dun, 
 with towers at all the gateways, enclosing a space of 
 no less than eight acres, and with the actual fortress, 
 crisp, strong, hard, and unmouldered in the midst, its
 
 III.] THE CAPTIVE. 37 
 
 tallest square tower serving as a look-out place for 
 those who watched to give the first intimation of the 
 arrival. 
 
 The castle had its population, but chiefly of grooms, 
 warders, and their families. The state-rooms high up 
 in that square tower were so exceedingly confined, 
 so stern and grim, that the grandfather of the pre- 
 sent earl had built a manor-house for his family 
 residence on the sloping ground on the farther side of 
 the Dun. 
 
 This house, built of stone, timber, and brick, with 
 two large courts, two gardens, and three yards, covered 
 nearly as much space as the castle itself. A pleasant, 
 smooth, grass lawn lay in front, and on it converged 
 the avenues of oaks and walnuts, stretching towards 
 the gates of the park, narrowing to the eye into single 
 lines, then going absolutely out of sight, and the sea of 
 foliage presenting the utmost variety of beautiful tints 
 of orange, yellow, brown, and red. There was a great 
 gateway between two new octagon towers of red brick, 
 with battlements and dressings of stone, and from this 
 porch a staircase led upwards to the great stone-paved 
 hall, with a huge fire burning on the open hearth. 
 Around it had gathered the ladies of the Talbot 
 family waiting for the reception. The warder on the 
 tower had blown his horn as a signal that the master 
 and his royal guest were within the park, and the 
 banner of the Talbots had been raised to announce 
 their coming, but nearly half an hour must pass while 
 the party came along the avenue from the drawbridge 
 over the Sheaf ere they could arrive at the lodge. 
 
 So the ladies, in full state dresses, hovered over the 
 fire, while the children played in the window seat near 
 at hand.
 
 38 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 Gilbert Talbot's wife, a thin, yellow-haired, young 
 creature, promising to be like her mother, the Countess, 
 had a tongue which loved to run, and with the preco- 
 city and importance of wifehood at sixteen, she dilated 
 to her companions on her mother's constant attendance 
 on the Queen, and the perpetual plots for that lady's 
 escape. " She is as shifty and active as any cat-a- 
 mount ; and at Chatsworth she had a scheme for being 
 off out of her bedchamber window to meet a traitor 
 fellow named Eoll ; but my husband smelt it out in 
 good time, and had the guard beneath my lady's 
 window, and the fellows are in gyves, and to see the 
 lady the day it was found out ! Not a wry face did 
 she make. Oh no ! 'Twas all my good lord, and my 
 sweet sir with her. I promise you butter would not 
 melt in her mouth, for my Lord Treasurer Cecil hath 
 been to see her, and he has promised to bring her to 
 speech of her Majesty. May I be there to see. I pro- 
 mise you 'twill be diamond cut diamond between them." 
 
 "How did she and my Lord Treasurer fare to- 
 gether ?" asked Mrs. Babington. 
 
 " Well, you know there's not a man of them all that 
 is proof against her blandishments. Her Majesty 
 should have women warders for her. 'Twas good 
 sport to see the furrows in his old brow smoothing out 
 against his will as it were, while she plied him with 
 her tongue. I never saw the Queen herself win such a 
 smile as came on his lips, but then he is always a sort 
 of master, or tutor, as it were, to the Queen. Ay," on 
 some exclamation from Lady Talbot, " she heeds him 
 like no one else. She may fling out, and run counter 
 to him for the very pleasure of feeling that she has 
 the power, but she will come round at last, and 'tis 
 his will that is done in the long run. If this lady
 
 III.] THE CAPTIVE. 39 
 
 coiild beguile him indeed, she might be a free woman 
 in the end." 
 
 "And think you that she did ?" 
 
 " Not she ! The Lord Treasurer is too long-headed, 
 and has too strong a hate to all Papistry, to be beguiled 
 more than for the very moment he was before her. He 
 cannot help the being a man, you see, and they are all 
 alike when once in her presence — your lord and father, 
 like the rest of them, sister Grace. Mark me if there 
 be not tempests brewing, an we be not the sooner rid 
 of this guest of ours. My mother is not the woman 
 to bear it long." 
 
 Dame Mary's tongue was apt to run on too fast, 
 and Lady Talbot interrupted its career with an amused 
 gesture towards the children. 
 
 For the little Cis, babe as she was, had all the three 
 boys at her service. Humfrey, with a paternal air, was 
 holding her on the window-seat ; Antony Babington 
 was standing to receive the ball that was being tossed 
 to and fro between them, but as she never caught it, 
 Will Cavendish was content to pick it up every time 
 and return it to her, appearing amply rewarded by her 
 laugh of delight. 
 
 The two mothers could not but laugh, and Mrs. 
 Babington said the brave lads were learning their 
 knightly courtesy early, while Mary Talbot began 
 observing on the want of likeness between Cis and 
 either the Talbot or Hardwicke race. The little girl 
 was much darker in colouring than any of the boys, and 
 had a pair of black, dark, heavy brows, that prevented 
 her from being a pretty child. Her adopted mother 
 shrank from such observations, and was rejoiced that a 
 winding of horns, and a shout from the boys, announced 
 that the expected arrival was about to take place. The
 
 40 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP 
 
 ladies darted to the window, and beholding the avenue 
 full of horsemen and horsewomen, their accoutrements 
 and those of their escort gleaming in the sun, each 
 mother gathered her own chicks to herself, smoothed 
 the plumage somewhat ruffled by sport, and advanced 
 to the head of the stone steps, William Cavendish, the 
 eldest of the boys, being sent down to take his step- 
 father's rein and hold his stirrup, page fashion. 
 
 Clattering and jingling the troop arrived. The 
 Earl, a stout, square man, with a long narrow face, 
 lengthened out farther by a light-coloured, silky beard, 
 which fell below his ruff, descended from his steed, 
 cjave his hat to Eicharcl Talbot, and handed from her 
 horse a hooded and veiled lady of slender proportions, 
 who leant on his arm as she ascended the steps. 
 
 The ladies knelt, whether in respect to the heads of 
 the family, or to the royal guest, may be doubtful. 
 
 The Queen came up the stairs with rheumatic steps, 
 declaring, however, as she did so, that she felt the 
 better for her ride, and was less fatigued than when 
 she set forth. She had the soft, low, sweet Scottish 
 voice, and a thorough Scottish accent and language, 
 tempered, however, by French tones, and as, coming 
 into the warmer air of the hall, she withdrew her 
 veil, her countenance was seen. Mary Stuart was 
 only thirty-one at this time, and her face was still 
 youthful, though worn and wearied, and bearing tokens 
 of illness. The features were far from being regularly 
 beautiful; there was a decided cast in one of the 
 eyes, and in spite of all that Mary Talbot's detracting 
 tongue had said, Susan's first impression was dis- 
 appointment. But, as the Queen greeted the lady 
 whom she already knew, and the Earl presented his 
 daughter, Lady Grace, his stepdaughter, Elizabeth
 
 III.] THE CAPTIVE. 41 
 
 Cavendish, and his kinswoman, Mistress Susan Talbot, 
 the extraordinary magic of her eye and lip beamed on 
 them, t)ie queenly grace and dignity joined with a 
 wonderful sweetness impressed them all, and each in 
 measure felt the fascination. 
 
 The Earl led the Queen to the fire to obtain a little 
 warmth before mounting the stairs to her own apart- 
 ments, and likewise while Lady Shrewsbury was dis- 
 mounting, and being handed up the stairs by her second 
 stepson, Gilbert. The ladies likewise knelt on one 
 knee to greet this mighty dame, and the children 
 ■should have done so too, but little Cis, catching sight 
 of Captain Richard, who had come up bearing the 
 Earl's hat, in immediate attendance on him, broke out 
 with an exulting cry of "Eather! father! father!" 
 trotted with outspread arms right in front of the royal 
 lady, embraced the booted leg in ecstasy, and then 
 stretching out, exclaimed "Up ! up !" 
 
 " How now, malapert poppet ! " exclaimed the 
 Countess, and though at some distance, uplifted her 
 riding-rod. Susan was ready to sink into the earth 
 with confusion at the great lady's displeasure, but 
 Richard had stooped and lifted the little maid in his 
 arms, while Queen Mary turned, her face lit up as by 
 a sunbeam, and said, " Ah, bonnibell, art thou fain 
 to see thy father? Wilt thou give me one of thy 
 kisses, sweet bairnie ?" and as Richard held her up to 
 the kind face, " A goodly child, brave sir. Thou must 
 let me have her at times for a playfellow. Wilt come 
 and comfort a poor prisoner, little sweeting ?" 
 
 The child responded with " Poor poor," stroking the 
 soft delicate cheek, but the Countess interfered, still 
 wrathful. " Master Richard, I marvel that you should 
 let her Grace be beset by a child, who, if she cannot
 
 42 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 demean herself decorously, should have been left at 
 home. Susan Hardwicke, I thought I had schooled 
 you better." 
 
 "Nay, madam, may not a babe's gentle deed of 
 pity be pardoned ?" said Mary. 
 
 " Oh ! if it pleasures you, madam, so be it," said 
 Lady Shrewsbury, deferentially ; " but there be children 
 here more worthy of your notice than yonder little 
 black-browed wench, who hath been allowed to thrust 
 herself forward, while others have been kept back 
 from importuning your Grace." 
 
 " No child can importune a mother who is cut off 
 from her own," said Mary, eager to make up for the 
 jealousy she had excited. " Is this bonnie laddie yours, 
 madam ? Ah ! I should have known it by the 
 resemblance." 
 
 She held her white hand to receive the kisses of 
 the boys : William Cavendish, under his mother's eye, 
 knelt obediently ; Antony Babington, a fair, pretty lad, 
 of eight or nine, of a beautiful pink and white com- 
 plexion, pressed forward with an eager devotion which 
 made the Queen smile and press her delicate hand on 
 his curled locks ; as for Hunrfrey, he retreated behind 
 the shelter of his mother's farthingale, where his 
 presence was forgotten by every one else, and, after 
 the rebuff just administered to Cicely, there was no 
 inclination to bring him to light, or combat with his 
 bashfulness. 
 
 The introductions over, Mary gave her hand to the 
 Earl to be conducted from the hall up the broad stair- 
 case, and along the great western gallery to the south 
 front, where for many days her properties had been in 
 course of being arranged. 
 
 Lady Shrewsbury followed as mistress of the house,
 
 III.] THE CAPTIVE. 43 
 
 and behind, in order of precedence, came the Scottish 
 Queen's household, in which the dark, keen features of 
 the French, and the rufous hues of the Scots, were 
 nearly equally divided. Lady Livingstone and Mistress 
 Seaton, two of the Queen's Maries of the same age 
 with herself, came next, the one led by Lord Talbot, 
 the other by Lord Livingstone. There was also the 
 faithful French Marie de Courcelles, paired with Master 
 Beatoun, comptroller of the household, and Jean 
 Kennedy, a stiff Scotswoman, whose hard outlines 
 did not do justice to her tenderness and fidelity, and 
 with her was a tall, active, keen-faced stripling, looked 
 on with special suspicion by the English, as Willie 
 Douglas, the contriver of the Queen's flight from Loch- 
 leven. Two secretaries, French and Scottish, were 
 shrewdly suspected of being priests, and there were 
 besides, a physician, surgeon, apothecary, with per- 
 fumers, cooks, pantlers, scullions, lacqueys, to the 
 number of thirty, besides their wives and attendants, 
 these last being " permitted of my lord's benevolence." 
 
 They were all eyed askance by the sturdy, north 
 country English, who naturally hated all strangers, 
 above all French and Scotch, and viewed the band of 
 captives much like a caged herd of wild beasts. 
 
 When on the way home Mistress Susan asked her 
 little boy why he would not make his obeisance to the 
 pretty lady, he sturdily answered, " She is no pretty 
 lady of mine. She is an evil woman who slew her 
 husband." 
 
 " Poor lady ! tongues have been busy with her," said 
 his father. 
 
 " How, sir ?" asked Susan, amazed, " do you think 
 her guiltless in the matter?" 
 
 " I cannot tell," returned Pdchard. " All I know is
 
 44 UNKNOWN TO HISTOEY. [CHAP. 
 
 that many who have no mercy on her would change 
 their minds if they beheld her patient and kindly 
 demeanonr to all." 
 
 This was a sort of shock to Susan, as it seemed to 
 her to prove the truth of little Lady Talbot's words, 
 that no one was proof against Queen Mary's wiles ; 
 but she was happy in having her husband at home 
 once more, though, as he told her, he would be occu- 
 pied most of each alternate day at Sheffield, he and 
 another relation having been appointed "gentlemen 
 porters," which meant that they were to wait in a 
 chamber at the foot of the stairs, and keep watch over 
 whatever went in or out of the apartments of the 
 captive and her suite. 
 
 " And," said Eichard, " who think you came to see 
 me at Wingfield ? None other than Cuthbert Lang- 
 ston." 
 
 " Hath he left his merchandise at Hull ? " 
 
 " Ay, so he saith. He would fain have had my 
 good word to my lord for a post in the household, as 
 comptroller of accounts, clerk, or the like. It seemed 
 as though there were no office he would not take so 
 that he might hang about the neighbourhood of this 
 queen." 
 
 " Then you would not grant him your recommend- 
 ation?" 
 
 " ISTay, truly. I could not answer for him, and his 
 very anxiety made me the more bent on not bringing 
 him hither. I'd fain serve in no ship where I know 
 not the honesty of all the crew, and Cuthbert hath ever 
 had a hankering after the old profession." 
 
 " Yerily then it were not well to bring him hither." 
 
 " Moreover, he is a lover of mysteries and schemes," 
 said Eichard. " He would never be content to let
 
 lit] THE CAPTIVE. 45 
 
 alone the question of our little wench's birth, and 
 would be fretting us for ever about the matter." 
 
 "Did he speak of it?" 
 
 " Yea. He would have me to wit that a nurse and. 
 babe had been put on board at Dumbarton. Well, 
 said I, and so they must have been, since on board 
 they were. Is that all thou hast to tell me ? And 
 mighty as was the work he would have made of it, 
 this was all he seemed to know. I asked, in my turn, 
 how he came to know thus much about a vessel sailing 
 from a port in arms against the Lords of the Congrega- 
 tion, the allies of her Majesty ?" 
 
 "What said he?" 
 
 " That his house had dealings with the owners of 
 the Bride of Dmibar. I like not such dealings, and so 
 long as this lady and her train are near us, I would by 
 no means have him whispering here and there that she 
 is a Scottish orphan." 
 
 "It would chafe my Lady Countess !" said Susan, 
 to whom this was a serious matter. " Yet doth it 
 not behove us to endeavour to find out her parentage ?" 
 
 "I tell you I proved to myself that he knew 
 nothing, and all that we have to do is to hinder him 
 from making mischief out of that little," returned 
 Eichard impatiently. 
 
 The honest captain could scarcely have told the 
 cause of his distrust or of his secrecy, but he had a 
 general feeling that to let an intriguer like Cuthbert 
 Langston rake up any tale that could be connected 
 with the party of the captive queen, could only lead 
 to danger and trouble.
 
 48 UNKNOWN TO HISTOEY. [CHAP. 
 
 " Never mind, Cis," interposed one of the boys — 
 " we shall lose all our play time if you try to make 
 him do it with a grace. Curtsies are women's work 
 — go on." 
 
 " Where was I ? — " (resuming her dignity after 
 these asides) " Thou hast a new farthingale, I see." 
 
 " To do my poor honour to your Grace's birthday. 
 
 " Oh ho ! Is it so ? Methought it had been to do 
 honour to my fair mistress's own taper waist. And 
 pray how much an ell was yonder broidered stuff?" 
 
 " Two crowns, an't please your Grace," returned 
 the supposed lady, making a wild conjecture. 
 
 " Two crowns ! thou foolish Antony ! " TheD 
 recollecting herself, " two crowns ! what, when mine 
 costs but half! Thou presumptuous, lavish varlet — 
 no, no, wench ! what right hast thou to wear gowns 
 finer than thy liege? — I'll teach you." Wherewith, 
 erecting all her talons, and clawing frightfully with 
 them in the air, the supposed Queen Bess leapt at the 
 unfortunate maid of honour, appeared to tear the 
 imaginary robe, and drove her victim off the stage 
 with a great air of violence, amid peals of laughter 
 from the other children, loud enough to drown those 
 of the elders, who could hardly restrain their merri- 
 ment. Gilbert Talbot, however, had been looking 
 about him anxiously all the time, and would fain have 
 moved away ; but a sign from Queen Mary withheld 
 him, as one of the children cried, 
 
 " Now ! show us how she serves her lords." 
 
 The play seemed well understood between them, 
 for the mimic queen again settled herself on her 
 throne, while Will Cavendish, calling out, " Now I'm 
 Master Hatton," began to tread a stately measure on 
 the grass, while the queen exclaimed, " Who is this
 
 IV.] THE OAK AND THE OAKEN HALL. 49 
 
 new star of my court ? What stalwart limbs, what 
 graceful tread ! Who art thou, sir ?" 
 
 " Madam, I am — I am. What is it ? An ef — ef " 
 
 " A daddy-long-legs," mischievously suggested an- 
 other of the group. 
 
 " Xo, it's Latin. Is it Ephraim ? Xo ; it's a fly, 
 something like a gnat " (then at an impatient gesture 
 from her Majesty) " disporting itself in the beams of 
 the noontide sun." 
 
 " Blood-sucking," whispered the real Queen behind 
 the fern. " He is not so far out there. See ! see ! 
 with what a grace the child holds out her little hand 
 for him to kiss. I doubt me if Elizabeth herself could 
 be more stately. But who comes here ?" 
 
 " I'm Sir Philip Sydney." 
 
 " Xo, no," shouted Humfrey, " Sir Philip shall not 
 come into this fooling. My father says he's the best 
 knight in England." 
 
 " He is as bad as the rest in flattery to the Queen," 
 returned young Cavendish. 
 
 " I'll not have it, I say. You may be Lord Lei- 
 cester an you will ! He's but Eobin Dudley." 
 
 " Ah !" began the lad, now advancing and shading 
 his eyes. "What burnished splendour dazzles my 
 weak sight? Is it a second Juno that I behold, or 
 lovely Venus herself ? Xay, there is a wisdom in her 
 that can only belong to the great Minerva herself! 
 So youthful too. Is it Hebe descended to this earth ?" 
 
 Cis smirked, and held out a hand, saying in an 
 affected tone, "Lord Earl, are thy wits astray ?" 
 
 " Whose wits would not be perturbed at the mere 
 sight of such exquisite beauty ?" 
 
 " Come and sit at our feet, and we will try to restore 
 them," said the stage queen ; but here little Diccon, 
 vol. I. E
 
 48 UNKNOWN TO HISTOEY. [CHAP. 
 
 " Never mind, Cis," interposed one of the boys — 
 " we shall lose all our play time if you try to make 
 him do it with a grace. Curtsies are women's work 
 — go on." 
 
 " Where was I ? — " (resuming her dignity after 
 these asides) " Thou hast a new farthingale, I see." 
 
 " To do my poor honour to your Grace's birthday. 
 
 " Oh ho ! Is it so ? Methought it had been to do 
 honour to my fair mistress's own taper waist. And 
 pray how much an ell was yonder broiclered stuff?" 
 
 " Two crowns, an't please your Grace," returned 
 the supposed lady, making a wild conjecture. 
 
 " Two crowns ! thou foolish Antony ! " Then 
 recollecting herself, " two crowns ! what, when mine 
 costs but half! Thou presumptuous, lavish varlet — 
 no, no, wench ! what right hast thou to wear gowns 
 finer than thy liege ? — I'll teach you." Wherewith, 
 erecting all her talons, and clawing frightfully with 
 them in the air, the supposed Queen Bess leapt at the 
 unfortunate maid of honour, appeared to tear the 
 imaginary robe, and drove her victim off the stage 
 with a great air of violence, amid peals of laughter 
 from the other children, loud enough to drown those 
 of the elders, who could hardly restrain their merri- 
 ment. Gilbert Talbot, however, had been looking 
 about him anxiously all the time, and would fain have 
 moved away ; but a sign from Queen Mary withheld 
 him, as one of the children cried, 
 
 " Now ! show us how she serves her lords." 
 
 The play seemed well understood between them, 
 for the mimic queen again settled herself on her 
 throne, while Will Cavendish, calling out, " Now I'm 
 Master Hatton," began to tread a stately measure on 
 the grass, while the queen exclaimed, " Who is this
 
 IV.] THE OAK AND THE OAKEN HALL. 49 
 
 new star of my court ? What stalwart limbs, what 
 graceful tread ! "Who art thou, sir ?" 
 
 " Madam, I am — I am. What is it ? An ef — ef " 
 
 "A daddy-long-legs," mischievously suggested an- 
 other of the group. 
 
 " Xo, it's Latin. Is it Ephraim ? No ; it's a fly, 
 something like a gnat " (then at an impatient gesture 
 from her Majesty) " disporting itself in the beams of 
 the noontide sun." 
 
 " Blood-sucking," whispered the real Queen behind 
 the fern. " He is not so far out there. See ! see ! 
 with what a grace the child holds out her little hand 
 for him to kiss. I doubt me if Elizabeth herself could 
 be more stately. But who comes here ?" 
 
 " I'm Sir Philip Sydney." 
 
 " No, no," shouted Humfrey, " Sir Philip shall not 
 come into this fooling. My father says he's the best 
 knight in England." 
 
 " He is as bad as the rest in flattery to the Queen," 
 returned young Cavendish. 
 
 " I'll not have it, I say. You may be Lord Lei- 
 cester an you will ! He's but Robin Dudley." 
 
 " Ah !" began the lad, now advancing and shading 
 his eyes. " What burnished splendour dazzles my 
 weak sight? Is it a second Juno that I behold, or 
 lovely Venus herself ? Nay, there is a wisdom in her 
 that can only belong to the great Minerva herself! 
 So youthful too. Is it Hebe descended to this earth ?" 
 
 Cis smirked, and held out a hand, saying in an 
 affected tone, " Lord Earl, are thy wits astray ?" 
 
 " Whose wits would not be perturbed at the mere 
 sight of such exquisite beauty ?" 
 
 " Come and sit at our feet, and we will try to restore 
 them," said the stage queen ; but here little Diccon, 
 vol. I. E
 
 50 UNKNOWN TO HISTOEY. [CHAP. 
 
 the youngest of the party, eager for more action, called 
 out, " Show us how she treats her lords and ladies 
 together." 
 
 On which young Babington, as the lady, and 
 Humfrey, made demonstrations of love-making and 
 betrothal, upon which their sovereign lady descended 
 on them with furious tokens of indignation, abusing them 
 right and left, until in the midst the great castle bell 
 pealed forth, and caused a flight general, being, in fact, 
 the summons to the school kept in one of the castle 
 chambers by one Master Snigg, or Sniggius, for the 
 children of the numerous colony who peopled the 
 castle. Girls, as well as boys, were taught there, and 
 thus Cis accompanied Humfrey and Diccon, and con- 
 sorted with their companions. 
 
 Queen Mary was allowed to hunt and take out-of- 
 door exercise in the park whenever she pleased, but 
 Lord Shrewsbury, or one of his sons, Gilbert and 
 Francis, never was absent from her for a moment 
 when she went beyond the door of the lesser lodge, 
 which the Earl had erected for her, with a flat, leaded, 
 and parapeted roof, where she could take the air, and 
 with only one entrance, where was stationed a " gentle- 
 man porter," with two subordinates, whose business it 
 was to keep a close watch over every person or thing 
 that went in or out. If she had any purpose of losing 
 herself in the thickets of fern, or copsewood, in the 
 park, or holding unperceived conference under shelter 
 of the chase, these plans were rendered impossible by 
 the pertinacious presence of one or other of the Talbots, 
 who acted completely up to their name. 
 
 Thus it was that the Queen, with Gilbert in close 
 attendance, had found herself an unseen spectator of 
 the children's performance, which she watched with
 
 IV.] THE OAK AND THE OAKEX HALL 51 
 
 the keen enjoyment that sometimes made her forget her 
 troubles for the moment. 
 
 "How got the imps such knowledge ?" mused Gil- 
 bert Talbot, as he led the Queen out on the sward 
 which had been the theatre of their mimicry. 
 
 "Do you ask that, Sir Gilbert?" said the Queen 
 with emphasis, for indeed it was his wife who had been 
 the chief retailer of scandal about Queen Elizabeth, 
 to the not unwilling ears of herself and his mother; 
 and Antony Babington, as my lady's page, had but 
 used his opportunities. 
 
 " They are insolent varlets and deserve the rod," 
 continued Gilbert. 
 
 " You are too ready with the rod, you English," 
 returned Mary. " You flog all that is clever and 
 spirited out of your poor children !" 
 
 " That is the question, madam. Have the English 
 been found so deficient in spirit compared with other 
 nations ?" 
 
 " Ah ! we all know what you English can say for 
 yourselves," returned the Queen. " See what Master 
 John Coke hath made of the herald's argument before 
 Dame Eenown, in his translation. He hath twisted 
 all the other way." 
 
 " Yea, madam, but the Erench herald had it all his 
 own way before. So it was but just we should have 
 our turn." 
 
 Here a cry from the other hunters greeted them, 
 and they found Lord Shrewsbury, some of the ladies, 
 and a number of prickers, looking anxiously for 
 them. 
 
 " Here we are, good my lord," said the Queen, who, 
 when free from rheumatism, was a most active walker. 
 " We have only been stalking my sister Queen's court 
 
 KKnY"M»«s
 
 52 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAR 
 
 in small, the prettiest and drollest pastime I have seen 
 for many a long day." 
 
 Much had happened in the course of the past years. 
 The intrigues with Northumberland and Norfolk, and 
 the secret efforts of the unfortunate Queen to obtain 
 friends, and stir up enemies against Elizabeth, had 
 resulted in her bonds being drawn closer and closer. 
 The Eising of the North had taken place, and Cuth- 
 bert Langston had been heard of as taking a prominent 
 part beneath the sacred banner, but he had been 
 wounded and not since heard of, and his kindred knew 
 not whether he were among the unnamed dead who 
 loaded the trees in the rear of the army of Sussex, or 
 whether he had escaped beyond seas. Eichard Talbot 
 still remained as one of the trusted kinsmen of Lord 
 Shrewsbury, on whom that nobleman depended for the 
 execution of the charge which yearly became more weari- 
 some and onerous, as hope decayed and plots thickened. 
 
 Though resident in the new lodge with her train, 
 it was greatly diminished by the dismissal from time 
 to time of persons who were regarded as suspicious; 
 Mary still continued on intimate terms with Lady 
 Shrewsbury and her daughters, specially distinguishing 
 with her favour Bessie Pierrepoint, the eldest grandchild 
 of the Countess, who slept with her, and was her play- 
 thing and her pupil in French and needlework. The 
 fiction of her being guest and not prisoner had not 
 entirely passed away ; visitors were admitted, and she 
 went in and out of the lodge, walked or rode at will, 
 only under pretext of courtesy. She never was un- 
 accompanied by the Earl or one of his sons, and they 
 endeavoured to make all private conversation with 
 strangers, or persons unauthorised from Court, im- 
 possible to her.
 
 IV.] THE OAK AND THE OAKEN HALL. 53 
 
 The invitation given to little Cicely on the 
 arrival had not been followed up. The Countess wished 
 to reserve to her own family all the favours of one who 
 might at any moment become the Queen of England, 
 and she kept Susan Talbot and her children in what 
 she called their meet place, in which that good lady 
 thoroughly acquiesced, having her hands much too full 
 of household affairs to run after queens. 
 
 There was a good deal of talk about this child's 
 play, a thing which had much better have been left 
 where it was ; but in a seclusion like that of Sheffield 
 subjects of conversation were not over numerous, and 
 every topic which occurred was apt to be worried to 
 shreds. So Lady Shrewsbury and her daughters heard 
 the Queen's arch description of the children's mimicry, 
 and instantly conceived a desire to see the scene 
 repeated. The gentlemen did not like it at all : their 
 loyalty was offended at the insult to her gracious 
 Majesty, and besides, what might not happen if such 
 sports ever came to her ears ? However, the Countess 
 ruled Sheffield ; and Mary Talbot and Bessie Cavendish 
 ruled the Countess, and they were bent on their own 
 way. So the representation was to take place in the 
 great hall of the manor-house, and the actors were to 
 be dressed in character from my lady's stores. 
 
 " They will ruin it, these clumsy English, after their 
 own fashion," said Queen Mary, among her ladies. " It 
 was the unpremeditated grace and innocent audacity of 
 the little ones that gave the charm. Now it will be a 
 mere broad farce, worthy of Bess of Hardwicke. Mais 
 qtoe voulez vous V 
 
 The performance was, however, laid under a great 
 disadvantage by the absolute refusal of Eichard and 
 Susan Talbot to allow their Cicely to assume the part
 
 54 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 of Queen Elizabeth. They had been dismayed at her 
 doing so in child's play, and since she could read 
 fluently, write pretty well, and cipher a little, the good 
 mother had decided to put a stop to this free associa- 
 tion with the boys at the castle, and to keep her at 
 home to study needlework and housewifery. As to 
 her acting with boys before the assembled households, 
 the proposal seemed to them absolutely insulting to 
 any daughter of the Talbot line, and they had by this 
 time forgotten that she was no such thing. Bess 
 Cavendish, the special spoilt child of the house, 
 even rode down, armed with her mother's commands, 
 but her feudal feeling did not here sway Mistress 
 Susan. 
 
 Public acting was esteemed an indignity for women, 
 and, though Cis was a mere child, all Susan's woman- 
 hood awoke, and she made answer firmly that she 
 could not obey my Lady Countess in this. 
 
 Bess flounced out of the house, indignantly telling 
 her she should rue the day, and Cis herself cried pas- 
 sionately, longing after the fine robes and jewels, and 
 the presentation of herself as a queen before the whole 
 company of the castle. The harsh system of the time 
 made the good mother think it her duty to requite 
 this rebellion with the rod, and to set the child down 
 to her seam in the corner, and there sat Cis, pouting 
 and brooding over what Antony Babington had told 
 her of what he had picked up when in his page's 
 capacity, attending his lady, of Queen Mary's admira- 
 tion of the pretty ways and airs of the little mimic 
 Queen Bess, till she felt as if she were defrauded of 
 her due. The captive Queen was her dream, and to 
 hear her commendations, perhaps be kissed by her, 
 would be supreme bliss. Nay, she still hoped that
 
 IV.] THE OAK AND THE OAKEN HALL. 55 
 
 there would be an interference of the higher powers 
 on her behalf, which would give her a triumph. 
 
 jSTo ! Captain Talbot came home, saying, " So, 
 Mistress Sue, thou art a steadfast woman, to have 
 resisted my lady's will ! " 
 
 "I knew, my good husband, that thou wouldst 
 never see our Cis even in sport a player ! " 
 
 " Assuredly not, and thou hadst the best of it, for 
 when Mistress Bess came in as full of wrath as a 
 petard of powder, and made your refusal known, my 
 lord himself cried out, ' And she's in the right o't ! 
 What a child may do in sport is not fit for a gentle- 
 woman in earnest.' " 
 
 " Then, hath not my lord put a stop to the whole ? " 
 
 " Fain would he do so, but the Countess and her 
 daughters are set on carrying out the sport. They 
 have set Master Sniggius to indite the speeches, and 
 the boys of the school are to take the parts for their 
 autumn interlude." 
 
 " Surely that is perilous, should it come to the 
 knowledge of those at Court." 
 
 " Oh, I promise you, Sniggius hath a device for 
 disguising all that could give offence. The Queen 
 will become Semiramis or Zenobia, I know not which, 
 and my Lord of Leicester, Master Hatton, and the 
 others, will be called Mnus or Longinus, or some 
 such heathenish long-tailed terms, and speak speeches 
 of mighty length. Are they to be in Latin, Hum- 
 frey?" 
 
 " Oh no, sir," said Humfrey, with a shudder. 
 " Master Sniggius woidd have had them so, but the 
 young ladies said they would have nothing to do with 
 the affair if there were one word of Latin uttered. It 
 is bad enough as it is. I am to be Philidaspes, an
 
 56 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAR 
 
 Assyrian knight, and have some speeches to learn, 
 at least one is twenty-five lines, and not one is less 
 than five ! " 
 
 " A right requital for thy presumptuous and treason- 
 able game, my son," said his father, teasing him. 
 
 " And who is to be the Queen ? " asked the mother. 
 
 "Antony Babington," said Humfrey, "because he 
 can amble and mince more like a wench than any of 
 us. The worse luck for him. He will have more 
 speeches than any one of us to learn." 
 
 The report of the number of speeches to be learnt 
 took off the sting of Cis's disappointment, though she 
 would not allow that it did so, declaring with truth 
 that she could learn by hearing faster than any of the 
 boys. Indeed, she did learn all Humfrey's speeches, 
 and Antony's to boot, and assisted both of them with 
 all her might in committing them to memory. 
 
 As Captain Talbot had foretold, the boys' sport 
 was quite sufficiently punished by being made into 
 earnest. Master Sniggius was far from merciful as to 
 length, and his satire was so extremely remote that 
 Queen Elizabeth herself could hardly have found out 
 that Zenobia's fine moral lecture on the vanities of too 
 aspiring ruffs was founded on the box on the ear which 
 rewarded poor Lady Mary Howard's display of her 
 rich petticoat, nor would her cheeks have tingled when 
 the Queen of the East — by a bold adaptation — played 
 the part of Lion in interrupting the interview of our 
 old friends Pyramus and Thisbe, who, by an awful 
 anachronism, were carried to Palmyra. It was no 
 plagiarism from "Midsummer Night's Dream," only 
 drawn from the common stock of playwrights. 
 
 So, shorn of all that was perilous, and only under- 
 stood by the initiated, the play took place in s the Castle
 
 IV.] THE OAK AND THE OAKEN HALL. 57 
 
 Hall, the largest available place, with Queen Mary 
 seated upon the dais, with a canopy of State over her 
 head, Lady Shrewsbury on a chair nearly as high, the 
 Earl, the gentlemen and ladies of their suites drawn 
 up in a circle, the servants where they could, the 
 Earl's musicians thundering with drums, tooting with 
 fifes, twanging on fiddles, overhead in a gallery. Cis 
 and Diccon, on either side of Susan Talbot, gazing on 
 the stage, where, much encumbered by hoop and far- 
 thingale, and arrayed in a yellow curled wig, strutted 
 forth Antony Babington, declaiming — 
 
 " Great Queen Zenobia am I, 
 The Roman Power I defy. 
 At my Palmyra, in the East, 
 I rule o'er every man and beast." 
 
 Here was an allusion couched in the Eoman power, 
 which Master Antony had missed, or he would hardly 
 have uttered it, since he was of a Eoman Catholic 
 family, though, while in the Earl's household, he had 
 to conform outwardly. 
 
 A slender, scholarly lad, with a pretty, innocent 
 face, and a voice that could "speak small, like a 
 woman," came in and announced himself thus — 
 
 " I'm Thisbe, an Assyrian maid, 
 My robe's with jewels overlaid." 
 
 The stiff colloquy between the two boys, encumbered 
 with their dresses, shy and awkward, and rehearsing 
 their lines like a task, was no small contrast to the 
 merry impromptu under the oak, and the gay, free 
 grace of the children. 
 
 Poor Philidaspes acquitted himself worst of all, for 
 when done up in a glittering suit of sham armour, with
 
 58 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 a sword and dagger of lath, his entire speech, though 
 well conned, deserted him, and he stood red-faced, 
 hesitating, and ready to cry, when suddenly from the 
 midst of the spectators there issued a childish voice, 
 " Go on, Humfrey ! 
 
 " Philidaspes am I, most valorous knight, 
 Ever ready for Church and Queen to fight. 
 
 " Go on, I say !" and she gave a little stamp of 
 impatience, to the extreme confusion of the mother and 
 the great amusement of the assembled company. 
 Humfrey, once started, delivered himself of the rest of 
 his oration in a glum and droning voice, occasioning 
 fits of laughter, such as by no means added to his self- 
 possession. 
 
 The excellent Sniggius and his company of boys 
 had certainly, whether intentionally or not, deprived 
 the performance of all its personal sting, and most 
 likewise of its interest. Such diversion as the specta- 
 tors derived was such as Hippolyta seems to have found 
 in listening to Wall, Lion, Moonshine and Co. ; but, 
 like Theseus, Lord Shrewsbury was very courteous, and 
 complimented both playwright and actors, relieved and 
 thankful, no doubt, that Queen Zenobia was so unlike 
 his royal mistress. 
 
 There was nothing so much enforced by Queen 
 Elizabeth as that strangers should not have resort to 
 Sheffield Castle. JSTo spectators, except those attached 
 to the household, and actually forming part of the 
 colony within the park, were therefore supposed to be 
 admitted, and all of them were carefully kept at a dis- 
 tant part of the hall, where they could have no access 
 to the now much reduced train of the Scottish Queen, 
 with whom all intercourse was forbidden.
 
 IV.] THE OAK AND THE OAKEN HALL. 59 
 
 Humfrey was therefore surprised when, just as he 
 had come out of the tiring-room, glad to divest himself 
 of his encumbering and gaudy equipments, a man 
 touched him on the arm and humbly said, " Sir, I have 
 a humble entreaty to make of you. If you would 
 convey my petition to the Queen of Scots !" 
 
 " I have nothing to do with the Queen of Scots,"' 
 said the ex-Philidaspes, glancing suspiciously at the 
 man's sleeve, where, however, he saw the silver dog, 
 the family badge. 
 
 " She is a charitable lady," continued the man, who 
 looked like a groom, " and if she only knew that my 
 poor old aunt is lying famishing, she would aid her. 
 Pray you, good my lord, help me to let this scroll 
 reach to her." 
 
 " I'm no lord, and I have naught to do with the 
 Queen," repeated Humfrey, while at the same moment 
 Antony, who had been rather longer in getting out of 
 his female attire, presented himself ; and Humfrey, pity- 
 ing the man's distress, said, " This young gentleman is 
 the Countess's page. He sometimes sees the Queen." 
 
 The man eagerly told his story, how his aunt, the 
 widow of a huckster, had gone on with the trade till 
 she had been cruelly robbed and beaten, and now was 
 utterly destitute, needing aid to set herself up again. 
 The Queen of Scots was noted for her beneficent alms- 
 giving, and a few silver pieces from her would be quite 
 sufficient to replenish her basket. 
 
 Xeither boy doubted a moment. Antony had the 
 entrde to the presence chamber, where on this festival 
 night the Earl and Countess were sure to be with the 
 Queen. He went straightway thither, and trained as 
 he was in the usages of the place, told his business 
 to the Earl, who was seated near the Queen. Lord
 
 60 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 Shrewsbury took the petition from him, glanced it 
 over, and asked. " Who knew the Guy Norman who sent 
 it?" Frank Talbot answered for him, that he was a 
 yeoman pricker, and the Earl permitted the paper to be 
 carried to Mary, watching her carefully as she read it, 
 when Antony had presented it on one knee. 
 
 " Poor woman !" she said, " it is a piteous case. 
 Master Beatoun, hast thou my purse ? Here, Master 
 Babington, wilt thou be the bearer of this angel for 
 me, since I know that the delight of being the bearer 
 will be a reward to thy kind heart." 
 
 Antony gracefully kissed the fair hand, and ran 
 off joyously with the Queen's bounty. Little did any 
 one guess what the career thus begun would bring that 
 fair boy.
 
 V.] THE HUCKSTERING WOMAN. 61 
 
 CHAPTEK V. 
 
 THE HUCKSTERING WOMAN. 
 
 The huckstering woman, Tibbott by name, was tended 
 by Queen Mary's apothecary, and in due time was sent 
 off well provided, to the great fair of York, whence 
 she returned with a basket of needles, pins (such as 
 they were), bodkins, and the like articles, wherewith to 
 circulate about Hallamshire, but the gate-wards would 
 not relax their rules so far as to admit her into the 
 park. She was permitted, however, to bring her wares 
 to the town of Sheffield, and to Bridgefield, but she 
 might come no farther. 
 
 Thither Antony Babington came down to lay out 
 the crown which had been given to him on his birth- 
 day, and indeed half Master Sniggius's scholars dis- 
 covered needs, and came down either to spend, or to 
 give advice to the happy owners of groats and testers. 
 So far so good ; but the huckster- woman soon made 
 Bridgefield part of her regular rounds, and took little 
 commissions which she executed for the household of 
 Sheffield, who were, as the Cavendish sisters often said 
 in their spleen, almost as much prisoners as the Queen 
 of Scots. Antony Babington was always her special 
 patron, and being Humfrey's great companion and play- 
 fellow, he was allowed to come in and out of the gates
 
 62 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 unquestioned, to play with him and with Cis, who no 
 longer went to school, but was trained at home in 
 needlework and housewifery. 
 
 Match-making began at so early an age, that when 
 Mistress Susan had twice found her and Antony 
 Babington with their heads together over the lament- 
 able ballad of the cold fish that had been a lady, and 
 which sang its own history "forty thousand fathom 
 above water," she began to question whether the girl 
 were the attraction. He was now an orphan, and his 
 wardship and marriage had been granted to the Earl, 
 who, having disposed of all his daughters and step- 
 daughters, except Bessie Cavendish, might very fairly 
 bestow on the daughter of his kinsman so good a 
 match as the young squire of Dethick. 
 
 " Then should we have to consider of her parentage," 
 said Eichard, when his wife had propounded her views. 
 
 " I never can bear in mind that the dear wench is 
 none of ours," said Susan. " Thou didst say thou 
 wouldst portion her as if she were our own little maid, 
 and I have nine webs ready for her household linen. 
 Must we speak of her as a stranger?" 
 
 " It would scarce be just towards another family to 
 let them deem her of true Talbot blood, if she were to 
 enter among them," said Eichard ; " though I look on 
 the little merry maid as if she were mine own child. 
 But there is no need yet to begin upon any such coil ; 
 and, indeed, I would wager that my lady hath other 
 views for young Babington." 
 
 After all, parents often know very little of what 
 passes in children's minds, and Cis never hinted to her 
 mother that the bond of union between her and Antony 
 was devotion to the captive Queen. Cis had only had a 
 glimpse or two of her, riding by when hunting or hawk-
 
 V.] THE HUCKSTERING WOMAN, G3 
 
 ing, or when, on festive occasions, all who were privileged 
 to enter the park were mustered together, among whom 
 the Talbots ranked high as kindred to both Earl and 
 Countess ; but those glimpses had been enough to fill 
 the young heart with romance, such as the matter-of- 
 fact elders never guessed at. Antony Babington, who 
 was often actually in the gracious presence, and received 
 occasional smiles, and even greetings, was immeasur- 
 ably devoted to the Queen, and maintained Cicely's 
 admiration by his vivid descriptions of the kindness, 
 the grace, the charms of the royal captive, in con- 
 trast with the innate vulgarity of their own Countess. 
 
 Willie Douglas (the real Eoland Grserae of the 
 escape from Lochleven) had long ago been dismissed 
 from Mary's train, with all the other servants who were 
 deemed superfluous ; but Antony had heard the details 
 of the story from Jean Kennedy (Mrs. Kennett, as the 
 English were pleased to call her), and Willie was the 
 hero of his emulative imagination. 
 
 " What would I not do to be like him!" he fervently 
 exclaimed when he had narrated the story to Humfrey 
 and Cis, as they lay on a nest in the fern one fine 
 autumn day, resting after an expedition to gather 
 blackberries for the mother's preserving. 
 
 " I would not be him for anything," said Humfrey. 
 
 " Eie, Humfrey," cried Cis ; " would not you dare 
 exile or anything else in a good cause ? " 
 
 " Eor a good cause, ay," said Humfrey in his stolid 
 way. 
 
 " And what can be a better cause than that of the 
 fairest of captive queens ? " exclaimed Antony, hotly. 
 
 " I would not be a traitor," returned Humfrey, as 
 he lay on his back, looking up through the chequer- 
 work of the branches of the trees towards the sky.
 
 64 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 " Who dares link the word traitor with my name V 
 said Babington, feeling for the imaginary handle of a 
 sword. 
 
 " Not I ; but you'll get it linked if you go on in 
 this sort." 
 
 " For shame, Humfrey," again cried Cis, passion- 
 ately. " Why, delivering imprisoned princesses always 
 was the work of a true knight." 
 
 " Yea ; but they first defied the giant openly," said 
 Humfrey. 
 
 " What of that ? " said Antony. 
 
 " They did not do it under trust," said Humfrey. 
 
 " I am not under trust," said Antony. " Your 
 father may be a sworn servant of the Earl and the 
 Queen — Queen Elizabeth, I mean ; but I have taken 
 no oaths — nobody asked me if I would come here." 
 
 " No," said Humfrey, knitting his brows ; " but you 
 see we are all trusted to go in and out as we please, 
 on the understanding that we do nought that can be 
 unfaithful to the Earl ; and I suppose it was thus with 
 this same Willie Douglas." 
 
 " She was his own true and lawful Queen," cried 
 Cis. " His first duty was to her." 
 
 Humfrey sat up and looked perplexed, but with 
 a sudden thought exclaimed, " No Scots are we, thanks 
 be to Heaven ! and what might be loyalty in him 
 would be rank treason in us." 
 
 " How know you that ? " said Antony. " I have 
 heard those who say that our lawful Queen is there," 
 and he pointed towards the walls that rose in the dis- 
 tance above the woods. 
 
 Humfrey rose wrathful. " Then truly you are no 
 better than a traitor, and a Spaniard, and a Papist," 
 and fists were clenched on both sides, while Cis flew
 
 V.] THE HUCKSTERING WOMAN". G5 
 
 between, pulling down Humfrey's uplifted hand, and 
 crying, " No, no ; he did not say he thought so, only 
 he had heard it," 
 
 " Let him say it again ! " growled Antony, his arm 
 bared. 
 
 " No, don't, Humfrey ! " as if she saw it between his 
 clenched teeth. " You know you only meant if Tony 
 thought so, and he didn't. Now how can you two be 
 so foolish and unkind to me, to bring me out for a 
 holiday to eat blackberries and make heather crowns, 
 and then go and spoil it all with folly about Papists, 
 and Spaniards, and grown-up people's nonsense that 
 nobody cares about ! " 
 
 Cis had a rare power over both her comrades, and 
 her piteous appeal actually disarmed them, since there 
 was no one present to make them ashamed of their 
 own placability. Grown - up people's follies were 
 avoided by mutual consent through the rest of the 
 walk, and the three children parted amicably when 
 Antony had to return to fulfil his page's duties at my 
 lord's supper, and Humfrey and Cis carried home their 
 big basket of blackberries. 
 
 When they entered their own hall they found their 
 mother engaged in conversation with a tall, stout, and 
 weather-beaten man, whom she announced — " See here, 
 my children, here is a good friend of your father's, 
 Master Goatley, who was his chief mate in all his 
 voyages, and hath now come over all the way from 
 Hull to see him ! He will be here anon, sir, so soon 
 as the guard is changed at the Queen's lodge. Mean- 
 time, here are the elder children." 
 
 Diccon, who had been kept at home by some tem- 
 porary damage to his foot, and little Edward were 
 devouring the sailor with their eyes ; and Humfrey 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 66 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 and Cis were equally delighted with the introduction, 
 especially as Master Goatley was just returned from 
 the Western Main, and from a curious grass-woven 
 basket which he carried slung to his side, produced 
 sundry curiosities in the way of beads, shell-work, 
 feather-work, and a hatchet of stone, and even a curious 
 armlet of soft, dull gold, with pearls set in it. This 
 he had, with great difficulty, obtained on purpose for 
 Mistress Talbot, who had once cured him of a bad 
 festering hurt received on board ship. 
 
 The children clustered round in ecstasies of admira- 
 tion and wonder as they heard of the dark brown 
 natives, the curious expedients by which barter was 
 carried on ; also of cruel Spaniards, and of savage 
 fishes, with all the marvels of flying-fish,, corals, palm- 
 trees, humming birds — all that is lesson work to our 
 modern youth, but was the most brilliant of living 
 fairy tales at this Elizabethan period. Humfrey and 
 Diccon were ready to rush off to voyage that instant, 
 and even little Ned cried imitatively in his imperfect 
 language that he would be " a tailor." 
 
 Then their father came home, and joyfully wel- 
 comed and clasped hands with his faithful mate, 
 declaring that the sight did him good ; and they sat 
 down to supper and talked of voyages, till the boys' 
 eyes' glowed, and they beat upon their own knees with 
 the enthusiasm that their strict manners bade them 
 repress ; while their mother kept back her sighs as 
 she saw them becoming infected with that sea fever so 
 dreaded by parents. Nay, she saw it in her husband 
 himself. She knew him to be grievously weary of a 
 charge most monotonously dull, and only varied by 
 suspicions and petty detections ; and that he was 
 hungering and thirsting for his good ship and to be-
 
 V.] THE HUCKSTERING WOMAN. 67 
 
 facing winds and waves. She could hear his lonmncr in 
 the very sound of the " Ays ? " and brief inquiries by 
 which he encouraged Goatley to proceed in the story 
 of voyages and adventures, and she could not wonder 
 when Goatley said, " Your heart is in it still, sir. 
 Xot one of us all but says it is a pity such a noble 
 captain should be lost as a landsman, with nothing to 
 do but to lock the door on a lady." 
 
 " Speak not of it, my good Goatley," said Richard, 
 hastily, " or you will set me dreaming and make me 
 mad." 
 
 " Then it is indeed so," returned Goatley. " "Where- 
 fore then come you not, sir, where a crew is waiting for 
 you of as good fellows as ever stepped on a deck, and 
 who, one and all, are longing after such a captain 
 as you are, sir ? Wherefore hold back while still in 
 your prime ? " 
 
 " Ask the mistress, there," said Eicharcl, as he saw 
 his Susan's white face and trembling ringers, though 
 she kept her eyes on her work to prevent them from 
 betraying their tears and their wistfulness. 
 
 " sweet father," burst forth Humfrey, " do but 
 go, and take me. I am quite old enough." 
 
 " Nay, Humfrey, 'tis no matter of liking," said his 
 father, not wishing to prolong his wife's suspense. 
 " Look you here, boy, my Lord Earl is captain of all 
 of his name by right of birth, and so long as he needs 
 my services, I have no right to take them from him. 
 Dost see, my boy ? " 
 
 Humfrey reluctantly did see. It was a great favour 
 to be thus argued with, and admitted of no reply. 
 
 Mrs. Talbot's heart rejoiced, but she was not sorry 
 that it was time for her to carry off Diccon and Ned to 
 their beds, away from the fascinating narrative, and she
 
 68 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 would give no respite, though Diccon pleaded hard. 
 In fact, the danger might be the greatest to him, since 
 Humfrey, though born within the smell of the sea, 
 might be retained by the call of duty like his father. To 
 Cis, at least, she thought the sailor's conversation could 
 do no harm, little foreboding the words that presently 
 ensued. " And, sir, what befell the babe we found in 
 our last voyage off the Spurn ? It would methinks be 
 about the age of this pretty mistress." 
 
 Eichard Talbot endeavoured to telegraph a look 
 both of assent and warning, but though Master 
 Ooatley would have been sharp to detect the least 
 token of a Spanish galleon on the most distant horizon, 
 the signal fell utterly short. " Ay, sir. What, is it 
 so ? Bless me ! The very maiden ! And you have 
 bred her up for your own." 
 
 " Sir ! Father ! " cried Cis, looking from one to the 
 other, with eyes and mouth wide open. 
 
 " Soh ! " cried the sailor, " what have I done ? I 
 beg your pardon, sir, if I have overhauled what 
 should have been let alone. But," continued the 
 honest, but tactless man, " who could have thought of 
 the like of that, and that the pretty maid never knew 
 it ? Ay, ay, dear heart. Never fear but that the 
 captain will be good father to you all the same." 
 
 For Eichard Talbot had held out his arm, and, 
 as Cis ran up to him, he had seated her on his 
 knee, and held her close to him. Humfrey likewise 
 started up with an impulse to contradict, which was 
 suddenly cut short by a strange flash of memory, so 
 all he did was to come up to his father, and grasp 
 one of the girl's hands as fast as he could. She 
 trembled and shivered, but there was something in the 
 presence of this strange man which choked back all
 
 V ] THE HUCKSTERING WOMAN. 69 
 
 inquiry, and the silence, the vehement grasp, and the 
 shuddering, alarmed the captain, lest she might sud- 
 denly go off into a fit upon his hands. 
 
 " This is gear for mother," said he, and taking her 
 up like a baby, carried her off, followed closely by 
 Humfrey. He met Susan coming down, asking 
 anxiously, " Is she sick ? " 
 
 " I hope not, mother," he said, " but honest Goatley, 
 thinking no harm, hath blurted out that which we 
 had never meant her to know, at least not yet awhile, 
 and it hath wrought strangely with her." 
 
 " Then it is true, father ? " said Humfrey, in rather 
 an awe-stricken voice, while Cis still buried her face 
 on the captain's breast. 
 
 " Yes," he said, " yea, my children, it is true that 
 God sent us a daughter from the sea and the wreck 
 when He had taken our own little maid to His rest. 
 But we have ever loved our Cis as well, and hope 
 ever to do so while she is our good child. Take 
 her, mother, and tell the children how it befell ; if I 
 go not down, the fellow will spread it all over the 
 house, and happily none were present save Humfrey 
 and the little maiden." 
 
 Susan put the child down on her own bed, and 
 there, with Humfrey standing by, told the history of 
 the father carrying in the little shipwrecked babe. 
 They both listened with eyes devouring her, but they 
 were as yet too young to ask questions about evi- 
 dences, and Susan did not volunteer these, only when the 
 girl asked, " Then, have I no name ? " she answered, 
 " A godly minister, Master Heatherthwayte, gave thee 
 the name of Cicely when he christened thee." 
 
 " I marvel who I am ? " said Cis, gazing round her, 
 as if the world were all new to her.
 
 70 UNKNOWN TO HISTOEY. [CHAP. 
 
 '• It does not matter/' said Humfrey, " you are 
 just the same to us, is she not, mother ? " 
 
 " She is our dear Heaven-sent child/' said the mother 
 tenderly. 
 
 " But thou art not my true mother, nor Humfrey 
 nor Diccon my brethren," she said, stretching out her 
 hands like one in the dark. 
 
 " If I'm not your brother, Cis, I'll be your husband, 
 and then you will have a real right to be called Talbot. 
 That's better than if you were my sister, for then you 
 would go away, I don't know where, and now you 
 will always be mine — mine — mine very own." 
 
 And as he gave Cis a hug in assurance of his 
 intentions/ his father, who was uneasy about the 
 matter, looked in again, and as Susan, with tears in 
 her eyes, pointed to the children, the good man said, 
 " By my faith, the boy has found the way to cut the 
 knot — or rather to tie it. What say you, dame ? 
 If we do not get a portion for him, we do not have to 
 give one with her, so it is as broad as it is long, and she 
 remains our dear child. Only listen, children, you are 
 both old enough to keep a secret. Not one word of all 
 this matter is to be breathed to any soul till I bid you." 
 
 " Not to Diccon," said Humfrey decidedly. 
 
 " Nor to Antony ? " asked Cis wistfully. 
 
 " To Antony ? No, indeed ! What has he to do 
 with it ? Now, to your beds, children, and forget all 
 about this tale." 
 
 " There, Humfrey," broke out Cis, as soon as they 
 were alone together, " Huckstress Tibbott is a wise 
 woman, whatever thou mayest say." 
 
 " How ? " said Humfrey. 
 
 " Mindst thou not the day when I crossed her hand 
 with the tester father gave me ? "
 
 V.] THE HUCKSTERING WOMAN. 71 
 
 "When mother whipped thee for listening to for- 
 tune-tellers, and wasting thy substance. Ay, I mind 
 it well," said Humfrey, " and how thou didst stand 
 simpering at her pack of lies, ere mother made thee 
 sing another tune." 
 
 " Nay, Humfrey, they were no lies, though I thought 
 them so then. She said I was not what I seemed, 
 and that the Talbots' kennel would not always hold 
 one of the noble northern eagles. So Humfrey, sweet 
 Humfrey, thou must not make too sure of wedding 
 me." 
 
 " I'll wed thee though all the lying old gipsy-wives 
 in England wore their false throats out in screeching 
 out that I shall not," cried Humfrey. 
 
 " But she must have known," said Cis, in an awe- 
 struck voice ; " the spirits must have spoken with her, 
 and said that I am none of the Talbots." 
 
 " Hath mother heard this ? " asked Humfrey, re- 
 coiling a little, but never thinking of the more plau- 
 sible explanation. 
 
 " Oh no, no ! tell her not, Humfrey, tell her not. 
 She said she would whip me again if ever I talked 
 again of the follies that the fortune-telling woman had 
 gulled me with, for if they were not deceits, they were 
 worse. And, thou seest, they are worse, Humfrey ! " 
 
 With which awe-stricken conclusion the children 
 went off to bed.
 
 72 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP, 
 
 CHAPTEE VI. 
 
 THE BEWITCHED WHISTLE. 
 
 A child's point of view is so different from that of a 
 grown person, that the discovery did not make half 
 so much difference to Cis as her adopted parents 
 expected. In fact it was like a dream to her. She 
 found her daily life and her surroundings the same, 
 and her chief interest was — at least apparently — how- 
 soon she could escape from psalter and seam, to play 
 with little Ned, and look out for the elder boys return- 
 ing, or watch for the Scottish Queen taking her daily 
 ride. Once, prompted by Antony, Cis had made a 
 beautiful nosegay of lilies and held it up to the Queen 
 when she rode in at the gate on her return from 
 Buxton. She had been rewarded by the sweetest of 
 smiles, but Captain Talbot had said it must never 
 happen again, or he should be accused of letting billets 
 pass in posies. The whole place was pervaded, in 
 fact, by an atmosphere of suspicion, and the vigilance, 
 which might have been endurable for a few months, was 
 wearing the spirits and temper of all concerned, now 
 that it had already lasted for seven or eight years, and 
 there seemed no end to it. Moreover, in spite of all 
 care, it every now and then became apparent that 
 Queen Mary had some communication with the outer
 
 VI. 1 THE BEWITCHED WHISTLE. 73 
 
 world which no one could trace, though the effects 
 endangered the life of Queen Elizabeth, the peace of 
 the kingdom, and the existence of the English Church. 
 The blame always fell upon Lord Shrewsbury; and 
 who could wonder that he was becoming captiously 
 suspicious, and soured in temper, so that even such 
 faithful kinsmen as Eichard Talbot could sometimes 
 hardly bear with him, and became punctiliously anxious 
 that there should not !be the smallest loophole for cen- 
 sure of the conduct of himself and his family ? 
 
 The person on whom Master Goat-ley's visit had left 
 the most impression seemed to be Humfrey. On the 
 one hand, his father's words had made him enter into his 
 situation of trust and loyalty, and perceive something 
 of the constant sacrifice of self to duty that it required, 
 and, on the other hand, he had assumed a position 
 towards Cis of which he in some degree felt the force. 
 There was .nothing in the opinions of the time to 
 render their semi-betrothal ridiculous. At the Manor- 
 house itself, Gilbert Talbot and Mary Cavendish had 
 been married when no older than he was ; half their 
 contemporaries were already plighted, and the only 
 difference was that in the present harassing state of 
 surveillance in which every one lived, the parents 
 thought that to avow the secret so long kept might 
 bring about inquiry and suspicion, and they therefore 
 wished it to be guarded till the marriage could be 
 contracted. As Cis developed, she had looks and tones 
 which so curiously harmonised, .now with the Scotch, 
 now with the French element in the royal captive's 
 suite, and which made Captain Eichard believe that 
 she must belong to some of the families who seemed 
 amphibious between the two courts ; and her identi- 
 fication as a Seaton, a Elemyng, a Beatoun, or as a mem-
 
 74 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 ber of any of the families attached to the losing cause, 
 would only involve her in exile and disgrace. Besides, 
 there was every reason to think her an orphan, and a 
 distant kinsman was scarcely likely to give her such a 
 home as she had at Bridgefield, where she had always 
 been looked on as a daughter, and was now regarded 
 as doubly their own in right of their son. So Hum- 
 frey was permitted to consider her as peculiarly his 
 own, and he exerted this right of property by a 
 certain jealousy of Antony Babington which amused 
 his parents, and teased the young lady. Nor was 
 he wholly actuated by the jealousy of proprietor- 
 ship, for he knew the devotion with which Antony 
 regarded Queen Mary, and did not wholly trust him. 
 His sense of honour and duty to his father's trust was 
 one thing, Antony's knight-errantry to the beautiful 
 captive was another; each boy thought himself strictly 
 honourable, while they moved in parallel lines and 
 could not understand one another; yet, with the 
 reserve of childhood, all that passed between them 
 was a secret, till one afternoon when loud angry 
 sounds and suppressed sobs attracted Mistress Susan 
 to the garden, where she found Cis crying bitterly, 
 and little Diccon staring eagerly, while a pitched 
 battle was going on between her eldest son and young 
 Antony Babington, who were pommelling each other 
 too furiously to perceive her approach. 
 
 " Boys ! boys ! fie for shame," she cried, with a 
 hand on the shoulder of each, and they stood apart 
 at her touch, though still fiercely looking at one 
 another. 
 
 " See what spectacles you have made of yourselves '" 
 she continued. " Is this your treatment of your guest, 
 Humfrey ? How is my Lord's page to show himself at
 
 VI.] THE BEWITCHED WHISTLE. 75 
 
 Chatsworth to-morrow with such an eye ? Vvliat is it 
 all about?" 
 
 Both combatants eyed each other in sullen silence. 
 
 " Tell me, Cis. Tell me, Diccon. I will know, or 
 you shall have the rod as well as Humfrey." 
 
 Diccon, who was still in the era of timidity, in- 
 stead of secretiveness, spoke out. " He," indicating his 
 brother, "wanted the packet." 
 
 "What packet?" exclaimed the mother, alarmed. 
 
 " The packet that he (another nod towards Antony) 
 wanted Cis to give that witch in case she came while 
 he is at Chatsworth." 
 
 " It was the dog- whistle," said Cis. " It hath no 
 sound in it, and Antony would have me change it for 
 him, because Huckster Tibbott may not come within 
 the gates. I did not want to do so ; I fear Tibbott, 
 and when Humfrey found me crying he fell on 
 Antony. So blame him not, mother." 
 
 " If Humfrey is a jealous churl, and Cis a little 
 fool, there's no help for it," said Antony, disdainfully 
 turning his back on his late adversary. 
 
 " Then let me take charge of this whistle," re- 
 turned the lady, moved by the universal habit of 
 caution, but Antony sprang hastily to intercept her 
 as she was taking from the little girl a small paper 
 packet tied round with coloured yarn, but he was not 
 in time, and could only exclaim, "Nay, nay, madam, I 
 will not trouble you. It is nothing." 
 
 "Master Babington," said Susan firmly, "you know 
 as well as I do that no packet may pass out of the 
 park unopened. If you wished to have the whistle 
 changed you should have brought it uncovered. I am 
 sorry for the discourtesy, and ask your pardon, but this 
 parcel may not pass."
 
 76 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAF. 
 
 " Then/' said Antony, with difficulty repressing 
 something much more passionate and disrespectful, " let 
 me have it again." 
 
 " Nay, Master Babington, that would not suit with 
 my duty." 
 
 The boy altogether lost his temper. "Duty! duty!" 
 he cried. " I am sick of the word. All it means is a 
 mere feigned excuse for prying and spying, and beset- 
 ting the most beautiful and unhappy princess in the 
 world for her true faith and true right !" 
 
 "Master Antony Babington," said Susan gravely, 
 r ' you had better take care what you are about. If 
 those words of yours had been spoken in my Lord's 
 hearing, they would bring you worse than the rod or 
 bread and water." 
 
 "What care I what I suffer for such a Queen?" 
 exclaimed Antony. 
 
 " Suffering is a different matter from saying ' What 
 care 1/ " returned the lady, " as I fear you will learn, 
 Master Antony." 
 
 " mother ! sweet mother," said Cis, " you will 
 not tell of him !" — but mother shook her head. 
 
 " Prithee, dear mother," added Humfrey, seeing no 
 relenting in her countenance, " I did but mean to hinder 
 Cis from being maltreated and a go-between in this 
 traffic with an old witch, not to bring Tony into trouble." 
 
 " His face is a tell-tale, Humfrey," said Susan. " I 
 meant ere now to have put a piece of beef on it. 
 Come in, Antony, and let me wash it." 
 
 "Thank you, madam, I need nothing here," said 
 Antony, stalking proudly off; while Humfrey, exclaim- 
 ing " Don't be an ass, Tony ! — Mother, no one would 
 care to ask what we had given one another black eyes 
 for in a friendly way," tried to hold him back, and he
 
 VI.] THE BEWITCHED WHISTLE. 77 
 
 did linger when Cis added her persuasions to him not 
 to return the spectacle he was at present. 
 
 " If this lady will promise not to betray an un- 
 fortunate Queen," he said, as if permission to deal with 
 his bruises were a great reward. 
 
 "Oh! you foolish boy!" exclaimed Mistress Talbot, 
 " you were never meant for a plotter ! you have your- 
 self betrayed that you are her messenger." 
 
 " And I am not ashamed of it," said Antony, hold- 
 ing his head high. " Madam, madam, if you have 
 surprised this from me, you are the more bound not to 
 betray her. Think, lady, if you were shut up from 
 your children and friends, would you not seek to send 
 tidings to them ? " 
 
 " Child, child ! Heaven knows I am not blaming 
 the poor lady within there. I am only thinking what 
 is right." 
 
 " Well," said Antony, somewhat hopefully, " if that 
 be all, give me back the packet, or tear it up, if you 
 will, and there can be no harm done." 
 
 " Oh, do so, sweet mother," entreated Cis, earnestly ; 
 " he will never bid me go to Tibbott again." 
 
 " Ay," said Humfrey, " then no tales will be told." 
 
 For even he, with all his trustworthiness, or indeed 
 because of it, could not bear to bring a comrade to 
 disgrace ; but the ddemma was put an end to by the 
 sudden appearance on the scene of Captain Eichard 
 himself, demanding the cause of the disturbance, and 
 whether his sons had been misbehaving to their guest. 
 
 " Dear sir, sweet father, do not ask," entreated Cis, 
 springing to him, and taking his hand, as she was 
 privdeged to do ; " mother has come, and it is all made 
 up and over now." 
 
 Eichard Talbot, however, had seen the packet
 
 78 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 which his wife w T as holding, and her anxious, perplexed 
 countenance, and the perilous atmosphere of suspicion 
 around him made it incumbent on him to turn to her 
 and say, "What means this, mother? Is it as Cis 
 would have me believe, a mere childish quarrel that I 
 may pass over ? or what is this packet ?" 
 
 " Master Babington saith it is a dog- whistle which 
 he was leaving in charge with Cis to exchange for 
 another with Huckstress Tibbott," she answered. 
 
 " Feel, — nay, open it, and see if it be not, sir," 
 cried Antony. 
 
 " I doubt not that so it is," said the captain ; " but 
 you know, Master Babington, that it is the duty of all 
 here in charge to let no packet pass the gate which 
 has not been viewed by my lord's officers." 
 
 "Then, sir, I will take it back again," said Antony, 
 with a vain attempt at making his brow frank and 
 clear. 
 
 Instead of answering, Captain Talbot took the 
 knife from his girdle, and cut in twain the yarn that 
 bound the packet. There was no doubt about the 
 whistle being there, nor was there anything written on 
 the wrapper ; but perhaps the anxiety in Antony's eye, 
 or even the old association with boatswains, incited 
 Mr. Talbot to put the whistle to his lips. Not a 
 sound would come forth. He looked in, and saw what 
 led him to blow with all his force, when a white roll 
 of paper protruded, and on another blast fell out into 
 his hand. 
 
 He held it up as he found it, and looked full at 
 Antony, who exclaimed in much agitation, "To keep 
 out the dust. Only to keep out the dust. It is all 
 gibberish — from my old writing-books." 
 
 "That will we see," said Eichard very gravely.
 
 VI.] THE BEWITCHED WHISTLE. 79 
 
 "Mistress, be pleased to give this young gentleman 
 some water to wash his face, and attend to his bruises, 
 keeping him in the guest-chamber without speech 
 from any one until I return. Master Babington, I 
 counsel you to submit quietly. I wish, and my Lord 
 will wish, to spare his ward as much scandal as pos- 
 sible, and if this be what you say it is, mere gibberish 
 from your exercise-books, you will be quit for chastise- 
 ment for a forbidden act, which has brought you into 
 suspicion. If not, it must be as my Lord thinks good." 
 
 Antony made no entreaties. Perhaps he trusted 
 that what was unintelligible to himself might pass for 
 gibberish with others ; perhaps the headache caused 
 by Humfrey's fists was assisting to produce a state of 
 sullen indifference after his burst of eager chivalry; at 
 any rate he let Mistress Talbot lead him away without 
 resistance. The other children would have followed, 
 but their father detained them to hear the particulars 
 of the commission and the capture. Eichard desired 
 to know from his son whether he had any reason for 
 suspecting underhand measures ; and when Humfrey 
 looked down and hesitated, added, " On your obedience, 
 boy; this is no slight matter." 
 
 " You will not beat Cis, father ? " said Humfrey. 
 
 "Wherefore should I beat her, save for doing 
 errands that yonder lad should have known better 
 than to thrust on her ?" 
 
 " Xay, sir, 'tis not for that ; but my mother said 
 she should be beaten if ever she spake of the fortune 
 yonder Tibbott told her, and we are sure that she — 
 Tibbott I mean — is a witch, and knows more than she 
 ought." 
 
 " What mean'st thou ? Tell me, children ; " and 
 Cis, nothing loath, since she was secured from the
 
 80 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 beating, related the augury which had left so deep 
 an impression on her, Hunifrey bearing witness that it 
 was before they knew themselves of Cicely's history. 
 
 " But that is not all," added Cicely, seeing Mr. 
 Talbot less impressed than she expected by these 
 supernatural powers of divination. " She can change 
 from a woman to a man !" 
 
 "In sooth !" exclaimed Eichard, startled enough by 
 this information. 
 
 "Yea, father," said Cicely, "Faithful Ekins, the 
 carrier's boy, saw her, in doublet and hose, and a 
 tawny cloak, going along the road to Chesterfield. He 
 knew her by the halt in her left leg." 
 
 "Ha!" said Eichard, "and how long hast thou 
 known this ?" 
 
 " Only yestermorn," said Cis ; " it was that which 
 made me so much afraid to have any dealings with 
 her." 
 
 " She shall trouble thee no more, my little wench," 
 said Eichard in a tone that made Humfrey cry out 
 .joyously, 
 
 " lather ! sweet father ! wilt thou duck her for a 
 witch ? Sink or swim ! that will be rare ! " 
 
 "Hush, hush! foolish lad," said Eichard, "and thou, 
 Cicely, take good heed that not a word of all this gets 
 abroad. Go to thy mother, child, — nay, I am not 
 wroth with thee, little one. Thou hast not done amiss, 
 but bear in mind that nought is ever taken out of the 
 park without knowledge of me or of thy mother."
 
 vilJ the blast of the whistle. 81 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE BLAST OF THE WHISTLE 
 
 Eichaed Talbot was of course convinced that witch- 
 craft was not likely to be the most serious part of the 
 misdeeds of Tibbott the huckstress. Committing 
 Antony Babington to the custody of his wife, he sped 
 on his way back to the Manor-house, where Lord 
 Shrewsbury was at present residing, the Countess 
 being gone to view her buildings at Chatsworth, tak- 
 ing her daughter Bessie with her. He sent in a 
 message desiring to speak to my lord in his privy 
 chamber. 
 
 Francis Talbot came to him. " Is it matter of great 
 moment, Dick?" he said, "for my father is so fretted 
 and chafed, I would fain not vex him further to-night. 
 — What ! know you not ? Here are tidings that my 
 lady hath married Bess — yes, Bess Cavendish, in 
 secret to my young Lord Lennox, the brother of this 
 Queen's unlucky husband ! How he is to clear himself 
 before her Grace of being concerned in it, I know not, 
 for though Heaven wots that he is as innocent as the 
 child unborn, she will suspect him !" 
 
 " I knew she flew high for Mistress Bess," returned 
 Bichard. 
 
 " High ! nothing would serve her save royal blood ! 
 
 VOL. L G
 
 82 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 My poor father says as sure as the lions and fleur- 
 de-lis have come into a family, the headsman's axe has 
 come after them." 
 
 " However it is not our family." 
 
 " So I tell him, but it gives him small comfort," said 
 Frank, " looking as he doth on the Cavendish brood as 
 his own, and knowing that there will be a mighty coil 
 at once with my lady and these two queens. He is 
 sore vexed to-night, and saith that never was Earl, not 
 to say man, so baited by woman as he, and he bade 
 me see whether yours be a matter of such moment 
 that it may not wait till morning or be despatched by 
 me." 
 
 " That is for you to say, Master Francis. What 
 think you of this for a toy?" as he produced the parcel 
 with the whistle and its contents. "I went home 
 betimes to-day, as you know, and found my boy 
 Humfrey had just made young Master Babington 
 taste of his fists for trying to make our little wench 
 pass this packet to yonder huckster -woman who was 
 succoured some months back by the Queen of Scots." 
 
 Francis Talbot silently took the whistle and un- 
 rolled the long narrow strip of paper. "This is the 
 cipher," said he, "the cipher used in corresponding 
 with her French kin ; Phillipps the decipherer showed 
 me the trick of it when he was at Tutbury in the time 
 of the Duke of Norfolk's business. Soh ! your son 
 hath done good service, Eichard. That lad hath been 
 tampered with then, I thought he was over thick with 
 the lady in the lodge. Where is he, the young 
 traitor?" 
 
 " At Bridgefield, under my wife's ward, having his 
 bruises attended to. I would not bring him up here till 
 I knew what my Lord would have done with him. He
 
 VII.] THE BLAST OF THE WHISTLE. 83 
 
 is but a child, and no doubt was wrought with by 
 sweet looks, and I trust my Lord will not be hard 
 with him." 
 
 " If my father had hearkened to me, he should never 
 have been here," said Francis. " His father was an 
 honest man, but his mother was, I find, a secret 
 recusant, and when she died, young Antony was 
 quite old enough to have sucked in the poison. You 
 did well to keep him, Eichard ; he ought not to return 
 hither again, either in ward or at liberty." 
 
 " If he were mine, I would send him to school," said 
 Eichard, " where the masters and the lads would soon 
 drive out of him all dreams about captive princesses 
 and seminary priests to boot. For, Cousin Francis, I 
 would have you to know that my children say there is 
 a rumour that this woman Tibbott the huckstress hath 
 been seen in a doublet and hose near Chesterfield." 
 
 fC The villain ! When is she looked for here again ? " 
 
 " Anon, I should suppose, judging by the boy leav- 
 ing this charge with Cis in case she should come while 
 he is gone to Chatsworth." 
 
 " We will take order as to that," said Francis, com- 
 pressing his lips ; " I know you will take heed, cousin, 
 that she, or he, gets no breath of warning. I should 
 not wonder if it were Parsons himself ! " and he un- 
 folded the scroll with the air of a man seeking to 
 confirm his triumph. 
 
 " Can you make anything of it ?" asked Eichard, 
 struck by its resemblance to another scroll laid up 
 among his wife's treasures. 
 
 " I cannot tell, they are not matters to be read in 
 an hour," said Francis Talbot, " moreover, there is one 
 in use for the English traitors, her friends, and another 
 for the French. This looks like the French sort. Let
 
 84 UNKNOWN TO HISTOEY. [CHAP. 
 
 me see, they are read by taking the third letter in each 
 second word." Francis Talbot, somewhat proud of his 
 proficiency, and perfectly certain of the trustworthiness 
 of his cousin Eichard, went on puzzling out the ciphered 
 letters, making Eichard set each letter down as he 
 picked it out, and trying whether they would make 
 sense in French or English. Both understood French, 
 having learned it in their page days, and kept it up by 
 intercourse with the French suite. Francis, however, 
 had to try two or three methods, which, being a young 
 man, perhaps he was pleased to display, and at last 
 he hit upon the right, which interpreted the apparent 
 gibberish of the scroll — excepting that the names of 
 persons were concealed under soubriquets which 
 Francis Talbot could not always understand — but 
 the following sentence by and by became clear : — 
 " Quand le matelot vient des marais, un feu pent 
 eclater dans la meute et dans la meUe " — K When the 
 sailor lands from the fens, a fire might easily break 
 out in the dog -kennel, and in the confusion '* 
 (name could not be read) " could carry off the tercel 
 gentle." 
 
 "La meute" said Francis, "that is their term for 
 the home of us Talbots, and the sailor in the fens is 
 this Don John of Austria, who means, after conquering 
 the Dutchmen, to come and set free this tercel gentle, 
 as she calls herself, and play the inquisitor upon us. 
 On my honour, Dick, your boy has played the man in 
 making this discovery. Keep the young traitor fast, 
 and take down a couple of yeomen to lay hands on 
 this same Tibbott as she calls herself." 
 
 "If I remember right," said Eichard, "she was 
 said to be the sister or aunt to one of the grooms or 
 prickers."
 
 VII.] THE BLAST OF THE WHISTLE. 85 
 
 " So it was, Guy Norman, methinks. Belike he 
 was the very fellow to set fire to our kennel. Yea, 
 we must secure him. I'll see to that, and you shall 
 lay this scroll before my father meantime, Dick. Why, 
 to fall on such a trail will restore his spirits, and win 
 back her Grace to believe in his honesty, if my lady's 
 tricks should have made her doubtful." 
 
 Off went Francis with great alacrity, and ere long 
 the Earl was present with Eichard. The long light 
 beard was now tinged with gray, and there were deep 
 lines round the mouth and temples, betraying how the 
 long anxiety was telling on him, and rendering him 
 suspicious and querulous. " Soh ! Eichard Talbot," 
 was his salutation, " what's the coil now ? Can a man 
 never be left in peace in his own house, between 
 queens and ladies, plots and follies, but his own kins- 
 folk and retainers must come to him on every petty 
 broil among the lads ! I should have thought your 
 boy and young Babington might fight out their quarrels 
 alone without vexing a man that is near driven dis- 
 tracted as it is." 
 
 " I grieve to vex your lordship," said Eichard, 
 standing bareheaded, " but Master Francis thought this 
 scroll worthy of your attention. This is the manner 
 in which he deciphered it." 
 
 " Scrolls, I am sick of scrolls," said the Earl testily. 
 " What ! is it some order for saying mass, — or to get 
 some new Popish image or a skein of silk ? I wear 
 my eyes out reading such as that, and racking my 
 brains for some hidden meaning !" 
 
 And failing on Francis's first attempt at copying, 
 he was scornful of the whole, and had nearly thrown 
 the matter aside, but when he lit at last on the sen- 
 tence about burning the meute and carrying off the
 
 86 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAR 
 
 tercel gentle, his brow grew dark indeed, and his 
 inquiries came thickly one upon the other, both as to 
 Antony Babington and the huckstering woman. 
 
 In the midst, Frank Talbot returned with the 
 tidings that the pricker Guy Norman was nowhere 
 to be found. He had last been seen by his comrades 
 about the time that Captain Eichard had returned to 
 the Manor-house. Probably he had taken alarm on 
 seeing him come back at that unusual hour, and had 
 gone to carry the warning to his supposed aunt. This 
 last intelligence made the Earl decide on going down at 
 once to Bridgefield to examine young Babington before 
 there was time to miss his presence at the lodge, or 
 to hold any communication with him. Frank caused 
 horses to be brought round, and the Earl rode down with 
 Eichard by a shaded alley in an ordinary cloak and hat. 
 
 My Lord's appearance at Bridgefield was a rarer 
 and more awful event than was my Lady's, and if 
 Mistress Susan had been warned beforehand, there is 
 no saying how at the head of her men and maids she 
 would have scrubbed and polished the floors, and 
 brushed the hangings and cushions. What then were 
 her feelings when the rider, who dismounted from his 
 little hackney as unpretendingly as did her husband 
 in the twilight court, proved to have my Lord's long 
 beard and narrow face ! 
 
 Curtseying her lowest, and with a feeling of con- 
 sternation and pity as she thought of the orphan boy, 
 she accepted his greeting with duteous welcome as he 
 said, " Kinswoman, I am come to cumber you, whilst 
 I inquire into this matter. I give your son thanks 
 for the honesty and faithfulness he hath shown in the 
 matter, as befitted his father's son. I should wish 
 myself to examine the springald."
 
 VII.] THE BLAST OF THE WHISTLE. 87 
 
 Humfrey was accordingly called, and, privately 
 admonished by his father that he must not allow any 
 scruples about bringing his playmate into trouble to 
 lead him to withhold his evidence, or shrink from 
 telling the whole truth as he knew it, Humfrey 
 accordingly stood before the Earl and made his replies 
 a little sullenly but quite straightforwardly. He had 
 prevented the whistle from being given to his sister 
 for the huckstress because the woman was a witch, 
 who frightened her, and moreover he knew it was 
 against rules. Did he suspect that the whistle came 
 from the Queen of Scots ? 
 
 He looked startled, and asked if it were so indeed, 
 and when again commanded to say why he had 
 thought it possible, he replied that he knew Antony 
 thought the Queen of Scots a fair and gracious lady. 
 
 Did he believe that Antony ever had communica- 
 tion with her or her people unheard by others ? 
 
 " Assuredly ! Wherefore not, when he carried my 
 Lady Countess's messages ?" 
 
 Lord Shrewsbury bent his brow, but did not further 
 pursue this branch of the subject, but demanded of 
 Humfrey a description of Tibbott, huckster or witch, 
 man or woman. 
 
 " She wears a big black hood and muffler," said 
 Humfrey, " and hath a long hooked stick." 
 
 " I asked thee not of her muffler, boy, but of her 
 person." 
 
 "She hath pouncet boxes and hawks' bells, and 
 dog-whistles in her basket," proceeded Humfrey, but 
 as the Earl waxed impatient, and demanded whether 
 no one could give him a clearer account, Eichard bade 
 Humfrey call his mother. 
 
 She, however, could say nothing as to the woman's
 
 88 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 appearance. She had gone to Norman's cottage to offer 
 her services after the supposed accident, but had been 
 told that the potticary of the Queen of Scots had 
 undertaken her cure, and had only seen her huddled 
 up in a heap of rags, asleep. Since her recovery the 
 woman had been several times at Bridgefield, but it 
 had struck the mistress of the house that there was 
 a certain avoidance of direct communication with her, 
 and a preference for the servants and children. This 
 Susan had ascribed to fear that she should be warned 
 off for her fortune-telling propensities, or the children's 
 little bargains interfered with. All she could answer 
 for was that she had once seen a huge pair of grizzled 
 eyebrows, with light eyes under them, and that the 
 woman, if woman she were, was tall, and bent a good 
 deal upon a hooked stick, which supported her limping 
 steps. Cicely could say little more, except that the 
 witch had a deep awesome voice, like a man, and a 
 long nose terrible to look at. Indeed, there seemed to 
 have been a sort of awful fascination about her to all 
 the children, who feared her yet ran after her. 
 
 Antony was then sent for. It was not easy to 
 judge of the expression of his disfigured countenance, 
 but when thus brought to bay he threw off all tokens 
 of compunction, and stood boldly before the Earl. 
 
 " So, Master Babington, I find you have been be- 
 traying the trust I placed in you " 
 
 " What trust, my Lord ?" said Antony, his bright 
 blue eyes looking back into those of the nobleman. 
 
 " The cockerel crows loud," said the Earl. " What 
 trust, quotha ! Is there no trust implied in the com- 
 ing and going of one of my household, when such a 
 charge is committed to me and mine ?" 
 
 " No one ever gave me any charge," said Antony.
 
 VII.] THE BLAST OF THE WHISTLE. 89 
 
 "Dost thou bandy words, thou fro ward imp ?" said 
 the Earl. " Thou hast not the conscience to deny that 
 there was no honesty in smuggling forth a letter thus 
 hidden. Deny it not. The treasonable cipher hath 
 been read !" 
 
 " I knew nought of what was in it," said the boy. 
 
 " I believe thee there, but thou didst know that it 
 was foully disloyal to me and to her Majesty to bear 
 forth secret letters to disguised traitors. I am willing 
 to believe that the smooth tongue which hath deluded 
 many a better man than thou hath led thee astray, 
 and I am willing to deal as lightly with thee as may 
 be, so thou wilt tell me openly all thou knowest of 
 this infamous plot." 
 
 " I know of no plot, sir." 
 
 " They would scarce commit the knowledge to the 
 "like of him," said Eichard Talbot. 
 
 " May be not," said Lord Shrewsbury, looking at 
 him with a glance that Antony thought contemptuous, 
 and which prompted him to exclaim, " And if I did 
 know of one, you may be assured I would never betray 
 it were I torn with wild horses." 
 
 " Betray, sayest thou !" returned the Earl. " Thou 
 hast betrayed my confidence, Antony, and hast gone as 
 far as in thee lies to betray thy Queen." 
 
 "My Queen is Mary, the lawful Queen of us all," 
 replied Antony, boldly. 
 
 " Ho ! Sayest thou so ? It is then as thou didst 
 trow, cousin, the foolish lad hath been tampered with 
 by \he honeyed tongue. I need not ask thee from whom 
 thou hadst this letter, boy. We have read it and 
 know the foul treason therein. Thou wilt never return 
 to the castle again, but for thy father's sake thou shalt 
 be dealt with less sternly, if thou wilt tell who this
 
 90 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAR 
 
 woman is, and how many of these toys thou hast given 
 to her, if thou knowest who she is." 
 
 But Antony closed his lips resolutely. In fact, 
 Eichard suspected him of being somewhat nattered by 
 being the cause of such a commotion, and actually 
 accused of so grand and manly a crime as high treason. 
 The Earl could extract no word, and finally sentenced 
 him to remain at Bridgefield, shut up in his own 
 chamber till he could be dealt with. The lad walked 
 away in a dignified manner, and the Earl, holding up 
 his hands, half amused, half vexed, said, " So the spell 
 is on that poor lad likewise. What shall I do with 
 him ? An orphan boy too, and mine old friend's son." 
 
 "With your favour, my Lord," said Bichard, "I 
 should say, send him to a grammar school, where 
 among lads of his own age, the dreams about captive 
 princesses might be driven from him by hard blows 
 and merry games." 
 
 "That may scarce serve," said the Earl rather severely, 
 for public schools were then held beneath the dignity of 
 both the nobility and higher gentry. " I may, however, 
 send him to study at Cambridge under some trusty 
 pedagogue. Back at the castle I cannot have him, so 
 must I cumber you with him, my good kinswoman, 
 until his face have recovered your son's lusty chastise- 
 ment. Also it may be well to keep him here till we 
 can lay hands on this same huckster -woman, since 
 there may be need to confront him with her. It were 
 best if you did scour the country toward Chesterfield 
 for her, while Frank went to York." 
 
 Having thus issued his orders, the Earl took a 
 gracious leave of the lady, mounted his horse, and 
 rode back to Sheffield, dispensing with the attendance 
 of his kinsman, who had indeed to prepare for an early
 
 VII.] THE BLAST OF THE WHISTLE. 91 
 
 start the next morning, when he meant to take 
 Hiimfrey with him, as not unlikely to recognise the 
 woman, though he could not describe her. 
 
 " The boy merits well to go forth with me," said 
 he. " He hath done yeoman's service, and proved 
 himself staunch and faithful." 
 
 "Was there matter in that scroll ?" asked Susan. 
 
 " Only such slight matter as burning down the 
 Talbots' kennel, while Don John of Austria is landing 
 on the coast." 
 
 " God forgive them, and defend us !" sighed Susan, 
 turning pale. " Was that in the cipher ? " 
 
 " Ay, in sooth, but fear not, good wife. Much is 
 purposed that ne'er comes to pass. I doubt me if the 
 ship be built that is to carry the Don hither." 
 
 " I trust that Antony knew not of the wickedness ?" 
 
 " Not he. His is only a dream out of the romances 
 the lads love so well, of beauteous princesses to be 
 freed, and the like." 
 
 "But the woman!" 
 
 " Yea, that lies deeper. What clidst thou say of 
 her ? Wherefore do the children call her a witch ? Is 
 it only that she is grim and ugly?" 
 
 " I trow there is more cause than that," said Susan. 
 " It may be that I should have taken more heed to 
 their babble at first ; but I have questioned Cis while 
 you were at the lodge, and I find that even before 
 Mate Goatley spake here, this Tibbott had told the 
 child of her being of lofty race in the north, alien to 
 the Talbots' kennel, holding out to her presages of 
 some princely destiny." 
 
 "That bodeth ill!" said Richard, thoughtfully. 
 " Wife, my soul misgives me that the hand of 
 Cuthbert Langston is in this."
 
 92 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAR 
 
 Susan started. The idea chimed in with Tibbott's 
 avoidance of her scrutiny, and also with a certain 
 vague sense she had had of having seen those eyes 
 before. So light-complexioned a man would be easily 
 disguised, and the halt was accounted for by a report 
 that he had had a bad fall when riding to join in the 
 Eising in the North. Nor could there now be any 
 doubt that he was an ardent partisan of the imprisoned 
 Mary, while Eichard had always known his inclination 
 to intrigue. She could only agree with her husband's 
 opinion, and ask what he would do. 
 
 "My duty must be done, kin or no kin," said 
 Eichard, " that is if I find him ; but I look not to do 
 that, since Norman is no doubt off to warn him." 
 
 " I marvel whether he hath really learnt who our 
 Cis can be?" 
 
 " Belike not ! The hint would only have been 
 thrown out to gain power over her." 
 
 " Said you that you read the cipher ?" 
 
 " Master Frank did so." 
 
 "Would it serve you to read our scroll?" 
 
 " Ah, woman ! woman ! Why can thy kind never 
 let well alone ? I have sufficient on my hands without 
 reading of scrolls !" 
 
 Humfrey's delight was extreme when he found that 
 he was to ride forth with his father, and half-a-dozen 
 of the earl's yeomen, in search of the supposed witch. 
 They traced her as far as Chesterfield ; but having met 
 the carrier's waggon on the way, they carefully 
 examined Faithful Ekins on his report, but all the 
 youth was clear about was the halt and the orange 
 tawny cloak, and after entering Chesterfield, no one 
 knew anything of these tokens. There was a large 
 village belonging to a family of recusants, not far off,
 
 VII.] THE BLAST OF THE WHISTLE. 93 
 
 where the pursuers generally did lose sight of suspicious 
 persons; and, perhaps, Eichard was relieved, though 
 his son was greatly chagrined. 
 
 The good captain had a sufficient regard for his 
 kinsman to be unwilling to have to unmask him as a 
 traitor, and to be glad that he should have effected an 
 escape, so that, at least, it should be others who should 
 detect him — if Langston indeed it were. 
 
 His next charge was to escort young Babington to 
 Cambridge, and deliver him up to a tutor of his lord- 
 ship's selection, who might draw the Popish fancies out 
 of him. 
 
 Meantime, Antony had been kept close to the 
 house and garden, and not allowed any intercourse 
 with any of the young people, save Humfrey, except 
 when the master or mistress of the house was present ; 
 but he did not want for occupation, for Master Snig- 
 gius came down, and gave him a long chapter of the 
 Book of Proverbs — chiefly upon loyalty, in the Septua- 
 gint, to learn by heart, and translate into Latin and 
 English as his Saturday's and Sunday's occupation, 
 under pain of a flogging, which was no light thing from 
 the hands of that redoubted dominie. 
 
 Young Babington was half - nattered and half- 
 frightened at the commotion he had excited. "Am I 
 going to the Tower?" he asked, in a low voice, awe- 
 stricken, yet not without a certain ring of self-import- 
 ance, when he saw his mails brought down, and was 
 bidden to put on his boots and his travelling dress. 
 
 And Captain Talbot had a cruel satisfaction in 
 replying, " JSTo, Master Babington ; the Tower is not 
 for refractory boys. You are going to your school- 
 master." 
 
 But where the school was to be Pdchard kept an
 
 94 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 absolute secret by special desire, in order that no com- 
 munication should be kept up through any of the 
 household. He was to avoid Chatsworth, and to return 
 as soon as possible to endeavour to trace the supposed 
 huckster-woman at Chesterfield. 
 
 When once away from home, he ceased to treat 
 young Babington as a criminal, but rode in a friendly 
 manner with him through lanes and over moors, till 
 the young fellow began to thaw towards him, and even 
 went so far as to volunteer one day that he would not 
 have brought Mistress Cicely into the matter if there 
 had been any other sure way of getting the letter 
 delivered in his absence. 
 
 "Ah, boy!" returned Eichard, "when once we 
 swerve from the open and direct paths, there is no saying 
 into what tangles we may bring ourselves and others." 
 
 Antony winced a little, and said, " Whoever says I 
 lied, lies in his throat." 
 
 "No one hath said thou wert false in word, but 
 how as to thy deed ? " 
 
 " Sir," said Antony, " surely when a high emprise 
 and great right is to be done, there is no need to halt 
 over such petty quibbles." 
 
 " Master Babington, no great right was ever done 
 through a little wrong. Depend on it, if you cannot 
 aid without a breach of trust, it is the sure sign that 
 it is not the will of God that you should be the one to 
 do it." 
 
 Captain Talbot mused whether he should convince 
 or only weary the lad by an argument he had once 
 heard in a sermon, that the force of Satan's temptation 
 to our blessed Lord, when showing Him all the king- 
 doms of the world, must have been the absolute and 
 immediate vanishing of all kinds of evil, by a voluntary
 
 VII.] THE BLAST OF THE WHISTLE. 95 
 
 abdication on the part of the Prince of this world, in- 
 stead not only of the coming anguish of the strife, but 
 of the long, long, often losing, battle which has been 
 waging ever since. Yet for this great achievement He 
 would not commit the moment's sin. He was just about 
 to begin when Antony broke in, " Then, sir, you do 
 deem it a great wrong ?" 
 
 " That I leave to wiser heads than mine," returned 
 the sailor. " My duty is to obey my Lord, his duty is 
 to obey her Grace. That is all a plain man needs to 
 see." 
 
 " But an if the true Queen be thus mewed up, sir ?" 
 asked Antony. Richard was too wise a man to threaten 
 the suggestion down as rank treason, well knowing that 
 thus he should never root it out. 
 
 " Look you here, Antony," he said ; " who ought 
 to reign is a question of birth, such as neither of us 
 can understand nor judge. But we know thus much, 
 that her Grace, Queen Elizabeth, hath been crowned and 
 anointed and received oaths of fealty as her due, and 
 that is quite enough for any honest man." 
 
 "Even when she keeps in durance the Queen, who 
 came as her guest in dire distress ?" 
 
 " Nay, Master Antony, you are not old enough to 
 remember that the durance began not until the Queen 
 of Scots tried to form a party for herself among the 
 English liegemen. And didst thou know, thou simple 
 lad, what the letter bore, which thou didst carry, and 
 what it would bring on this peaceful land ?" 
 
 Antony looked a little startled when he heard of 
 the burning of the kennel, but he averred that Don 
 John was a gallant prince. 
 
 " I have seen more than one gallant Spaniard under 
 whose power I ' should grieve to see any friend of mine."
 
 96 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 All the rest of the way Eichard Talbot entertained 
 the young gentleman with stories of his own voyages 
 and adventures, into which he managed to bring traits 
 of Spanish cruelty and barbarity as shown in the Low 
 Countries, such as, without actually drawing the 
 moral every time, might show what was to be ex- 
 pected if Mary of Scotland and Don John of Austria 
 were to reign over England, armed with the Inquisition. 
 Antony asked a good many questions, and when he 
 found that the captain had actually been an eye-witness 
 of the state of a country harried by the Spaniards, he 
 seemed a good deal struck. 
 
 " I think if I had the training of him I could make 
 a loyal Englishman of him yet," said Eichard Talbot 
 to his wife on his return. " But I fear me there is 
 % that in his heart and his conscience which will only 
 grow, while yonder sour-faced doctor, with whom I had 
 to leave him at Cambridge, preaches to him of the 
 perdition of Pope and Papists." 
 
 " If his mother were indeed a concealed Papist," 
 said Susan, " such sermons will only revolt the poor 
 child." 
 
 " Yea, truly. If my Lord wanted to make a plotter 
 and a Papist of the boy he could scarce find a better 
 means. I myself never could away with yonder lady's 
 blandishments. But when he thinks of her in con- 
 trast to yonder divine, it would take a stronger head 
 than his not to be led away. The best chance for 
 him is that the stir of the world about him may put 
 captive princesses out^of his head."
 
 VIII.] THE KEY OF THE CIPHEE. 07 
 
 CHAPTEE VIII. 
 
 THE KEY OF THE CIPHFJJ. 
 
 "Where is the man who does not persuade himself that 
 when he gratifies his own curiosity he does so for the 
 sake of his womankind ? So Eichard Talbot, having 
 made his protest, waited two days, but when next he 
 had any leisure moments before him, on a Sunday 
 evening, he said to his wife, " Sue, what hast thou done 
 with that scroll of Cissy's ? I trow thou wilt not rest 
 till thou art convinced it is but some lying horoscope 
 -or Popish charm." 
 
 Susan had in truth been resting in perfect quiet- 
 ness, being extremely busy over her spinning, so as to 
 be ready for the weaver who came round periodically 
 to direct the more artistic portions of domestic work 
 However, she joyfully produced the scroll from the 
 depths of the casket where she kept her chief treasures, 
 and her spindle often paused in its dance as she watched 
 her husband over it, with his elbows on the table and 
 his hands in his hair, from whence he only removed 
 them now and then to set down a letter or two by way 
 of experiment. She had to be patient, for she heard 
 nothing that night but that he believed it was French, 
 that the father of deceits himself might be puzzled 
 with the thing, and that she might as well ask him 
 vol. t. H
 
 98 UNKNOWN TO HISTOKY. [CHAP. 
 
 for his head at once as propose his consulting Master 
 Francis. 
 
 The next night he unfolded it with many a groan, 
 and would say nothing at all ; but he sat up late and 
 waked in early dawn to pore over it again, and on the 
 third day of study he uttered a loud exclamation of 
 dismay, but he ordered Susan off to bed in the midst, 
 and did not utter anything but a perplexed groan or 
 two when he followed her much later. 
 
 It was not till the next night that she heard any- 
 thing, and then, in the darkness, he began, " Susan, 
 thou art a good wife and a discreet woman." 
 
 Perhaps her heart leapt as she thought to herself, 
 " At last it is coming, I knew it would !" but she only 
 made some innocent note of attention. 
 
 " Thou hast asked no questions, nor tried to pry 
 into this unhappy mystery," he went on. 
 
 " I knew you would tell me what was fit for me to 
 hear," she replied. 
 
 " Fit ! It is fit for no one to hear ! Yet I needs 
 must take counsel with thee, and thou hast shown thou 
 canst keep a close mouth so far." 
 
 " Concerns it our Cissy, husband ?" 
 
 " Ay does it. Our Cissy, indeed ! What wouldst 
 say, Sue, to hear she was daughter to the lady 
 yonder." 
 
 " To the Queen of Scots ?" 
 
 " Hush ! hush !" fairly grasping her to hinder the 
 words from being uttered above her breath. 
 
 "And her father?" 
 
 " That villain, Bothwell, of course. Poor lassie, 
 she is ill fathered ! " 
 
 " You may say so. Is it in the scroll ? " 
 
 " Ay ! so far as I can unravel it ; but besides the
 
 VIII.] THE KEY OF THE CIPHER. 99 
 
 cipher no doubt much was left for the poor woman to 
 tell that was lost in the wreck." 
 
 And he went on to explain that the scroll was a 
 letter to the Abbess of Soissons, who was aunt to 
 Queen Mary, as was well known, since an open corre- 
 spondence was kept up through the French ambassador. 
 This letter said that " our trusty Alison Hepburn " 
 would tell how in secrecy and distress Queen Mary 
 had given birth to this poor child in Lochleven, and 
 how she had been conveyed across the lake while only 
 a few hours old, after being hastily baptized by the 
 name of Bride, one of the patron saints of Scotland. She 
 had been nursed in a cottage for a few weeks till the 
 Queen had made her first vain attempt to escape, after 
 which Mary had decided on sending her with her nurse 
 to Dumbarton Castle, whence Lord Fleniyng would 
 despatch her to France. The Abbess was implored to 
 shelter her, in complete ignorance of her birth, until 
 such time as her mother should resume her liberty and 
 her throne. " Or if," the poor Queen said, " I perish in 
 the hands of my enemies, you will deal with her as my 
 uncles of Guise and Lorraine think fit, since, should her 
 unhappy little brother die in the rude hands of yonder 
 traitors, she may bring the true faith back to both 
 realms."* 
 
 "Ah !" cried Susan, with a sudden gasp of dismay, as 
 she bethought her that the child was indeed heiress to 
 both realms after the young King of Scots. " But has 
 there been no quest after her? Do they deem her lost? " 
 
 " No doubt they do. Either all hands were lost in 
 the Bride of Dunbar, or if any of the crew escaped, 
 they would report the loss of nurse and child. The 
 few who know that the little one was born believe her 
 to have perished. None will ever ask for her. They
 
 100 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 deem that she has been at the bottom of the sea these 
 twelve years or more." 
 
 " And you would still keep the knowledge to our- 
 selves ?" asked his wife, in a tone of relief. 
 
 " I would I knew it not myself ! " sighed Eichard. 
 " Would that I could blot it out of my mind." 
 
 " It were far happier for the poor maid herself to 
 remain no one's child but ours," said Susan. 
 
 " In sooth it is ! A drop of royal blood is in these 
 days a mere drop of poison to them that have the ill 
 luck to inherit it. As my lord said the other day, it 
 brings the headsman's axe after it." 
 
 " And our boy Humfrey calls himself contracted 
 to her ! " 
 
 " So long as we let the secret die with us that can 
 do her no ill. Happily the wench favours not her 
 mother, save sometimes in a certain lordly carriage of 
 the head and shoulders. She is like enough to some 
 of the Scots retinue to make me think she must take 
 her face from her father, the villain, who, some one 
 told me, was beetle-browed and swarthy." 
 
 "Lives he still ?" 
 
 " So 'tis thought, but somewhere in prison in the 
 north. There have been no tidings of his death ; but 
 my Lady Queen, you'll remember, treats the marriage as 
 nought, and has made offer of herself for the misfortune 
 of the Duke of Norfolk, ay, and of this Don John, 
 and I know not whom besides." 
 
 " She would not have done that had she known 
 that our Cis was alive." 
 
 " Mayhap she would, mayhap not. I believe my- 
 self she would do anything short of disowning her 
 Popery to get out of prison ; but as matters stand I 
 doubt me whether Cis "
 
 VIII.] THE KEY OF THE CIPHER. 101 
 
 " The Lady Bride Hepburn," suggested Susan. 
 
 " Pshaw, poor child, I misdoubt me whether they 
 would own her claim even to that name." 
 
 " And they might put her in prison if they did," 
 said Susan. 
 
 " They would be sure to do so, sooner or later. 
 Here has my lord been recounting in his trouble about 
 my lady's fine match for her Bess, all that hath come 
 of mating with royal blood, the very least disaster 
 being poor Lady Mary Grey's ! Kept in ward for 
 life ! It is a cruel matter. I would that I had 
 known the cipher at first. Then she might either have 
 been disposed of at the Queen's will, or have been sent 
 safe to this nunnery at Soissons." 
 
 " To be bred a Papist ! Oh fie, husband ! " 
 
 " And to breed dissension in the kingdoms ! " added 
 her husband. " It is best so far for the poor maiden 
 herself to have thy tender hand over her than that of 
 any queen or abbess of them all." 
 
 " Shall we then keep all things as they are, and 
 lock this knowledge in our own hearts ?" asked Susan 
 hopefully. 
 
 " To that am I mightily inclined," said Eichard. 
 " Were it blazed abroad at once, thou and I might be 
 made out guilty of I know not what for concealing it ; 
 and as to the maiden, she would either be put in close 
 ward with her mother, or, what would be more likely, 
 had up to court to be watched, and flouted, and spied 
 upon, as were the two poor ladies — sisters to the Lady 
 Jane — ere they made their lot hopeless by marrying. 
 Nay, I have seen those who told me that poor Lady 
 Katherine was scarce worse bested in the Tower than 
 she was while at court." 
 
 " My poor Cis ! JSTo, no ! The only cause for which
 
 102 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 I could bear to yield her up would be the thought that 
 she would bring comfort to the heart of the poor 
 captive mother who hath the best right to her." 
 
 " Forsooth ! I suspect her poor captive mother 
 would scarce be pleased to find this witness to her ill- 
 advised marriage in existence." 
 
 " Nor would she be permitted to be with her." 
 
 " Assuredly not. Moreover, what could she do with 
 the poor child ? " 
 
 " Eear her in Popery/' exclaimed Susan, to whom 
 the word was terrible. 
 
 " Yea, and make her hand secure as the bait to 
 some foreign prince or some English traitor, who would 
 fain overthrow Queen and Church." 
 
 Susan shuddered. " Oh yes ! let us keep the poor 
 child to ourselves. I could not give her up to such 
 a lot as that. And it might imperil you too, my hus- 
 band. I should like to get up instantly and burn the 
 scroll." 
 
 " I doubt me whether that were expedient," said 
 Eichard. " Suppose it were in the course of providence 
 that the young King of Scots should not live, then would 
 this maid be the means of uniting the two kingdoms 
 in the true and Eeformed faith ! Heaven forefend that 
 he should be cut off, but meseemeth that we have no 
 right to destroy the evidence that may one day be a 
 precious thing to the kingdom at large." . 
 
 "No chance eye could read it even were it dis- 
 covered ?" said Susan. 
 
 " No, indeed. Thou knowest how I strove in vain 
 to read it at first, and even now, when Frank Talbot 
 unwittingly gave me the key, it was days before I could 
 fully read it. It will tell no tales, sweet wife, that 
 can prejudice any one, so we will let it be, even with
 
 VIII. J THE KEY OF THE CIPHER. 
 
 the baby clouts. So now to sleep, with no more 
 thoughts on the matter." 
 
 That was easy to say, but Susan lay awake long, 
 pondering over the wonder, and only slept to dream 
 strange, dreams of queens and princesses, ay, and 
 worse, for she finally awoke with a scream, thinking 
 her husband was on the scaffold, and that Humfrey 
 and Cis were walking up the ladder, hand in hand 
 with their necks bared, to follow him ! 
 
 There was no need to bid her hold her tongue. 
 She regarded the secret with dread and horror, and a 
 sense of something amiss which she could not quite 
 define, though she told herself she was only acting 
 in obedience to her husband, and indeed her judgment 
 went along- with his. 
 
 o 
 
 Often she looked at the unconscious Cis, studying 
 whether the child's parentage could be detected in her 
 features. But she gave promise of being of larger 
 frame than her mother, who had the fine limbs and 
 contour of her Lorraine ancestry, whereas Cis did. 
 as Eichard said, seem to have the sturdy outlines of 
 the Borderer race from whom her father came. She 
 was round-faced too, and sunburnt, with deep gray 
 eyes under black straight brows, capable of frowning 
 heavily. She did not look likely ever to be the 
 fascinating beauty which all declared her mother to 
 be — though those who saw the captive at Sheffield, 
 believed the charm to be more in indefinable space 
 than in actual features, — in a certain wonderful 
 smile and sparkle, a mixed pathos and archness which 
 seldom failed of its momentary effect, even upon 
 those who most rebelled against it. Poor little Cis, a 
 sturdy girl of twelve or thirteen, playing at ball with 
 little Xed on the terrace, and coming with tardy steps
 
 104 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 to her daily task of spinning, had little of the princess 
 about her ; and yet when she sat down, and the manage- 
 ment of distaff and thread threw her shoulders back, 
 there was something in the poise of her small head and 
 the gesture of her hand that forcibly recalled the Queen. 
 Moreover, all the boys around were at her beck and 
 call, not only Humfrey and poor Antony Babington, 
 but Cavendishes, Pierrepoints, all the young pages and 
 grandsons who dwelt at castle or lodge, and attended 
 Master Sniggius's school. Nay, the dominie himself, 
 though owning that Mistress Cicely promoted idleness 
 and inattention among his pupils, had actually 
 volunteered to come down to Bridgefield twice a week 
 himself to prevent her from forgetting her Lilly's gram- 
 mar and her Caesar's Commentaries, an attention with 
 which this young lady would willingly have dispensed. 
 Stewart, Lorraine, Hepburn, the blood of all com- 
 bined was a perilous inheritance, and good Susan 
 Talbot's instinct was that the young girl whom she 
 loved truly like her own daughter would need all the 
 more careful and tender watchfulness and training to 
 overcome any tendencies that might descend to her. 
 Pity increased her affection, and even while in ordinary 
 household life it was easy to forget who and what the 
 girl really was, yet Cis was conscious that she was 
 admitted to the intimacy and privileges of an elder 
 daughter, and made a companion and friend, while her 
 contemporaries at the Manor-house were treated as 
 children, and rated roundly, their fingers tapped with 
 fans, their shoulders even whipped, whenever they 
 transgressed. Cis did indeed live under equal re- 
 straint, but it was the wise and gentle restraint of 
 firm influence and constant watchfulness, which took 
 from her the wish to resist.
 
 IX.] UNQUIET. 105 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 UNQUIET. 
 
 Bridgefield was a peaceable household, and the castle 
 and manor beyond might envy its calm. 
 
 From the time of the marriage of Elizabeth Caven- 
 dish with the young Earl of Lennox all the shreds 
 of comfort which had remained to the unfortunate 
 Earl had vanished. Eirst he had to clear himself 
 before Queen Elizabeth from having been a consent- 
 ing party, and then he found his wife furious with 
 him at his displeasure at her daughter's aggrandise- 
 ment. Moreover, whereas she had formerly been 
 on terms of friendly gossiphood with the Scottish 
 Queen, she now went over to the Lennox side because 
 her favourite daughter had married among them ; and 
 it was evident that from that moment all amity 
 between her and the prisoner was at an end. 
 
 She was enraged that her husband would not at once 
 change his whole treatment of the Queen, and treat her 
 as such guilt deserved ; and with the illogical dulness 
 of a passionate woman, she utterly scouted and failed to 
 comprehend the argument that the unhappy Mary was, 
 to say the least of it, no more guilty now than when 
 she came into their keeping, and that to alter their de- 
 meanour towards her would be unjust and unreasonable.
 
 1 6 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP, 
 
 " My Lady is altogether beyond reason," said Captain 
 Talbot, returning one evening to his wife ; " neither 
 my Lord nor her daughter can do ought with her ; so 
 puffed up is she with this marriage ! Moreover, she is 
 hotly angered that young Babington should have been 
 sent away from her retinue without notice to her, and 
 demands our Humfrey in his stead as a page." 
 
 " He is surely too old for a page !" said his mother, 
 thinking of her tall well-grown son of fifteen. 
 
 " So said I," returned Eichard. " I had sooner it 
 were Diccon, and so I told his lordship." 
 
 Before Bichard could speak for them, the two boys 
 came in, eager and breathless. " Father !" cried Hum- 
 frey, " who think you is at Hull ? Why, none other 
 than your old friend and shipmate, Captain Frobisher !" 
 
 "Ha! Martin Frobisher! Who told thee, Hum- 
 frey r 
 
 " Faithful Ekins, sir, who had it from the Doncaster 
 carrier, who saw Captain Frobisher himself, and was 
 asked by him if you, sir, were not somewhere in 
 Yorkshire, and if so, to let you know that he will be 
 in Hull till May-day, getting men together for a voy- 
 age to the northwards, where there is gold to be had 
 for the picking — and if you had a likely son or two, 
 now was the time to make their fortunes, and show 
 them the world. He said, any way you might ride to 
 see an old comrade." 
 
 " A long message for two carriers," said Bichard Tal- 
 bot, smiling, "but Martin never was a scribe !" 
 
 " But, sir, you will let me go," cried Humfrey, 
 eagerly. " I mean, I pray you to let me go. Dear 
 mother, say nought against it," entreated the youth. 
 " Cis, think of my bringing thee home a gold bracelet 
 like mother's."
 
 I.X.J UNQUIET. 107 
 
 " "What," said his father, " when my Lady has just 
 craved thee for a page." 
 
 " A page ! " said Humfrey, with infinite contempt — 
 " to hear all their tales and bickerings, hold skeins of 
 silk, amble mincingly along galleries, be begged to bear 
 messages that may have more in them than one knows, 
 and be noted for a bear if one refuses." 
 
 The father and Cis laughed, the mother looked 
 unhappy. 
 
 " So Martin is at Hull, is he ? " said Eichard, mus- 
 ingly. " If my Lord can give me leave for a week or 
 fortnight, methinks I must ride to see the stout old 
 knave." 
 
 " And oh, sweet father ! prithee take me with you," 
 entreated Humfrey, " if it be only to come back again. 
 I have not seen the sea since we came here, and yet 
 the sound is in my ears as I fall asleep. I entreat 
 of you to let me come, good my father." 
 
 " And, good father, let me come," exclaimed Diccon ; 
 " I have never even seen the sea ! " 
 
 " And dear, sweet father, take me," entreated little 
 Ned 
 
 " Nay," cried Cis, " what should I do ? Here is 
 Antony Babington borne off to Cambridge, and you all 
 wanting to leave me." 
 
 "I'll come home better worth than he!" muttered 
 Humfrey, who thought he saw consent on his father's 
 brow, and drew her aside into the deep window. 
 
 " You'll come back a rude sailor, smelling of pitch 
 and tar, and Antony will be a well-bred, point-device 
 scholar, who will know how to give a lady his hand," 
 said the teasing girl. 
 
 And so the playful war was carried on, while the 
 father, having silenced and dismissed the two younger
 
 108 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 lads, expressed his intention of obtaining leave of 
 absence, if possible, from the Earl." 
 
 " Yea," he added to his wife, " I shall even let 
 Humfrey go with me. It is time he looked beyond 
 the walls of this place, which is little better than a 
 prison." 
 
 " And will yon let him go on this strange voyage ?" 
 she asked wistfully, " he, onr first-born, and our heir." 
 
 "For that, dame, remember his namesake, my 
 poor brother, was the one who stayed at home, I the one 
 to go forth, and here am I now !" The lad's words 
 may have set before thee weightier perils in yonder 
 park than he is like to meet among seals and bears 
 under honest old Martin." 
 
 " Yet here he has your guidance," said Susan. 
 
 " Who knows how they might play on his honour 
 as to talebearing ? Nay, good wife, when thou hast 
 thought it over, thou wilt see that far fouler shoals 
 and straits lie up yonder, than in the free open sea that 
 God Almighty made. Martin is a devout and godly 
 man, who hath matins and evensong on board each 
 day when the weather is not too foul, and looks well 
 that there be no ill-doings in his ship ; and if he have 
 a berth for thy lad, it will be a better school for him 
 than where two-thirds of the household are raging 
 against one another, and the third ever striving to 
 corrupt and outwit the rest. I am weary of it all ! 
 Would that I could once get into blue water again, 
 and leave it all behind ! " 
 
 "You will not! Oh! you will not!" implored 
 Susan. " Eemember, my dear, good lord, how you said 
 all your duties lay at home." 
 
 "I remember, my good housewife. Thou needst 
 not fear for me. But there is little time to spare. If
 
 IX.] UX QUIET. 100 
 
 I am to see mine old friend, I must get speech of my 
 Lord to-night, so as to be on horseback to-morrow. 
 Saddle me Brown Dumpling, boys." 
 
 And as the boys went off, persuading Cis, who went 
 coyly protesting that the paddock was damp, yet still 
 folio wine; after them, he added, " Yea, Sue, considering 
 all, it is better those two were apart for a year or so, 
 till we see better what is this strange nestling that we 
 have reared. Ay, thou art like the mother sparrow 
 that hath bred up a cuckoo and doteth on it, yet it 
 mateth not with her brood." 
 
 " It casteth them out," said Susan, " as thou art 
 doing now, by your leave, husband." 
 
 " Only for a flight, gentle mother," he answered, 
 " only for a flight, to prove meanwhile whether there 
 be the making of a simple household bird, or of a 
 hawk that might tear her mate to pieces, in yonder 
 nestling." 
 
 Susan was too dutiful a wife to say more, though 
 her motherly heart was wrung almost as much at the 
 implied distrust of her adopted daughter as by the 
 sudden parting with her first-born to the dangers of 
 the northern seas. She could better enter into her 
 husband's fears of the temptations of page life at Shef- 
 field, and being altogether a wife, " bonner and bough - 
 some," as her marriage vow held it, she applied herself 
 and Cis to the choosing of the shirts and the crimping 
 of the ruffs that were to appear in Hull, if, for there 
 was this hope at the bottom of her heart, my Lord might 
 refuse leave of absence to his " gentleman porter." 
 
 The hope was fallacious ; Eichard reported that my 
 Lord was so much relieved to find that he had detected 
 no fresh conspiracy, as to be willing to grant him a 
 fortnight's leave, and even had said with a sigh that
 
 110 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 he was in the right on't about his son, for Sheffield 
 was more of a school for plotting than for chivalry. 
 
 It was a point of honour with every good house- 
 wife to have a store of linen equal to any emergency, 
 and, indeed, as there were no washing days in the 
 winter, the stock of personal body -linen was at all 
 times nearly a sufficient outfit ; so the main of Hum- 
 frey's shirts were to be despatched by a carrier, in the 
 trust that they would reach him before the expedition 
 should sail. >. 
 
 There was then little to delay the father and son, 
 after the mother, with fast -gathering tears resolutely 
 forced back, had packed and strapped their mails, with 
 Cis's help, Humfrey standing by, booted and spurred, 
 and talking fast of the wonders he should see, and the 
 gold and ivory he should bring home, to hide the 
 qualms of home-sickness, and mother-sickness, he was 
 already beginning to feel ; and maybe to get Cis to 
 pronounce that then she should think more of him than 
 of Antony Babington with his airs and graces. Wist- 
 fully did the lad watch for some such tender assurance, 
 but Cis seemed all provoking brilliancy and teasing. 
 " She knew he would be back over soon. Oh no, he 
 would never go to sea ! She feared not. Mr. Frobisher 
 would have none of such awkward lubbers. More's 
 the pity. There would be some peace to get to do her 
 broidery, and leave to play on the virginals when he 
 was gone." 
 
 But when the horsemen had disappeared down the 
 avenue, Cis hid herself in a corner and cried as if her 
 heart would break. 
 
 She cried again behind the back of the tall settle 
 when the father came back alone, full of praises of 
 Captain Frobisher, his ship, and his company, and his
 
 IX. j UNQUIET. Ill 
 
 assurances that he would watch over Humfrey like his 
 own son. 
 
 Meantime the domestic storms at the park were 
 such that Master Eichard and his wife were not sorry 
 that the boy was not growing up in the midst of them, 
 though the Countess rated Susan severely for her 
 ingratitude. 
 
 Queen Elizabeth was of course much angered at the 
 Lennox match, and the Earl had to write letter after 
 letter to clear himself from any participation in bringing 
 it about. Queen Mary also wrote to clear herself of it, 
 and to show that she absolutely regretted it, as she had 
 small esteem for Bess Cavendish. Moreover, though 
 Lady Shrewsbury's friendship might not be a very 
 pleasant thing, it was at least better than her hostility. 
 However, she was not much at Sheffield. Not only 
 was she very angry with her husband, but Queen 
 Elizabeth had strictly forbidden the young Lord Lennox 
 from coming under the same roof with his royal sister- 
 in-law. He was a weakly youth, and his wife's health 
 failed immediately after her marriage, so that Lady 
 Shrewsbury remained almost constantly at Chatsworth 
 with her darling. 
 
 Gilbert Talbot, who was the chief peacemaker of the 
 family, went to and fro, wrote letters and did his best, 
 which would have been more effective but for Mary, his 
 wife, who, no doubt, detailed all the gossip of Sheffield at 
 Chatsworth, as she certainly amused Sheffield with 
 stories of her sister Bess as a royal countess full of 
 airs and humours, and her mother treating her, if not 
 as a queen, at least on the high road to become one, 
 and how the haughty dame of Shrewsbury ran will- 
 ingly to pick up her daughter's kerchief, and stood 
 over the fire stirring the posset, rather than let it fail
 
 112 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 to tempt the appetite which became more dainty by 
 being cossetted. 
 
 The difference made between Lady Lennox and her 
 elder sisters was not a little nettling to Dame Mary 
 Talbot, who held that some consideration was her due, 
 as the prond mother of the only grandson of the house 
 of Shrewsbury, little George, who was just able to be 
 put on horseback in the court, and say he was riding 
 to see " Lady Danmode," and to drink the health of 
 " Lady Danmode " at his meals. 
 
 Alas ! the little hope of the Talbots suddenly faded. 
 One evening after supper a message came down in 
 haste to beg for the aid of Mistress Susan, who, though 
 much left to the seclusion of Bridgefield in prosperous 
 days, was always a resource in trouble or difficulty. 
 Little George, then two and a half years old, had been 
 taken suddenly ill after a supper on marchpane and 
 plum broth, washed down by Christmas ale. Convul- 
 sions had come on, and the skill of Queen Mary's 
 apothecary had only gone so far as to bleed him. 
 Susan arrived only just in time to see the child breathe 
 his last sigh, and to have his mother, wild with 
 tumultuous clamorous grief, put into her hands for 
 such soothing and comforting as might be possible, and 
 the good and tender woman did her best to turn the 
 mother's thoughts to something higher and better than 
 the bewailing at one moment " her pretty boy," with a 
 sort of animal sense of bereavement, and the next 
 with lamentations over the honours to which he would 
 have succeeded. It was of little use to speak to her 
 of the eternal glories of which he was now secure, for 
 Mary Talbot's sorrow was chiefly selfish, and was con- 
 nected with the loss of her pre-eminence as parent to 
 the heir-male.
 
 IX.] UNQUIET. 113 
 
 However, the grief of those times was apt to expend 
 itself quickly, and when little George's coffin, smothered 
 under heraldic devices and funeral escutcheons, had 
 "been bestowed in the family vault, Dame Mary soon 
 revived enough to take a warm interest in the lords 
 who were next afterwards sent down to hold conferences 
 with the captive ; and her criticism of the fashion of their 
 ruffs and doublets was as animated as ever. Another 
 grief, however, soon fell upon the family. Lady Len- 
 nox's ailments proved to be no such trifles as her sisters 
 and sisters-in-law had been pleased to suppose, and 
 before the year was out, she had passed away from all 
 her ambitious hopes, leaving a little daughter. The 
 Earl took a brief leave of absence to visit his lady in 
 her affliction at Chatsworth, and to stand godfather te 
 the motherless infant. 
 
 " She will soon be fatherless, too," said Eichard 
 Talbot on his return to Bridgefield, after attending his 
 lord on this expedition. "My young Lord Lennox, 
 poor youth, is far gone in the wasting sickness, as well 
 as distraught with grief, and he could scarcely stand to 
 receive my Lord." 
 
 " Our poor lady !" said Susan, "it pities me to think 
 what hopes she had fixed upon that young couple whom 
 she had mated together." 
 
 " I doubt me whether her hopes be ended now," 
 quoth Eichard. " What think you she hath fixed on 
 as the name of the poor puling babe yonder ? They 
 have called her Arbel or Arabella." 
 
 " Arabella, say you ? I never heard such a name. 
 It is scarce Christian. Is it out of a romaunt ? " 
 
 " Better that it were. It is out of a pedigree. They 
 have got the whole genealogy of the house of Lennox 
 blazoned fair, with crowns and coronets and coats of 
 vol. i. i
 
 114 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 arms hung up in the hall at Chatsworth, going up on 
 the one hand through Sir iEneas of Troy, and on the 
 other hand through Woden to Adam and Eve ! Pass 
 for all before the Stewart line became Kings of Scots t 
 Well, it seems that these Lennox Stewarts sprang from 
 one Walter, who was son to King Robert II., and that 
 the mother of this same Walter was called Arnhild, or 
 as the Scots here call it Annaple, but the scholars have 
 made it into Arabella, and so my young lady is to be 
 called. They say it was a special fancy of the young 
 Countess's." 
 
 " So I should guess. My lady would fill her head 
 with such thoughts, and of this poor youth being next 
 of kin to the young Scottish king, and to our own 
 Queen." 
 
 " He is not next heir to Scotland even, barring a 
 little one we wot of, Dame Sue. The Hamiltons stand 
 between, being descended from a daughter of King 
 James I." 
 
 " So methought I had heard. Are they not Papists ?" 
 
 " Yea ! Ah ha, sweetheart, there is another of the 
 house of Hardwicke as fain to dreams of greatness for 
 her child as ever was the Countess, though she may 
 be more discreet in the telling of them." 
 
 " Ah me, dear sir, I dreamt not of greatness for 
 splendour's sake — 'twere scarce for the dear child's 
 happiness. I only thought of what you once said, 
 that she may be the instrument of preserving the true 
 religion." 
 
 " And if so, it can only be at a mighty cost !" said 
 her husband. 
 
 * Verily," said Susan, " glad am I that you sent our 
 Humfrey from her. Would that nought had ever 
 passed between the children !"
 
 IX.] UNQUIET. 115 
 
 " They were but children," said Eichard ; " and there 
 was no contract between them." 
 
 " I fear me there was what Humfrey will hold to, 
 or know good reason why," said his mother. 
 
 " And were the young King of Scots married and 
 father to a goodly heir, there is no reason he should 
 not hold to it," rejoined Eichard. 
 
 However Eichard was still anxious to keep his son 
 engaged at a distance from Sheffield. There was great 
 rejoicing and thankfulness when one of the many 
 messengers constantly passing between London and 
 Sheffield brought a packet from Humfrey, whose ship 
 had put into the Thames instead of the Humber. 
 
 The packet contained one of the black stones which 
 the science of the time expected to transmute into gold, 
 also some Esquimaux trinkets made of bone, and a few 
 shells. These were for the mother and Cis, and there 
 were also the tusks of a sea- elephant which Humfrey 
 would lay up at my Lord's London lodgings till his 
 father sent tidings what should be done with them, and 
 whether he should come home at once by sea to Hull, 
 or if, as he much desired to do, he might join an expe- 
 dition which was fitting out for the Spanish Main, where 
 he was assured that much more both of gold and hon- 
 our was to be acquired than in the cold northern seas, 
 where nothing was to be seen for the fog at most times, 
 and when it cleared only pigmies, with their dogs, white 
 bears, and seals, also mountains of ice bigger than any 
 church, blue as my lady's best sapphires, green as her 
 emeralds, sparkling as her diamonds, but ready to be 
 the destruction of the ships. 
 
 " One there was," wrote Humfrey, " that I could 
 have thought was no other than the City that the 
 blessed St. John saw descending from Heaven, so fair
 
 116 UNKNOWN TO HISTOEY. [CHAP. 
 
 was it to look on, but they cried out that it was rather 
 a City of Destruction, and when we had got out of the 
 current where it was bearing down on us, our noble 
 captain piped all hands up to prayers, and gave thanks 
 for our happy deliverance therefrom." 
 
 Susan breathed a thanksgiving as her husband read, 
 and he forbore to tell her of the sharks, the tornadoes, 
 and the fevers which might make the tropical seas more 
 perilous than the Arctic. No Elizabethan mariner had 
 any scruples respecting piracy, and so long as the cap- 
 tain was a godly man who kept up strict discipline on 
 board, Master Eichard held the quarterdeck to be a 
 much more wholesome place than the Manor-house, 
 and much preferred the humours of the ship to those 
 of any other feminine creature ; for, as to his Susan, he 
 always declared that she was the only woman who had 
 none. 
 
 So she accepted his decision, and saw the wisdom 
 of it, though her tender heart deeply felt the disap- 
 pointment. Tenderly she packed up the shirts which 
 she and Cis had finished, and bestrewed them with 
 lavender, which, as she said, while a tear dropped with 
 the gray blossoms, would bring the scent of home to 
 the boy. 
 
 Cis affected to be indifferent and offended. " Mas- 
 ter Humfrey might do as he chose. She did not care 
 if he did prefer pitch and tar, and whale blubber and 
 grease, to hawks and hounds, and lords and ladies. She 
 was sure she wanted no more great lubberly lads — with 
 a sly cut at Diccon — to tangle her silk, and torment 
 her to bait their hooks. She was well quit of any one 
 of them. 
 
 When Diccon proposed that she should write a 
 letter to Humfrey, she declared that she should do no
 
 IX.] UNQUIET. 117 
 
 such thing, since lie had never attempted to write to 
 her. In truth Diccon may have made the proposal 
 in order to obtain a companion in misfortune, since 
 Master Sniggius, emulous of the success of other tutors, 
 insisted on his writing to his brother in Latin, and the 
 unfortunate epistle of Ricardus to Onofredus was 
 revised and corrected to the last extremity, and as it 
 was allowed to contain no word unknown to Yirgilius 
 Maro, it could not have afforded much delectation to 
 the recipient. 
 
 But when Mrs. Susan had bestowed all the shirts 
 as neatly as possible, on returning to settle them for 
 the last time before wrapping them up for the messen- 
 ger, she felt something hard among them. It was a 
 tiny parcel wrapped in a piece of a fine kerchief, tied 
 round with a tress of dark hair, and within, Susan 
 knew by the feeling, a certain chess rook which had 
 been won by Cis when shooting at the butts a week 
 or two before.
 
 118 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 CHAPTEE X. 
 
 THE LADY AEBELL. 
 
 After several weary months of languishing, Charles 
 Stewart was saved from the miseries which seemed 
 the natural inheritance of his name by sinking into 
 his grave. His funeral was conducted with the 
 utmost magnificence, though the Earl of Shrewsbury 
 declined to be present at it, and shortly after, the 
 Countess intimated her purpose of returning to Sheffield, 
 bringing with her the little orphan, Lady Arabella 
 Stewart. Orders came that the best presence chamber in 
 the Manor-house should be prepared, the same indeed 
 where Queen Mary had been quartered before the 
 lodge had been built for her use. The Earl was 
 greatly perturbed. " Whom can she intend to bring ? " 
 he went about asking. " If it were the Lady Margaret, 
 it were as much as my head were worth to admit her 
 within the same grounds as this Queen." 
 
 " There is no love lost between the mother-in-law 
 and daughter-in-law," observed his son Gilbert in a 
 consolatory tone. 
 
 " Little good would that do to me, if once it came 
 to the ears of her Grace and the Lord Treasurer that 
 both had been my guests ! And if I had to close the 
 gates — though in no other way could I save my life
 
 X] THE LADY ARBELL. 119 
 
 and honour — your mother would never forget it. It 
 would be east up to me for ever. What think you, 
 daughter Talbot ? " 
 
 " Mayhap," said Dame Mary, " my lady mother 
 has had a hint to make ready for her Majesty herself, 
 who hath so often spoken of seeing the Queen of 
 Scots, and might think well to take her unawares." 
 
 This was a formidable suggestion. " Say you so," 
 eried the poor Earl, with an alarm his eye would never 
 have betrayed had Parma himself been within a march 
 of Sheffield, "then were we fairly spent. I am an 
 impoverished man, eaten out of house and lands as it 
 is, and were the Queen herself to come, I might take 
 at once to the beggar's bowl." 
 
 " But think of the honour, good my lord," cried 
 Mary. " Think of all Hallamshire coming to do her 
 homage. Oh, how I should laugh to hear the Mayor 
 stumbling over his address." 
 
 " Laugh, ay," growled the Earl ; " and how will 
 you laugh when there is not a deer left in the park, 
 nor an ox in the stalls ? " 
 
 " Xay, my Lord," interposed Gilbert, " there is no 
 fear of her Majesty's coming. That post from M. de 
 la Mauvissiere reported her at Greenwich only five 
 days back, and it would take her Majesty a far longer 
 time to make her progress than yonder fellow, who 
 will tell you himself that she had no thoughts of 
 moving." 
 
 " That might only be a feint to be the more sudden 
 with us," said his wife, actuated in part by the diversion 
 of alarming her father-in-law, and in part really fired 
 by the hope of such an effectual enlivenment of the 
 dulness of Sheffield. 
 
 They were all in full family conclave drawn up in
 
 120 UNKNOWN TO HISTOEY. [CHAP. 
 
 the hall for the reception, and Mistress Susan, who 
 could not bear to see the Earl so perplexed and 
 anxious, ventured to say that she was quite sure that 
 my Lady Countess would have sent warning forward 
 if indeed she were bringing home such a guest, and at 
 that moment the blare of trumpets announced that 
 the cavalcade was approaching. The start which the 
 Earl gave showed how much his nerves had become 
 affected by his years of custody. Up the long 
 avenue they came, with all the state with which 
 the Earl had conducted Qneen Mary to the lodge 
 before she was absolutely termed a prisoner. Hal- 
 berdiers led the procession, horse and foot seemed 
 to form it. The home party stood on the top of the 
 steps watching with much anxiety. There was a 
 closed litter visible, beside which Lady Shrewsbury, 
 in a mourning dress and hood, could be seen riding her 
 favourite bay palfrey. No doubt it contained the Lady 
 Margaret, Countess of Lennox ; and the unfortunate Earl, 
 forgetting all his stately dignity, stood uneasily moving 
 from leg to leg, and pulling his long beard, torn 
 between the instincts of hospitality and of loyal obedi- 
 ence, between fear of his wife and fear of the Queen. 
 
 The litter halted at the foot of the steps, the Earl 
 descended. All he saw was the round face of an 
 infant in its nurse's arms, and he turned to help his wife 
 from the saddle, but she waved him aside. " My son 
 Gilbert will aid me, my Lord," said she, " your devoir is 
 to the princess." 
 
 Poor Lord Shrewsbury, his apologies on his tongue, 
 looked into the litter, where he saw the well-known 
 and withered countenance of the family nurse. He also 
 beheld a buxom young female, whose dress marked her 
 as a peasant, but before he had time to seek further for
 
 X.] THE LADY ARBELL. 121 
 
 the princess, the tightly rolled chrysalis of a child was 
 thrust into his astonished arms, while the round face 
 puckered up instantly with terror at sight of his 
 bearded countenance, and he was greeted with a loud 
 yell. He looked helplessly round, and his lady was 
 ready at once to relieve him. " My precious ! My 
 sweetheart ! My jewel ! Did he look sour at her and 
 frighten her with his ugsome "beard ?" and the like 
 endearments common to Grandmothers in all ap;es. 
 
 "But where is the princess?" 
 
 " Where ? Where should she be but here ? Her 
 grandame's own precious, royal, queenly little darling !" 
 and as a fresh cry broke out, " Yes, yes ; she shall to 
 her presence chamber. Usher her, Gilbert." 
 
 " Bess's brat !" muttered Dame Mary, in ineffable 
 disappointment. 
 
 Curiosity and the habit of obedience to the Countess 
 carried the entire troop on to the grand apartments on 
 the south side, where Queen Mary had been lodged while 
 the fiction of her guestship had been kept up. Lady 
 Shrewsbury was all the time trying to hush the child, 
 who was quite old enough to be terrified by new faces 
 and new scenes, and who was besides tired and restless 
 in her swaddling bands, for which she was so nearly 
 too old that she had only been kept in them for greater 
 security upon the rough and dangerous roads. Great 
 was my lady's indignation on reaching the state 
 rooms on finding that no nursery preparations had 
 been made, and her daughter Mary, with a giggle 
 hardly repressed by awe of her mother, stood forth and 
 said, " Why, verily, my lady, we expected some great 
 dame, my Lady Margaret or my Lady Hunsdon at the 
 very least, when you spoke of a princess." 
 
 " And who should it be but one who has both the
 
 122 UNKNOWN TO HISTOKY. [CHAP. 
 
 royal blood of England and Scotland in her veins ? " 
 You have not saluted the child to whom you have the 
 honour to be akin, Mary ! On your knee, minion ; I 
 tell you she hath as good or a better chance of wearing 
 a crown as any woman in England." 
 
 " She hath a far better chance of a prison," 
 muttered the Earl, " if all this foolery goes on." 
 
 "What! What is that? What are you calling 
 these honours to my orphan princess ?" cried the lady, 
 but the princess herself here broke in with the lustiest 
 of squalls, and Susan, who was sorry for the child, 
 contrived to insert an entreaty that my lady would 
 permit her to be taken at once to the nursery chamber 
 that had been made ready for her, and let her there be 
 fed, warmed, and undressed at once. 
 
 There was something in the quality of Susan's voice 
 to which people listened, and the present necessity 
 overcame the Countess's desire to assert the dignity of 
 her granddaughter, so she marched out of the room 
 attended by the women, while the Earl and his sons 
 were only too glad to slink away — there is no other word 
 for it, their relief as to the expected visitor having been 
 exchanged for consternation of another description. 
 
 There was a blazing fire ready, and all the baby 
 comforts of the time provided, and poor little Lady 
 Arbell was relieved from her swathing bands, and 
 allowed to stretch her little limbs on her nurse's lap, 
 the one rest really precious to babes of all periods and 
 conditions — but the troubles were not yet over, for the 
 grandmother, glancing round, demanded, " Where is the 
 cradle inlaid with pearl ? Why was it not provided ? 
 Bring it here." 
 
 Now this cradle, carved in cedar wood and inlaid 
 with mother-of-pearl, had been a sponsor's gift to poor
 
 X.] THE LADY ARBELL. 123 
 
 little George, the first male heir of the Talbots, and it 
 was regarded as a special treasure by his mother, who 
 was both wounded and resentful at the demand, and 
 stood pouting and saying, " It was my son's. It is 
 mine." 
 
 " It belongs to the family. You," to two of the 
 servants, " fetch it here instantly !" 
 
 The ladies of Hardwicke race were not guarded in 
 temper or language, and Mary burst into passionate 
 tears and exclamations that Bess's brat should not 
 have her lost George's cradle, and flounced away to get 
 before the servants and lock it up. Lady Shrewsbury 
 would have sprung after her, and have made no scruple 
 of using her fists and nails even on her married 
 daughter, but that she was impeded by a heavy table, 
 and this gave time for Susan to throw herself before 
 her, and entreat her to pause. 
 
 " You, you, Susan Talbot ! You should know better 
 than to take the part of an undutiful, foul-tongued 
 vixen like that. Out of my way, I say !" and as 
 Susan, still on her knees, held the riding-dress, she 
 received a stinging box on the ear. But in her maiden 
 days she had known the weight of my lady's hand, and 
 without relaxing her hold, she only entreated : " Hear 
 me, hear me for a little space, my lady. Did you but 
 know how sore her heart is, and how she loved little 
 Master George !" 
 
 " That is no reason she should flout and miscall 
 her dead sister, of whom she was always jealous !" 
 
 " madam, she wept with all her heart for poor 
 Lady Lennox. It is not any evil, but she sets such 
 store by that cradle in which her child died — she 
 keeps it by her bed even now, and her woman told 
 me how, for all she seems gay and blithe by day,
 
 124 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 she weeps over it at night, as if her heart would 
 break." 
 
 Lady Shrewsbury was a little softened. " The 
 child died in it ?" she asked. 
 
 " Yea, madam. He had been on his father's knee, 
 and had seemed a little easier, and as if he might 
 sleep, so Sir Gilbert laid him down, and he did but 
 stretch himself out, shiver all over, draw a long breath, 
 and the pretty lamb was gone to Paradise !" 
 
 "You saw him, Susan ?" 
 
 " Yea, madam. Dame Mary sent for me, but none 
 could be of any aid where it was the will of Heaven 
 to take him." 
 
 " If I had been there," said the Countess, " I who 
 have brought up eight children and lost none, I should 
 have saved him ! So he died in yonder cedar cradle I 
 Well, e'en let Mary keep it. It may be that there is 
 infection in the smell of the cedar wood, and that the 
 child will sleep better out of it. It is too late to do 
 aught this evening, but to-morrow the child shall be 
 lodged as befits her birth, in the presence chamber." 
 
 "Ah, madam!" said Susan, "would it be well for 
 the sweet babe if her Majesty's messengers, who be so 
 often at the castle, were to report her so lodged ?" 
 
 " I have a right to lodge my grandchild where and 
 how I please in my own house." 
 
 " Yea, madam, that is most true, but you wot how 
 the Queen treats all who may have any claim to the 
 throne in future times ; and were it reported by any of 
 the spies that are ever about us, how royal honours 
 were paid to the little Lady Arbell, might she not be 
 taken from your ladyship's wardship, and bestowed with 
 those who would not show her such loving care ?" 
 
 The Countess would not show whether this had
 
 X.] THE LADY AEBELL. 12 5 
 
 any effect on her, or else some sound made by the 
 child attracted her. It was a puny little thing, and 
 she had a true grandmother's affection for it, apart 
 from her absurd pride and ambition, so that she was 
 glad to hold counsel over it with Susan, who had done 
 such justice to her training as to be, in her eyes, a 
 mother who had sense enough not to let her children 
 waste and die ; a rare merit in those days, and one 
 that Susan could not disclaim, though she knew that 
 it did not properly belong to her. 
 
 Cis had stood by all the time like a little statue, 
 for no one, not even young Lady Talbot, durst sit 
 down uninvited in the presence of Earl or Countess ; 
 but her black brows were bent, her gray eyes intent. 
 
 " Mother," she said, as they went home on their 
 quiet mules, " are great ladies always so rudely spoken 
 to one another ?" 
 
 " I have not seen many great ladies, Cis, and my 
 Lady Countess has always been good to me." 
 
 " Antony said that the Scots Queen and her ladies 
 never storm at one another like my lady and her 
 daughters." 
 
 " Open words do not always go deep, Cis," said the 
 mother. " I had rather know and hear the worst at 
 once." And then her heart smote her as she recol- 
 lected that she might be implying censure of the girl's 
 true mother, as well as defending wrath and passion, 
 and she added, " Be that as it may, it is a happy thing 
 to learn to refrain the tongue."
 
 126 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 CHAPTEE XL 
 
 QUEEN MARY'S PRESENCE CHAMBER. 
 
 The storm that followed on the instalment of the Lady 
 Arbell at Sheffield was the precursor of many more. 
 Her grandmother did sufficiently awake to the danger 
 of alarming the jealousy of Queen Elizabeth to submit 
 to leave her in the ordinary chambers of the children 
 of the house, and to exact no extraordinary marks of 
 respect towards the unconscious infant ; but there was 
 no abatement in the Countess's firm belief that an 
 English -born, English -bred child, would have more 
 right to the crown than any " foreign princes," as she 
 contemptuously termed the Scottish Queen and her 
 son. 
 
 Moreover, in her two years' intercourse with the- 
 elder Countess of Lennox, who was a gentle-tempered 
 but commonplace woman, she had adopted to the full 
 that unfortunate princess's entire belief in the guilt of 
 Queen Mary, and entertained no doubt that she had 
 been the murderer of Darnley. Old Lady Lennox 
 had seen no real evidence, and merely believed what 
 she was told by her lord, whose impeachment of Both- 
 well had been baffled by the Queen in a most 
 suspicious manner. Conversations with this lady had 
 entirely changed Lady Shrewsbury from the friendly
 
 xl] queen mary's presence chamber. 127 
 
 hostess of her illustrious captive, to be her enemy and 
 persecutor, partly as being convinced of her guilt, 
 partly as regarding her as an obstacle in the path of 
 little Arbell to the throne. So she not only refused 
 to pay her respects as usual to " that murtheress," but 
 she insisted that her husband should tighten the bonds 
 of restraint, and cut off all indulgences. 
 
 The Countess was one of the women to whom 
 argument and reason are impossible, and who was en- 
 tirely swayed by her predilections, as well as of so 
 imperious a nature as to brook no opposition, and to 
 be almost always able to sweep every one along with 
 her. 
 
 Her own sons always were of her mind, and her 
 daughters might fret and chafe, but were sure to take 
 part with her against every one else outside the Caven- 
 dish family. The idea of being kinsfolk to the future 
 Queen excited them all, and even Mary forgot her 
 offence about the cradle, and her jealousy of Bess, and 
 ranked herself against her stepfather, influencing her 
 husband, Gilbert, on whom the unfortunate Earl had 
 hitherto leant. On his refusal to persecute his un- 
 fortunate captive beyond the orders from the Court, 
 Bess of Harclwicke, emboldened by the support she 
 had gathered from her children, passionately declared 
 that it could only be because he was himself in love 
 with the murtheress. Lord Shrewsbury could not 
 help laughing a little at the absurdity of the idea, 
 whereupon my lady rose up in virtuous indignation, 
 calling her sons and daughters to follow her. 
 
 All that night, lights might have been seen flitting 
 about at the Manor-house, and early in the morning 
 bugles sounded to horse. A huge procession, consist- 
 ing of the Countess herself, and all her sons and
 
 128 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 daughters then at Sheffield, little Lady Arbell, and 
 the whole of their attendants, swept out of the gates 
 of the park on the way to Hardwicke. When Eichard 
 Talbot went up to fulfil his duties as gentleman porter 
 at the lodge the courts seemed well-nigh deserted, and 
 a messenger summoned him at once to the Earl, whom 
 he found in his bed-chamber in his morning gown 
 terribly perturbed. 
 
 "For Heaven's sake send for your wife, Eichard 
 Talbot !" he said. " It is her Majesty's charge that 
 some of mine household, or I myself, see this unhappy 
 Queen of Scots each day for not less than two hours, 
 as you well know. My lady has broken away, and 
 all her daughters, on this accursed fancy — yea, and 
 Gilbert too, Gilbert whom I always looked to to stand 
 by me ; I have no one to send. If I go and attend upon 
 her alone, as I have done a thousand times to my 
 sorrow, it will but give colour to the monstrous tale ; 
 but if your good wife, an honourable lady of the 
 Hardwicke kin, against whom none ever breathed a 
 word, will go and give the daily attendance, then can 
 not the Queen herself find fault, and my wife's heated 
 fancy can coin nothing suspicious. You must all come 
 up, and lodge here in the Manor-house till this tempest 
 be overpast. Oh, Eichard, Eichard ! will it last out 
 my life ? My very children are turned against me. 
 Go you down and fetch your good Susan, and take 
 order for bringing up your children and gear. Ben- 
 thall shall take your turn at the lodge. What are you 
 tarrying for ? Do you doubt whether your wife have 
 rank enough to wait on the Queen ? She should have 
 been a knight's lady long ago, but that I deemed you 
 would be glad to be quit of herald's fees ; your service 
 and estate have merited it, and I will crave license by
 
 xi.] queen mary's presence chamber. 129 
 
 to-day's courier from her Majesty to lay knighthood 
 on your shoulder." 
 
 " That was not what I thought of, my Lord, though 
 I humbly thank you, and would be whatever was best 
 for your Lordship's service, though, if it would serve 
 you as well, I would rather be squire than knight ; 
 but I was bethinking me how we should bestow our 
 small family. We have a young damsel at an age not 
 to be left to herself." 
 
 " The black -browed maid — I recollect her. Let 
 her e'en follow her mother. Queen Mary likes a young 
 face, and is kindly disposed to little maids. She 
 taught Bess Pierrepoint to speak French and work 
 with her needle, and I cannot see that she did the lass 
 any harm, nay, she is the only one of them all that 
 can rule her tongue to give a soft answer if things 
 go not after her will, and a maid mi^ht learn worse 
 things. Besides, your wife will be there to look 
 after the maiden, so you need have no fears. And 
 for your sons, they will be at school, and can eat 
 with us." 
 
 Richard's doubts being thus silenced he could not 
 but bring his wife to his lord's rescue, though he well 
 knew that Susan would be greatly disturbed on all 
 accounts, and indeed he found her deep in the ironing 
 that followed the great spring wash, and her housewifely 
 mind was as much exercised as to the effects of her 
 desertion, as was her maternal prudence at the plunge 
 which her unconscious adopted child was about to 
 make. However, there was no denying the request, 
 backed as it was by her husband, looking at her 
 proudly, and declaring she was by general consent 
 the only discreet woman in Sheffield. She was very 
 sorry for the Earl's perplexity, and had a loyal pity 
 
 vol. I. K
 
 130 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 for the Countess's vexation and folly, and she was 
 consoled by the assurance that she would have a free 
 time between dinner and supper to go home and 
 attend to her wash, and finish her preparations. Cis, 
 who had been left in a state of great curiosity, to 
 continue compounding pickle while the mother was 
 called away, was summoned to don her holiday kirtle, 
 for she was to join in attendance on the Queen of 
 Scots while Lady Shrewsbury and her daughters were 
 absent. 
 
 It was unmixed delight to the girl, and she was not 
 long in fresh-binding up her hair — black with a little 
 rust-coloured tinge — under her stiff little cap, smooth- 
 ing down the front, which was alone visible, putting 
 on the well-stiffened ruff with the dainty little lace 
 edge and close-fitting tucker, and then the gray home- 
 spun kirtle, with the puffs at the top of the tight 
 sleeves, and the slashes into which she had persuaded 
 mother to insert some old pink satin, for was not she 
 sixteen now, and almost a woman ? There was a pink 
 breast-knot to match, and Humfrey's owch just above it, 
 gray stockings, home -spun and worked with elaborate 
 pink clocks, but knitted by Cis herself; and a pair of 
 shoes with pink roses to match were put into a bag, to 
 be assumed when she arrived at the lodge. Out of 
 this simple finery beamed a face, bright in spite of the 
 straight, almost bushy, black brows. There was a light 
 of youth, joy, and intelligence, about her gray eyes 
 which made them sparkle all the more under their 
 dark setting, and though her complexion had no 
 brilliancy, only the clearness of health, and her 
 features would not endure criticism, there was a 
 wonderful lively sweetness about her fresh, innocent 
 young mouth ; and she had a tall lithe figure, sur-
 
 xi.] queen mary's presence chamber. 131 
 
 passing that of her stepmother. She would have been 
 a sonsie Border lass in appearance but for the remark- 
 able carriage of her small head and shoulders, which 
 was assuredly derived from her royal ancestry, and 
 indeed her air and manner of walking were such that 
 Diccon had more than once accused her of sailing 
 about ambling like the Queen of Scots, an accusation 
 which she hotly denied. Her hands had likewise a 
 slender form and fine texture, such as none of the 
 ladies of the houses of Talbot or Hardwicke could 
 rival, but she was on the whole viewed as far from 
 being a beauty. The taste of the day was altogether 
 for light, sandy-haired, small -featured women, like 
 Queen Elizabeth or her namesake of Hardwicke, so that 
 Cis was looked on as a sort of crow, and her supposed 
 parents were pitied for having so ill-favoured a 
 daughter, so unlike all their families, except one black - 
 a-vised Talbot grandmother, whose portrait had been 
 discovered on a pedigree. 
 
 Much did Susan marvel what impression the 
 daughter would make on the true mother as they 
 jogged up on their sober ponies through the long 
 avenues, whose branches were beginning to wear the 
 purple shades of coming spring. 
 
 Lord Shrewsbury himself met them in front of the 
 lodge, where, in spite of all his dignity, he had 
 evidently been impatiently awaiting them. He 
 thanked Susan for coming, as if he had not had a 
 right to order, gave her his ungloved hand when she 
 had dismounted, then at the single doorway of the 
 lodge caused his gentleman to go through the form of 
 requesting admission for himself and Mistress Talbot, 
 his dear kinswoman, to the presence of the Queen. It 
 was a ceremony daily observed as an acknowledgment
 
 132 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 of Mary's royalty, and the Earl was far too courteous 
 ever to omit it. 
 
 Queen Mary's willingness to admit him was notified 
 by Sir Andrew Melville, a tall, worn man, with the 
 typical Scottish countenance and a keen steadfast gray 
 eye. He marshalled the trio up a circular staircase, 
 made as easy as possible, but necessarily narrow, since 
 it wound up through a brick turret at the corner, to 
 the third and uppermost story of the lodge. 
 
 There, however, was a very handsome anteroom, 
 with tapestry hangings, a richly moulded ceiling, and 
 wide carved stone chimneypiece, where a bright fire was 
 burning, around which sat several Scottish and French 
 gentlemen, who rose at the Earl's entrance. Another 
 wide doorway with a tapestry curtain over the folding 
 leaves led to the presence chamber, and Sir Andrew 
 announced in as full style as if he had been marshal- 
 ling an English ambassador to the Court of Holyrood, 
 the most high arid mighty Earl of Shrewsbury. The 
 room was full of March sunshine, and a great wood 
 fire blazed on the hearth. Part of the floor was 
 carpeted, and overhung with a canopy, proceeding from 
 the tapestried wall, and here was a cross-legged velvet 
 chair on which sat Queen Mary. This was all that 
 Cis saw at first, while the Earl advanced, knelt on 
 one step of the dais, with bared head, exchanging 
 greetings with the Queen. He then added, that his 
 wife, the Countess, and her daughter, having been 
 called away from Sheffield, he would entreat her 
 Grace to accept for a few days in their stead the 
 attendance of his good kinswoman, Mrs. Talbot, and 
 her daughter, Mistress Cicely. 
 
 Mary graciously intimated her consent, and extended 
 her hand for each to kiss as they knelt in turn on the
 
 XI.] QUEEN MARY'S PRESENCE CHAMBER. 133 
 
 step ; Susan either fancied, or really saw a wonderful 
 likeness in that taper hand to the little one whose 
 stitches she had so often guided. Cis, on her part, 
 felt the thrill of girlhood in the actual touch of the 
 subject of her dreams. She stood, scarcely hearing 
 what passed, but taking in, from under her black brows, 
 all the surroundings, and recognising the persons from 
 her former glimpses, and from Antony Babington's 
 descriptions. The presence chamber was ample for 
 the suite of the Queen, which had been reduced on 
 every fresh suspicion. There was in it, besides the 
 Queen's four ladies, an elderly one, with a close black 
 silk hood — Jean Kennedy, or Mrs. Kennett as the 
 English called her ; another, a thin slight figure, with a 
 worn face, as if a great sorrow had passed over her, 
 making her look older than her mistress, was the 
 Queen's last remaining Mary, otherwise Mrs. Seaton. 
 The gossip of Sheffield had not failed to tell how the 
 chamberlain, Beatoun, had been her suitor, and she 
 had half consented to accept him when he was sent 
 on a mission to France, and there died. The dark- 
 complexioned bright-eyed little lady, on a smaller scale 
 than the rest, was Marie de Courcelles, who, like the 
 two others, had been the Queen's companion in all 
 her adventures ; and the fourth, younger and prettier 
 than the rest, was already known to Cis and her mother, 
 since she was the Barbara Mowbray who was affianced 
 to Gilbert Curll, the Queen's Scottish secretary, recently 
 taken into her service. Both these were Protestants, 
 and, like the Bridgefield family, attended service in 
 the castle chapel. They were all at work, as was like- 
 wise their royal lady, to whom the girl, with the youth- 
 ful coyness that halts in the fulfilment of its dreams, 
 did not at first raise her eyes, having first taken in all
 
 134 UNKNOWN TO HISTOEY. [CHAP. 
 
 the ladies, the several portions of one great coverlet 
 which they were all embroidering in separate pieces, 
 and the gentleman who was reading aloud to them from 
 a large book placed on a desk at which he was standing. 
 When she did look up, as the Queen was graciously 
 requesting her mother to be seated, and the Earl excusing 
 himself from remaining longer, her first impression was 
 one of disappointment. Either the Queen of Scots was 
 less lovely seen leisurely close at hand than Antony 
 Babington and Cis's own fancy had painted her, or the 
 last two or three years had lessened her charms, as well 
 they might, for she had struggled and suffered much 
 in the interval, had undergone many bitter disappoint- 
 ments, and had besides endured much from rheu- 
 matism every winter, indeed, even now she could not 
 ride, and could only go out in a carriage in the park 
 on the finest days, looking forward to her annual visit 
 to Buxton to set her up for the summer. Her face 
 was longer and more pointed than in former days, her 
 complexion had faded, or perhaps in these private 
 moments it had not been worth while to enhance it ; 
 though there was no carelessness in the general attire, 
 the black velvet gown, and delicate lace of the cap, 
 and open ruff always characteristic of her. The small 
 curls of hair at her temples had their auburn tint 
 softened by far more white than suited one who was 
 only just over forty, but the delicate pencilling of the 
 eyebrows was as marked as ever ; and the eyes, on 
 whose colour no one ever agreed, melted and sparkled 
 as of old. Cis had heard debates as to their hue, and 
 furtively tried to form her own opinion, but could not 
 decide on anything but that they had a dark effect, 
 and a wonderful power of expression, seeming to look 
 at every one at once, and to rebuke, encourage, plead,
 
 XI.] QUEEN MART'S PRESENCE CHAMBER. 135 
 
 or smile, from moment to moment. The slight cast in 
 one of them really added to their force of expression 
 rather than detracted from their beauty, and the deli- 
 cate lips were ready to second the glances with 
 wondrous smiles. Cis had not felt the magic of her 
 mere presence five minutes without being convinced 
 that Antony Babington was right ; the Lord Treasurer 
 and all the rest utterly wrong, and that she beheld 
 the most innocent and persecuted of princesses. 
 
 Meantime, all due formalities having been gone 
 through, Lord Shrewsbury bowed himself out backwards 
 with a dexterity that Cis breathlessly admired in one so 
 stately and so stiff, forgetting that he had daily practice 
 in the art. Then Queen Mary courteously entreated her 
 visitors to be seated, near herself, asking with a smile 
 if this were not the little maiden who had queened 
 it so prettily in the brake some few years since. 
 Cis blushed and drew back her head with a pretty 
 gesture of dignified shyness as Susan made answer for 
 her that she was the same. 
 
 " I should have known it," said the Queen, smiling, 
 " by the port of her head alone. 'Tis strange," she said, 
 musing, " that maiden hath the bearing of head and 
 neck that I have never seen save in my own mother, 
 the saints rest her soul, and in her sisters, and which 
 we always held to be their inheritance from the blood 
 of Charlemagne." 
 
 " Your grace does her too much honour," Susan 
 contrived to say, thankful that no less remote resem- 
 blance had been detected. 
 
 " It was a sad farce when they tried to repeat your 
 pretty comedy with the chief performer omitted," pro- 
 ceeded the Queen, directing her words to the girl, but 
 the mother replied for her.
 
 136 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 " Your Grace will pardon me, I could not permit 
 her to play in public, before all the menti of the castle." 
 
 " Madame is a discreet and prudent mother," said 
 the Queen. " The mistake was in repeating the repre- 
 sentation at all, not in abstaining from appearing in 
 it. I should be very sorry that this young lady should 
 have been concerned in a spectacle a la comtesse" 
 
 There was something in the intonation of "this 
 young lady " that won Cis's heart on the spot, some- 
 thing in the concluding words that hurt Susan's faith- 
 ful loyalty towards her kinswoman, in spite of the 
 compliment to herself. However Mary did not pursue 
 the subject, perceiving with ready tact that it was dis- 
 tasteful, and proceeded to ask Dame Susan's opinion 
 of her work, which was intended as a gift to her good 
 aunt, the Abbess of Soissons. How strangely the 
 name fell upon Susan's ear. It was a pale blue satin 
 coverlet, worked in large separate squares, innumerable 
 shields and heraldic devices of Lorraine, Bourbon, 
 France, Scotland, etc., round the border, and beautiful 
 meandering patterns of branches, with natural flowers 
 and leaves growing from them covering the whole with 
 a fascinating regular irregularity. Cis could not repress 
 an exclamation of delight, which brought the most 
 charming glance of the winning eyes upon her. There 
 was stitchery here that she did not understand, but 
 when she looked at some of the flowers, she could not 
 help uttering the sentiment that the eyes of the daisies 
 were not as mother could make them. 
 
 So, as a great favour, Queen Mary entreated to be 
 shown Mrs. Talbot's mode of dealing with the eyes of 
 the daisies. No, her good Seaton would not learn so 
 well as she should ; Madame must come and sit by 
 her and show her. Meantime here was her poor little
 
 XL] QUEEN MARY'S PRESENCE CHAMBER. 137 
 
 Bijou whimpering to be taken on her lap. "Would not 
 he find a comforter in sweet Mistress — ah, what was 
 her name ? 
 
 " We named her Cicely, so please your Grace," said 
 Susan, unable to help blushing. 
 
 " Cecile, a fair name. Ah ! so the poor Antoine 
 called her. I see my Bijou has found a friend in you, 
 Mistress Cecile" — as the girl's idle hands were only 
 too happy to caress the pretty little shivering Italian 
 greyhound rather than to be busy with a needle. " Do 
 you ever hear of that young Babington, your play- 
 fellow ?" she added. 
 
 " No, madam," said Cis, looking up, " he hath never 
 been here !" 
 
 " I thought not," said Queen Mary, sighing. " Take 
 heed to manifest no pity for me, maiden, if you should 
 ever chance to be inspired with it for a poor worn-out 
 old prisoner. It is the sure sentence of misfortune and 
 banishment." 
 
 " In his sex, madam," here put in Marie de Cour- 
 celles. " If it were so in ours, woe to some of us." 
 
 " That is true, my dear friends," said Mary, her 
 eyes glistening with dew. " It is the women who are 
 the most fearless, the most faithful, and whom the saints 
 therefore shield." 
 
 " Alas, there are some who are faithful but who are 
 not shielded !" 
 
 It was merely a soft low murmur, but the tender- 
 hearted Queen had caught it, and rising impulsively, 
 crossed the room and gathered Mary Seaton's hands 
 into hers, no longer the queen but the loving friend of 
 equal years, soothing her in a low fond voice, and pre- 
 sently sending her to the inner chamber to compose 
 herself. Then as the Queen returned slowly to her
 
 138 UNKNOWN TO HISTOEY. [CHAP. 
 
 seat it would be seen how lame she was from rheuma- 
 tism. Mrs. Kennedy hurried to assist her, with a 
 nurse-like word of remonstrance, to which she replied 
 with a bewitching look of sweetness that she could not 
 but forget her aches and pains when she saw her- dear 
 Mary Seaton in trouble. 
 
 Most politely she then asked whether her visitors 
 would object to listening to the conclusion of her day's 
 portion of reading. There was no refusing, of course, 
 though, as Susan glanced at the reader and knew him 
 to be strongly suspected of being in Holy Orders con- 
 ferred abroad, she had her fears for her child's Protestant 
 principles. The book, however, proved to be a trans- 
 lation of St. Austin on the Psalms, and, of course, she 
 could detect nothing that she disapproved, even if 
 Cis had not been far too much absorbed by the little 
 dog and its mistress to have any comprehending ears 
 for theology. Queen Mary confidentially observed as 
 much to her after the reading, having, no doubt, de- 
 tected her uneasy glance. 
 
 " You need not fear for your child, madam," she 
 said ; " St. Augustine is respected by your own Queen 
 and her Bishops. At the readings with which my good 
 Mr. Belton favours me, I take care to have nothing you 
 Protestants dispute when I know it." She added, 
 smiling, " Heaven knows that I have endeavoured to 
 understand your faith, and many a minister has argued 
 with me. I have done my best to comprehend them, but 
 they agreed in nothing but in their abuse of the Pope. 
 At least so it seemed to my poor weak mind. But 
 you are satisfied, madam, I see it in your calm eyes 
 and gentle voice. If I see much of you, I shall learn 
 to think well of your religion." 
 
 Susan made an obeisance without answering. She
 
 XI.] QUEEN MARY'S PRESENCE CHAMBER. 139 
 
 had heard Sir Gilbert Talbot say, " If she tries to per- 
 suade you that you can convert her, be sure that she 
 means mischief," but she could not bear to believe it 
 anything but a libel while the sweet sad face was gazing 
 into hers. 
 
 Queen Mary changed the subject by asking a few 
 questions about the Countess's sudden departure. There 
 was a sort of guarded irony suppressed in her tone — she 
 was evidently feeling her way with the stranger, and 
 when she found that Susan would only own to causes 
 Lord Shrewsbury had adduced on the spur of the 
 moment, she was much too wary to continue the 
 examination, though Susan could not help thinking 
 that she knew full well the disturbance which had 
 taken place. 
 
 A short walk on the roof above followed. The sun 
 was shining brilliantly, and lame as she was, the Queen's 
 strong craving for free air led her to climb her stairs 
 and creep to and fro on Sir Andrew Melville's arm, 
 gazing out over the noble prospect of the park close 
 below, divided by the winding vales of the three rivers, 
 which could be traced up into the woods and the moors 
 beyond, purple with spring freshness and glory. Mary 
 made her visitors point out Bridgefield, and asked 
 questions about all that could be seen of the house 
 and pleasance, which, in truth, was little enough, 
 but she contrived to set Cis off into a girl's chatter 
 about her home occupations, and would not let her be 
 hushed. 
 
 " You little know the good it does a captive to take 
 part, only in fancy, in a free harmless life," returned 
 Mary, with the wistful look that made her eyes so 
 pathetic. " There is no refreshment to me like a child's 
 prattle."
 
 140 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 Susan's heart smote her as she thought of the true 
 relations in which these two stood to one another, and 
 she forbore from further interference ; but she greatly 
 rejoiced when the great bell of the castle gave notice 
 of noon, and of her own release. When Queen Mary's 
 dinner was served, the Talbot ladies in attendance left 
 her and repaired to the general family meal in the 
 hall.
 
 XII.] A FURIOUS LETTER. 141 
 
 CHAPTEE XII. 
 
 A FURIOUS LETTER. 
 
 A period now began of daily penance to Mrs. Talbot, 
 of daily excitement and delight to Cis. Two hours or 
 more had to be spent in attendance on Queen Mary. 
 Even on Sundays there was no exemption, the visit 
 only took place later in the day, so as not to interfere 
 with going to church. 
 
 Nothing could be more courteous or more friendly 
 than the manner in which the elder lady was always 
 received. She was always made welcome by the 
 Queen herself, who generally entered into conversation 
 with her almost as with an equal. Or when Mary 
 herself was engaged in her privy chamber in dictating 
 to her secretaries, the ladies Of the suite showed them- 
 selves equally friendly, and told her of their mistress's 
 satisfaction in having a companion free from all the 
 rude and unaccountable humours and caprices of my 
 Lady Countess and her daughters. And if Susan was 
 favoured, Cis was petted. Queen Mary always liked to 
 have young girls about her. Their fresh, spontaneous, 
 enthusiastic homage was pleasant to one who loved 
 above all to attract, and it was a pleasure to a prisoner 
 to have a fresh face about her. 
 
 Was it only this, or was it the maternal instinct
 
 142 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 that made her face light up when the young girl 
 entered the room and return the shy reverential kiss 
 of the hand with a tender kiss on the forehead, that 
 made her encourage the chatter, give little touches to 
 the deportment, and present little keepsakes, which in- 
 creased in value till Sir Eichard began to look grave, 
 and to say there must be no more jewels of price 
 brought from the lodge ? And as his wife uttered a 
 word that sounded like remonstrance, he added, " Not 
 while she passes for my daughter." 
 
 Cis, who had begun by putting on a pouting face, 
 burst into tears. Her adopted parents had always 
 been more tolerant and indulgent to her than if she 
 had been a child over whom they felt entire rights, 
 and instead of rewarding her petulance with such a 
 blow as would have fallen to the lot of a veritable 
 Talbot, Eichard shrugged his shoulders and left the 
 room — the chamber which had been allotted to Dame 
 Susan at the Manor-house, while Susan endeavoured 
 to cheer the girl by telling her not to grieve, for her 
 father was not angry with her. 
 
 " Why — why may not the dear good Queen give me 
 her dainty gifts ? " sobbed Cis. 
 
 " See, dear child," said Susan, " while she only gave 
 thee an orange stuck with cloves, or an embroidery 
 needle, or even a puppy dog, it is all very well ; but 
 when it comes to Spanish gloves and coral clasps, the 
 next time there is an outcry about a plot, some evil- 
 disposed person would be sure to say that Master Eichard 
 Talbot had been taking bribes through his daughter." 
 
 " It would be vilely false ! " cried Cis with flashing 
 eyes. 
 
 " It would not be the less believed," said Susan. 
 " My Lord would say we had betrayed our trust, and
 
 XII.] A FURIOUS LETTER. 143 
 
 there never has been one stain on my husband's 
 honour." 
 
 " You are wroth with me too, mother ! " said Cis. 
 
 " Not if you are a good child, and guard the honour 
 of the name you bear." 
 
 " I will, I will ! " said Cis. " Never will I take 
 another gift from the Queen if only you and he will 
 
 call me your child, and be — good to me " The rest 
 
 was lost in tears and in the tender caresses that Susan 
 lavished on her ; all the more as she caught the 
 broken words, " Humfrey, too, he would never forgive 
 me." 
 
 Susan told her husband what had passed, adding, 
 " She will keep her word." 
 
 " She must, or she shall go no more to the lodge," 
 he said. 
 
 " You would not have doubted had you seen her 
 eye flash at the thought of bringing your honour into 
 question. There spoke her kingly blood." 
 
 " Well, we shall see," sighed Eichard, " if it be 
 blood that makes the nature. I fear me hers is but 
 that of a Scottish thief ! Scorn not warning, mother, 
 but watch thy stranger nestling well." 
 
 " Nay, mine husband. While we own her as our 
 child, she will do anything to be one with us. It is 
 when we seem to put her from us that we wound her 
 so that I know not what she might do, fondled as she 
 is — by — by her who — has the best right to the dear 
 child." 
 
 Eichard uttered a certain exclamation of disgust 
 which silenced his discreet wife. 
 
 Neither of them had quite anticipated the result, 
 namely, that the next morning, Cis, after kissing the 
 Queen's hand as usual, remained kneeling, her bosom
 
 144 UNKNOWN TO HISTOEY. [CHAP. 
 
 heaving, and a little stammering on her tongue, while 
 tears rose to her eyes. 
 
 " What is it, mignonne," said Mary, kindly ; " is the 
 whelp dead ? or is the clasp broken ? " 
 
 " No, madam ; but — but I pray you give me no 
 more gifts. My father says it touches his honour, and 
 I have promised him — Oh, madam, be not displeased 
 with me, but let me give you back your last beauteous 
 
 .gift." 
 
 Mary was standing by the fire. She took the 
 ivory and coral trinket from the hand of the kneeling 
 girl, and dashed it into the hottest glow. There was 
 passion in the action, and in the kindling eye, but it 
 was but for a moment. Before Cis could speak or 
 Susan begin her excuses, the delicate hand was laid on 
 the girl's head, and a calm voice said, " Fear not, child. 
 Queens take not back their gifts. I ought to have 
 borne in mind that I am balked of the pleasure of 
 giving — the best of all the joys they have robbed me 
 of. But tremble not, sweetheart, I am not chafed 
 with thee. I will vex thy father no more. Better 
 thou shouldst go without a trinket or two than deprive 
 me of the light of that silly little face of thine, so long 
 as they will leave me that sunbeam." 
 
 She stooped and kissed the drooping brow, and 
 Susan could not but feel as if the voice of nature were 
 indeed speaking. 
 
 A few words of apology in her character of mother 
 for the maiden's abrupt proceeding were met by the 
 Queen most graciously. " Spare thy words, good 
 madam. We understand and reverence Mr. Talbot's 
 point of honour. Would that all who approached us 
 had held his scruples ! " 
 
 Perhaps Mary was after this more distant and
 
 XII.] A FURIOUS LETTER. 145 
 
 dignified towards the matron, but especially tender 
 and caressing towards the maiden, as if to make up by- 
 kindness for the absence of little gifts. 
 
 Storms, however, were brewing without. Lady 
 Shrewsbury made open complaints of her husband 
 having become one of Mary's many victims, represent- 
 ing herself as an injured wife driven out of her house. 
 She actually in her rage carried the complaint to 
 Queen Elizabeth, who sent down two commissioners 
 to inquire into the matter. They sat in the castle 
 hall, and examined all the attendants, including Eichard 
 and his wife. The investigation was extremely painful 
 and distressing, but it was proved that nothing could 
 have been more correct and guarded than the whole 
 intercourse between the Earl and his prisoner. If he 
 had erred, it had been on the side of caution and 
 severity, though he had always preserved the courteous 
 demeanour of a gentleman, and had been rejoiced to 
 permit whatever indulgences could be granted. If 
 there had been any transgressions of the strict rules, 
 they had been made by the Countess herself and her 
 daughters in the days of their intimacy with the 
 Queen ; and the aspersions on the unfortunate Earl 
 were, it was soon evident, merely due to the violent and 
 unscrupulous tongues of the Countess and her daughter 
 Mary. No wonder that Lord Shrewsbury wrote letters 
 in which he termed the lady " his wicked and malicious 
 wife," and expressed his conviction that his son Gilbert's 
 mind had been perverted by her daughter. 
 
 The indignation of the captive Queen was fully 
 equal to his, as one after another of her little court 
 returned and was made to detail the points on which 
 he or she had been interrogated. Susan found her 
 pacing up and down the floor like a caged tigress, her 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 cap and veil thrown back, so that her hair — far whiter 
 than what was usually displayed — was hanging di- 
 shevelled, her ruff torn open, as if it choked back the 
 swelling passion in her throat. 
 
 " Never, never content with persecuting me, they 
 must insult me ! Is it not enough that I am stripped 
 of my crown, deprived of my friends ; that I cannot 
 take a step beyond this chamber, queen as I am, with- 
 out my warder ? Must they attaint me as a woman ? 
 Oh, why, why did the doom spare me that took my 
 little brothers ? Why did I live to be the most 
 wretched, not of sovereigns alone, but of women ? " 
 
 " Madam," entreated Marie de Courcelles, " dearest 
 madam, take courage. All these horrible charges 
 refute themselves." 
 
 " Ah, Marie ! you have said so ten thousand times, 
 and what charge has ever been dropped ?" 
 
 "This one is dropped!" exclaimed Susan, coming 
 forward. " Yes, your Grace, indeed it is ! The Com- 
 missioner himself told my husband that no one believed 
 it for a moment." 
 
 "Then why should these men have been sent but 
 to sting and gall me, and make me feel that I am in 
 their power ?" cried the Queen. 
 
 "They came," said the Secretary Curll, "because 
 thus alone could the Countess be silenced." 
 
 " The Countess !" exclaimed Mary. " So my cousin 
 hath listened to her tongue !" 
 
 " Backed by her daughter's," added Jean Kennedy. 
 
 " It were well that she knew what those two dames 
 can say of her Majesty herself, when it serves them," 
 added Marie de Courcelles. 
 
 "That shall she!" exclaimed Mary. "She shall 
 have it from mine own hand ! Ha ! ha ! Elizabeth
 
 XII.] A FUKIOUS LETTER. 147 
 
 shall know the choice tales wherewith Mary Talbot 
 hath regaled us, and then shall she judge how far any- 
 thing that comes from my young lady is worth heeding 
 for a moment. Remember you all the tales of the 
 nips and the pinches ? Ay, and of all the endear- 
 ments to Leicester and to Hatton ? She shall have it 
 all, and try how she likes the dish of scandal of Mary 
 Talbot's cookery, sauced by Bess of Hardwicke. Here, 
 nurse, come and set this head-gear of mine in order, 
 and do you, my good Curll, have pen, ink, and paper 
 in readiness for me." 
 
 The Queen did little but write that morning. The 
 next day, on coming out from morning prayers, which 
 the Protestants of her suite attended, with the rest of 
 the Shrewsbury household, Barbara Mowbray con- 
 trived to draw Mrs. Talbot apart as they went towards 
 the lod^e. 
 
 " Madam," she said, " they all talk of your power to 
 persuade. Xow is the time you could do what would 
 be no small service to this poor Queen, ay, and it may 
 be to your own children." 
 
 " I may not meddle in any matters of the Queen's," 
 returned Susan, rather stiffly. 
 
 " Xay, but hear me, madam. It is only to hinder 
 the sending of a letter." 
 
 " That letter which her Grace was about to write 
 yesterday ?" 
 
 " Even so. 'Tis no secret, for she read fragments 
 of it aloud, and all her women applauded it with all 
 their might, and laughed over the stings that it would 
 give, but Mr. Curll, who had to copy it, saith that there 
 is a bitterness in it that can do nothing but make her 
 Majesty of England the more inflamed, not only 
 against my Lady Shrewsbury, but against her who writ
 
 148 UNKNOWN TO HISTOEY. [CHAP. 
 
 the letter, and all concerned. Why, she hath even 
 brought in the comedy that your children acted in the 
 woodland, and that was afterwards repeated in the 
 hall !" 
 
 " You say not so, Mistress Barbara ?" 
 
 " Indeed I do. Mr. Curll and Sir Andrew Mel- 
 ville are both of them sore vexed, and would fain 
 have her withdraw it ; but Master Nau and all the 
 Trench part of the household know not how to rejoice 
 enough at such an exposure of my Lady, which gives a 
 hard fling at Queen Elizabeth at the same time ! Nay, 
 I cannot but tell you that there are things in it that 
 Dame Mary Talbot might indeed say, but I know 
 not how Queen Mary could bring herself to set 
 down " 
 
 Barbara Mowbray ventured no more, and Susan felt 
 hopeless of her task, since how was she by any means 
 to betray knowledge of the contents of the letter ? Yet 
 much that she had heard made her feel very uneasy 
 on all accounts. She had too much strong family 
 regard for the Countess and for Gilbert Talbot and his 
 wife to hear willingly of what might imperil them, 
 and though royal indignation would probably fly over 
 the heads of the children, no one was too obscure in 
 those Tudor times to stand in danger from a sovereign 
 who might think herself insulted. Yet as a Hard- 
 wicke, and the wife of a Talbot, it was most unlikely 
 that she would have any opening for remonstrance 
 given to her. 
 
 However, it was possible that Curll wished to give 
 her an opening, for no sooner were the ladies settled at 
 work than he bowed himself forward and offered his 
 mistress his copy of the letter. 
 
 " Is it fair engrossed^ good Curll ? " asked Mary.
 
 xil] a furious lettee. 149 
 
 "Thanks. Then will we keep your copy, and you 
 shall fold and prepare our own for our sealing." 
 
 "Will not your Majesty hear it read over ere it 
 pass out of your hands ?" asked Curll. 
 
 " Even so," returned Mary, who really was delighted 
 with the pungency of her own composition. " Mayhap 
 we may have a point or two to add." 
 
 After what Mistress Barbara had said, Susan was 
 on thorns that Cis should hear the letter; but that 
 good young lady, hating the expressions therein her- 
 self, and hating it still more for the girl, bethought her 
 of asking permission to take Mistress Cicely to her 
 own chamber, there to assist her in the folding of some 
 of her laces, and Mary consented. It was well, for 
 there was much that made the English-bred Susan's 
 cheeks glow and her ears tingle. 
 
 But, at least, it gave her a great opportunity. 
 When the letter was finished, she advanced and knelt 
 on the step of the canopied chair, saying, "Madam, 
 pardon me, if in the name of my unfortunate children, 
 I entreat you not to accuse them to the Queen." 
 
 " Your children, lady ! How have I included them 
 in what I have told her Majesty of our sweet 
 Countess?" 
 
 " Your Grace will remember that the foremost parts 
 in yonder farce were allotted to my son Humfrey and 
 to young Master Babington. Nay, that the whole 
 arose from the woodland sport of little Cis, which your 
 Grace was pleased to admire." 
 
 " Sooth enough, my good gossip, but none could 
 suspect the poor children of the malice my Lady 
 Countess contrived to put into the matter." 
 
 "Ah, madam ! these are times when it is convenient to 
 shift the blame on one who can be securely punished."
 
 150 UNKNOWN TO HISTOEY. [CHAP. 
 
 * Certes," said Mary, thoughtfully, " the Countess is 
 capable of making her escape by denouncing some one 
 else, especially those within her own reach." 
 
 " Your Grace, who can speak such truth of my poor 
 Lady," said Susan, " will also remember that though my 
 Lord did yield to the persuasions of the young ladies, 
 he so needfully caused Master Sniggius to omit all 
 perilous matter, that no one not informed would have 
 guessed at the import of the piece, as it was played in 
 the hall." 
 
 " Most assuredly not," said Mary, laughing a little 
 at the recollection. " It might have been played in 
 Westminster Hall without putting my gracious cousin, 
 ay, or Leicester and Hatton themselves, to the blush." 
 
 " Thus, if the Queen should take the matter up and 
 trace it home, it could not but be brought to my poor 
 innocent children ! Humfrey is for the nonce out of 
 reach, but the maiden — I wis verily that your High- 
 ness would be loath to do her any hurt !" 
 
 "Thou art a good pleader, madam," said the 
 queen. " Verily I should not like to bring the bonnie 
 lassie into trouble. It will give Master Curll a little 
 more toil, ay and myself likewise, for the matter must 
 stand in mine own hand ; but we will leave out yonder 
 unlucky farce." 
 
 " Your Highness is very good," said Susan earnestly. 
 
 "Yet you look not yet content, my good lady. 
 What more would you have of me ?" 
 
 " What your Majesty will scarce grant," said Susan. 
 
 " Ha ! thou art of the same house thyself. I had 
 forgotten it ; thou art so unlike to them. I wager that 
 it is not to send this same letter at all." 
 
 "Your Highness hath guessed my mind. Nay, 
 madam, though assuredly I do desire it because the
 
 XII.] A FURIOUS LETTER. 151 
 
 Countess hath "been ever my good lady, and hred me 
 up ever since I was an orphan, it is not solely for her 
 sake that I would fain pray you, hut fully as much for 
 your Majesty's own." 
 
 " Madame Talbot sees the matter as I do," said Sir 
 Andrew Melville. "The English Queen is as like to 
 be irate with the reporter of the scandal as with the 
 author of it, even as the wolf bites the barb that pierces 
 him when he cannot reach the archer." 
 
 " She is welcome to read the letter," said Mary, 
 smiling ; " thy semblance falleth short, my good friend." 
 
 " Xay, madam, that was not the whole of my pur- 
 port," said Susan, standing with folded hands, looking 
 from one to another. " Pardon me. My thought was 
 that to take part in all this repeating of thoughtless, 
 idle words, spoken foolishly indeed, but scarce so much 
 in malice as to amuse your Grace with Court news, 
 and treasured up so long, your Majesty descends from 
 being the patient and suffering princess, meek, generous, 
 and uncomplaining, to be — to be " 
 
 " Xo better than one of them, wouldst thou add ? " 
 asked Mary, somewhat sharply, as Susan paused. 
 
 " Your Highness has said it," answered Susan ; 
 then, as there was a moment's pause, she looked up, 
 and with clasped hands added, " Oh, madam ! would 
 it not be more worthy, more noble, more queenly, more 
 Christian, to refrain from stinging with this repetition 
 of these vain and f oolish slanders ? " 
 
 " Most Christian treatment have I met with," re- 
 turned Mary ; but after a pause she turned to her 
 almoner, Master Belton, sayiDg, " What say you, sir ? " 
 
 " I say that Mrs. Talbot speaks more Christian 
 words than are often heard in these parts," returned 
 he. " The thankworthiness of suffering is lost by
 
 152 UNKNOWN TO HISTOEY. [CHAR 
 
 those who return the revilings upon those who utter 
 them." 
 
 " Then he it so," returned the Queen. " Elizabeth 
 shall be spared the knowledge that some ladies' tongues 
 can be as busy with her as with her poor cousin." 
 
 With her own hands Mary tore up her own letter, 
 but Curll's copy unfortunately escaped destruction, to 
 be discovered in after times. Lord and Lady Shrews- 
 bury never knew the service Susan had rendered them 
 by causing it to be suppressed.
 
 XIII. ] BEADS AND BRACELETS. 153 
 
 CHAPTEE XIII. 
 
 BEADS AND BEACELETS. 
 
 The Countess was by no means pacified by the inves- 
 tigation, and both she and her family remained at 
 Court, maligning her husband and his captive. As 
 the season advanced, bringing the time for the Queen's 
 annual resort to the waters of Buxton, Lord Shrews- 
 bury was obliged to entreat Mrs. Talbot again to be 
 her companion, declaring that he had never known so 
 much peace as with that lady in the Queen's chambers. 
 
 The journey to Buxton was always the great holi- 
 day of the imprisoned Court. The place was part of 
 the Shrewsbury property, and the Earl had a great 
 house there, but there were no conveniences for exer- 
 cising so strict a watch as at Sheffield, and there was 
 altogether a relaxation of discipline. Exercise was 
 considered an essential part of the treatment, and 
 recreations were there provided. 
 
 Cis had heard so much of the charms of the ex- 
 pedition, that she was enraptured to hear that she was 
 to share it, together with Mrs. Talbot. The only 
 drawback was that Humfrey had promised to come 
 home after this present voyage, to see whether his 
 little Cis were ready for him ; and his father was much 
 disposed to remain at home, receive him first, and
 
 154 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 communicate to him the obstacles in the way of 
 wedding the young lady. However, my Lord refused 
 to dispense with the attendance of his most trust- 
 worthy kinsman, and leaving Ned at school under 
 charge of the learned Sniggius, the elder and the 
 younger Eichard Talbot rode forth with the retinue 
 of the Queen and her warder. 
 
 Neither Cicely nor Diccon had ever left home be- 
 fore, and they were in raptures which would have 
 made any journey delightful to them, far more a ride 
 through some of the wildest and loveliest glades that 
 England can display. Nay, it may be that they 
 would better have enjoyed something less like Shef- 
 field Park than the rocks, glens, and woods, through 
 which they rode. Their real delight was in the towns 
 and villages at which there was a halt, and every 
 traveller they saw was such a wonder to them, that at 
 the end of the first day they were almost as full of 
 exultation in their experiences, as if, with Humfrey, 
 they had been far on the way to America. 
 
 The delight of sleeping at Tideswell was in their 
 eyes extreme, though the hostel was so crowded that 
 Cis had to share a mattress with Mrs. Talbot, and 
 Diccon had to sleep in his cloak on the floor, which he 
 persuaded himself was high preferment. He woke, 
 however, much sooner than was his wont, and finding 
 it useless to try to fall asleep again, he made his way 
 out among the sleeping figures on the floor and hall, 
 and finding the fountain in the midst of the court, 
 produced his soap and comb from his pocket, and 
 made his morning toilet in the open air with consider- 
 able satisfaction at his own alertness. Presently there 
 was a tap at the window above, and he saw Cicely 
 making signals to him to wait for her, and in a few
 
 xiil] beads and bracelets. 155 
 
 minutes she skipped out from the door into the sun- 
 light of the early summer morning. 
 
 " Xo one is awake yet/' she said. " Even the guard 
 before the Queen's door is fast asleep. I only heard 
 a wench or two stirring. We can have a run in the 
 fields and gather May dew before any one is afoot." 
 
 " 'Tis not May, 'tis June," said matter-of-fact 
 Diccon. " But yonder is a guard at the yard gate ; 
 will he let us past ?" 
 
 " See, here's a little wicket into a garden of pot- 
 herbs," said Cis. "No doubt we can get out that 
 way, and it will brin^ us the sooner into the fields. 
 I have a cake in my wallet that mother gave me for 
 the journey, so we shall not fast. How sweet the 
 herbs smell in the dew — and see how silvery it lies 
 on the strawberry leaves. Ah ! thou naughty lad, 
 think not whether the fruit be ripe. Mayhap we shall 
 find some wild ones beyond." 
 
 The gate of the garden was likewise guarded, but 
 by a yeoman who well knew the young Talbots, and 
 made no difficulty about letting them out into the 
 broken ground beyond the garden, sloping up into a 
 little hill. Up bounded the boy and girl, like young 
 mountaineers, through gorse and fern, and presently 
 had gained a sufficient height to look over the country, 
 marking the valleys whence still were rising " fragrant 
 clouds of dewy steam " under the influence of the sun- 
 beams, gazing up at the purple heights of the Peak, 
 where a few lines of snow still lingered in the crevices, 
 trying to track their past journey from their own 
 Sheffield, and with still more interest to guess which 
 wooded valley before them contained Buxton. 
 
 "Have you lost your way, my pretty mistress?" 
 said a voice close to them, and turning round hastily
 
 156 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 they saw a peasant woman with a large basket on her 
 arm. 
 
 " No," said Cicely courteously, " we have only come 
 out to take the air before breakfast." 
 
 " I crave pardon," said the woman, curtseying, "the 
 pretty lady belongs to the great folk down yonder. 
 Would she look at my poor wares ? Here are beads 
 and trinkets of the goodly stones, pins and collars, 
 bracelets and eardrops, white, yellow, and purple," she 
 said, uncovering her basket, where were arranged 
 various ornaments made of Derbyshire spar. 
 
 "We have no money, good woman," said Cicely, 
 rising to return, vaguely uncomfortable at the woman's 
 eye, which awoke some remembrance of Tibbott the 
 huckster, and the troubles connected with her. 
 
 " Yea, but if my young mistress would only bring 
 me in to the Great Lady there, I know she would 
 buy of me my beads and bracelets, or give me an alms 
 for my poor children. I have five of them, good 
 young lady, and they lie naked and hungry till I can 
 sell my few poor wares, and the yeomen are so rough 
 and hard. They would break and trample every poor 
 bead I have in pieces rather than even let my Lord 
 hear of them. But if even my basket could be carried 
 in and shown, and if the good Earl heard my sad 
 tale, I am sure he would give license." 
 
 " He never does ! " said Diccon, roughly ; " hold off, 
 woman, do not hang on us, or I'll get thee branded for 
 a vagabond." 
 
 The woman put her knuckles into her eyes, and 
 wailed out that it was all for her poor children, and 
 Cicely reproved him for his roughness, and as the 
 woman kept close behind them, wailing, moaning, and 
 persuading, the boy and girl were wrought upon at
 
 XIII.] BEADS AND BRACELETS. 157 
 
 last to give her leave to wait outside the gate of the 
 inn garden, while they saw whether it was possible to 
 admit her or her basket. 
 
 But before they reached the gate, they saw a figure 
 beyond it, scanning the hill eagerly. They knew 
 him for their father even before he shouted to them, 
 and, as they approached, his voice was displeased : 
 " How now, children ; what manners are these ? " 
 
 " We have only been on the hillside, sweet father," 
 said Cis, " Diccon and I together. We thought no harm." 
 
 " This is not Sheffield Chace, Cis, and thou art 
 no more a child, but a maiden who needs to be dis- 
 creet, above all in these times. Whom did I see 
 following you ? " 
 
 " A poor woman, whom - — Ha, where is she ? " 
 exclaimed Cis, suddenly perceiving that the woman 
 seemed to have vanished. 
 
 " A troublesome begging woman who beset us with 
 her wares," said Diccon, " and would give us no peace, 
 praying that we would get them carried in to the Queen 
 and her ladies, whining about her children till she made 
 Cis soft-hearted. Where can she have hidden herself ? " 
 
 The man who was stationed as sentry at the gate 
 said he had seen the woman come over the brow of 
 the hill with Master Diccon and Mistress Cicely, but 
 that as they ran forward to meet Captain Talbot she 
 had disappeared amid the rocks and brushwood. 
 
 " Poor woman, she was afraid of our father," said 
 Cicely ; " I would we could see her again." 
 
 " So would not I," said Richard. " It looks not well, 
 and heed me well, children, there must be no more of 
 these pranks, nor of wandering out of bounds, or 
 babbling with strangers. Go thou in to thy mother, 
 Cis, she hath been in much trouble for thee."
 
 158 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 Mistress Susan was unusually severe with the girl 
 on the indiscretion of gadding in strange places with 
 no better escort than Diccon, and of entering into con- 
 versation with unknown persons. Moreover, Cicely's 
 hair, her shoes, and camlet riding skirt were all so 
 dank with dew that she was with difficulty made pre- 
 sentable by the time the horses were brought round 
 The Queen, who had not seen the girl that morning, 
 made her come and ride near her, asking questions on 
 the escapade, and giving one of her bewitching pathetic 
 smiles as she said how she envied the power of thus 
 dancing out on the greensward, and breathing the free 
 and fresh morning air. " My Scottish blood loves the 
 mountains, and bounds the more freely in the fresh 
 breeze," she said, gazing towards the Peak. " I love 
 the scent of the dew. Didst get into trouble, child ? 
 Methought I heard sounds of chiding ? " 
 
 " It was no fault of mine," said Cis, inclined to 
 complain when she found sympathy, " the woman 
 would speak to us." 
 
 " What woman ? " asked the Queen. 
 
 "A poor woman with a basket of wares, who 
 prayed hard to be allowed to show them to your 
 Grace or some of the ladies. She said she had five 
 sorely hungered children, and that she heard your 
 Grace was a compassionate lady." 
 
 " Woe is me, compassion is full all that I am 
 permitted to give," said the Queen, sadly* " she brought 
 trinkets to sell. What were her wares, saidst thou ? " 
 
 " I had no time to see many," said Cis, " something 
 pure and white like a new-laid egg, I saw, and a 
 necklet, clouded with beauteous purple." 
 
 " Ay, beads and bracelets, no doubt," said the 
 Queen.
 
 XIII.] BEADS AND BRACELETS. 159 
 
 " Yes, beads and bracelets," returned Cicely, the 
 soft chime of the Queen's Scottish accent bringing 
 back to her that the woman had twice pressed on her 
 beads and bracelets. 
 
 " She dwelt on them," said the Queen lightly. 
 " Ay, I know the chant of the poor folk who ever 
 hover about our outskirts in hopes to sell their country 
 gewgaws, beads and bracelets, collars and pins, little 
 guessing that she whom they seek is poorer than them- 
 selves. Mayhap, our Argus-eyed lord may yet let the 
 poor dame within his fence, and we may be able to 
 gratify thy longing for those same purple and white 
 beads and bracelets." 
 
 Meantime the party were riding on, intending to 
 dine at Buxton, which meant to reach it by noonday. 
 The tall roof of the great hall erected by the Earl 
 over the baths was already coming in sight, and by 
 and by they would look into the valley. The Wye, 
 after coming down one of those lovely deep ravines to 
 be found in all mountainous countries, here flowed 
 through a more open space, part of which had been 
 artificially levelled, but which was covered with 
 buildings, rising out amongst the rocks and trees. 
 
 Most conspicuous among them was a large freshly- 
 built erection in Tudor architecture, with a wide 
 portal arch, and five separate gables starting from one 
 central building, which bore a large clock-tower, and 
 was decorated at every corner with the Talbots' stout 
 and sturdy form. This was the great hall, built by the 
 present Earl George, and containing five baths, intended 
 to serve separately for each sex, gentle and simple, with 
 one special bath reserved for the sole use of the more 
 distinguished visitors. Besides this, at no great distance, 
 was the Earl's own mansion, " a very goodly house, four
 
 160 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 square, four stories high," with stables, offices, and all 
 the requisites of a nobleman's establishment, and this 
 was to be the lodging of the Scottish Queen. 
 
 Farther off was another house, which had been 
 built by permission of the Earl, under the auspices of 
 Dr. Jones, probably one of the first of the long series 
 of physicians who have made it their business to 
 enhance the fame of the watering-places where they 
 have set up their staff. This was the great hostel or 
 lodging-house for the patients of condition who re- 
 sorted to the healing springs, and nestled here and 
 there among the rocks were cottages which accom- 
 modated, after a fashion, the poorer sort, who might 
 drag themselves to the spot in the hope of washing 
 away their rheumatic pains and other infirmities. In 
 a distant and magnificent way, like some of the lesser 
 German potentates, the mighty Lord of Shrewsbury 
 took toll from the visitors to his baths, and this con- 
 tributed to repair the ravages to his fortune caused by 
 the maintenance of his royal captive. 
 
 Arriving just at noontide, the Queen and her escort 
 beheld a motley crowd dispersed about the sward on 
 the banks of the river, some playing at ball, others 
 resting on benches or walking up and down in groups, 
 exercise being recommended as part of the cure. All 
 thronged together to watch the Earl and his captive 
 ride in with their suite, the household turning out to 
 meet them, while foremost stood a dapper little figure 
 with a short black cloak, a stiff round . ruff, and a 
 square barrett cap, with a gold -headed cane in one 
 hand and a paper in the other. 
 
 "Prepare thy patience, Cis," whispered Barbara 
 Mowbray, "now shall we not be allowed to alight 
 from our palfreys till we have heard his full welcome
 
 XIII.] BEADS AND BRACELETS. 161 
 
 to my Lord, and all his plans for this place, how it is 
 to be made a sanctuary for the sick during their abode 
 there, for all causes saving sacrilege, treason, murder, 
 burglary, and highway robbery, with a license to eat 
 flesh on a Friday, as long as they are drinking the 
 waters!" 
 
 It was as Mistress Mowbray said. Dr. Jones's 
 harangue on the progress of Buxton and its prospects 
 had always to be endured before any one was allowed 
 to dismount; but royalty and nobility were inured to 
 listening with a good grace, and Mary, though wearied 
 and aching, sat patiently in the hot sunshine, and was 
 ready to declare that Buxton put her in good humour. 
 In fact the grandees and their immediate attendants 
 endured with all the grace of good breeding ; but the 
 farther from the scene of action, the less was the 
 patience, and the more restless and confused the 
 movements of the retinue. 
 
 Diccon Talbot, hungry and eager, had let his 
 equally restless pony convey him, he scarce knew 
 where, from his father's side, when he saw, making her 
 way among the horses, the very woman with the basket 
 whom he had encountered at Tideswell in the early 
 morning. How could she have gone such a distance 
 in the time? thought the boy, and he presently caught 
 the words addressed to one of the grooms of the Scot- 
 tish Queen's suite. " Let me show my poor beads and 
 bracelets." The Scotsman instantly made way for her, 
 and she advanced to a wizened thin old Frenchman, 
 Maitre Gorion, the Queen's surgeon, who jumped down 
 from his horse, and was soon bending over her basket 
 exchanging whispers in the lowest possible tones ; but 
 a surge among those in the rear drove Diccon up so 
 near that he was absolutely certain that they were 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 162 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 speaking French, as indeed he well knew that M. 
 Gorion never could succeed in making himself under- 
 stood in English. 
 
 The boy, bred up in the perpetual caution and 
 suspicion of Sheffield, was eager to denounce one who 
 he was sure was a conspirator ; but he was hemmed in 
 among horses and men, so that he could not make his 
 way out or see what was passing, till suddenly there 
 was a scattering to the right and left, and a simulta- 
 neous shriek from the ladies in front. 
 
 When Diccon could see anything, his father was 
 pressing forward to a group round some one prostrate 
 on the ground before the house, and there were ex- 
 clamations, " The poor young lady ! The chirurgeon ! 
 To the front, the Queen is asking for you, sir," and 
 Cicely's horse with loose bridle passed before his eyes. 
 
 " Let me through ! let me through !" cried the boy ; 
 " it is my sister." 
 
 He threw his bridle to a groom, and, squeezing 
 between horses and under elbows, succeeded in seeing 
 Cis lying on the ground with her eyes shut and her 
 head in his mother's lap, and the French surgeon 
 bending over her. She gave a cry when he touched her 
 arm, and he said something in his mixture of French 
 and English, which Diccon could not hear. The 
 Queen stood close by, a good deal agitated, anxiously 
 asking questions, and throwing out her hands in her 
 French fashion. Diccon, much frightened, struggled 
 on, but only reached the party just as his father had 
 gathered Cicely up in his arms to carry her upstairs. 
 Diccon followed as closely as he could, but blindly in 
 the crowd in the strange house, until he found him- 
 self in a long gallery, shut out, among various others 
 of both sexes. " Come, my masters and mistresses all,"
 
 xiil] beads and bracelets. 163 
 
 said the voice of the seneschal, " you had best to your 
 chambers, there is naught for you to do here." 
 
 However, he allowed Diccon to remain leaning 
 against the balustrade of the stairs which led up out- 
 side the house, and in another minute his father came 
 out. " Ha, Diccon, that is well," said he. " No, thou 
 canst not enter. They are about to undress poor little 
 Cis. Nay, it seemed not to me that she was more 
 hurt than thy mother could well have dealt with, but 
 the French surgeon would thrust in, and the Queen 
 would have it so. We will walk here in the court till 
 we hear what he saith of her. How befell it, dost 
 thou ask ? Truly I can hardly tell, but I believe one 
 of the Frenchmen's horses got restless, either with a 
 rly or with standing so long to hear yonder leech's 
 discourse. He must needs cut the beast with his rod, 
 and so managed to hit "White Posy, who starts aside, 
 and Cis, sitting unheedfully on that new-fangled French 
 saddle, was thrown in an instant." 
 
 " I shall laugh at her well for letting herself be 
 thrown by a Frenchman with his switch," said 
 Diccon. 
 
 " I hope the damage hath not been great," said his 
 father, anxiously looking up the stair. " Where wast 
 thou, Dick ? I had lost sight of thee." 
 
 "I was seekiug you, sir, for I had seen a strange 
 sight," said Dick. " That woman who spoke with us 
 at Tideswell was here again ; yea, and she talked with 
 the little old Frenchman that they call Gorion, the 
 same that is with Cis now." 
 
 " She did ! Folly, boy ! The fellow can hardly 
 comprehend five words of plain English together, long 
 as he hath been here ! One of the Queen's women is 
 gone in even now to interpret for him."
 
 164 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 " That do I wot, sir. Therefore did I marvel, and 
 sought to tell you." 
 
 " What like was the woman ? " demanded Eichard. 
 
 Diccon's description was lame, and his father bade 
 him hasten out of the court, and fetch the woman if he 
 could find her displaying her trinkets to the water- 
 drinkers, instructing him not to alarm her by per- 
 emptory commands, but to give her hopes of a purchaser 
 for her spars. Proud of the commission entrusted to 
 him, the boy sallied forth, but though he wandered 
 through all the groups on the sward, and encountered 
 two tumblers and one puppet show, besides a bear and 
 monkey, he utterly failed in finding the vendor of the 
 beads and bracelets. 
 
 ~&
 
 XIV.] THE MONOGRAMS. 165 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE MONOGRAMS. 
 
 When Cicely had been carried into a chamber 
 by Master Talbot, and laid half - conscious and 
 moaning on the grand carved bed, Mrs. Talbot by 
 word and gesture expelled all superfluous spectators. 
 She would have preferred examining alone into the 
 injury sustained by the maiden, which she did not 
 think beyond her own management ; but there was no 
 refusing the services of Maitre Gorion, or of Mrs. 
 Kennedy, who indeed treated her authoritatively, 
 assuming the direction of the sick-room. She found 
 herself acting under their orders as she undid the 
 boddice, while Mrs. Kennedy ripped up the tight 
 sleeve of the riding dress, and laid bare the arm and 
 shoulder, which had been severely bruised and twisted, 
 but neither broken nor dislocated, as Mrs. Kennedy 
 informed her, after a few rapid words from the French- 
 man, unintelligible to the English lady, who felt some- 
 what impatient of this invasion of her privileges, and 
 was ready to say she had never supposed any such 
 thing. 
 
 The chirurgeon skipped to the door, and for a 
 moment she hoped that she was rid of him, but he had 
 only gone to bring in a neat case with which his
 
 166 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 groom was in waiting outside, whence he extracted a 
 lotion and sponge, speaking rapidly as he did so. 
 
 "Now, madam," said Jean Kennedy, "lift the 
 lassie, there, turn back her boddice, and we will bathe 
 her shouther. So ! By my halidome !" 
 
 " Ah ! Mort de ma vie /" 
 
 The two exclamations darted simultaneously from 
 the lips of the Scottish nurse and the French doctor. 
 Susan beheld what she had at the moment forgotten, 
 the curious mark branded on her nursling's shoulder, 
 which indeed she had not seen since Cicely had been 
 of an age to have the care of her own person, and 
 which was out of the girl's own sight. No more 
 was said at the moment, for Cis was reviving fast, 
 and was so much bewildered and frightened that she 
 required all the attention and soothing that the two 
 women could give, but when they removed the rest of 
 her clothing, so that she might be laid down comfort- 
 ably to rest, Mrs. Kennedy by another dexterous move- 
 ment uncovered enough of the other shoulder to obtain 
 a glimpse of the monogram upon it. 
 
 Nothing was spoken. Those two had not been so 
 many years attendants on a suspected and imprisoned 
 queen without being prudent and cautious ; but when 
 they quitted the apartment after administering a febri- 
 fuge, Susan felt a pang of wonder, whether they were 
 about to communicate their discovery to their mistress. 
 For the next quarter of an hour, the patient needed all 
 her attention, and there was no possibility of obeying the 
 summons of a great clanging bell which announced dinner. 
 When, however, Cis had fallen asleep it became possible 
 to think over the situation. She foresaw an inquiry, 
 and would have given much for a few words with her 
 husband ; but reflection showed her that the one point
 
 XIV.] THE MONOGRAMS. 167 
 
 essential to his safety was not to betray that he and 
 she had any previous knowledge of the rank of their 
 nursling. The existence of the scroll might have to 
 be acknowledged, but to show that Eichard had de- 
 ciphered it would put him in danger on all hands. 
 
 She had just made up her mind on this point when 
 there was a knock at the door, and Mrs. Kennedy bore 
 in a salver with a cup of wine, and took from an 
 attendant, who remained outside, a tray with some 
 more solid food, which she placed on the broad edge 
 of the deep-set window, and coming to the bedside, 
 invited Mrs. Talbot to eat, while she watched the girl. 
 Susan complied, though with little appetite, and Mrs. 
 Kennedy, after standing for a few minutes in contem- 
 plation, came to the window. She was a tall woman, 
 her yellow hair softened by an admixture of gray, her 
 eyes keen and shrewd, yet capable of great tenderness 
 at times, her features certainly not youthful, but not 
 a whit more aged than they had been when Susan had 
 first seen her fourteen years ago. It was a quiet mouth, 
 and one that gave a sense of trust both in its firmness, 
 secrecy, and kindness. 
 
 "Madam," said she, in her soft Scotch voice, 
 lowered considerably, but not whispering, and with 
 her keen eyes fixed on Susan — " Madam, what garred 
 ye gie your bit lassie yonder marks ? Ye need not 
 fear, that draught of Maister Gorion's will keep her 
 sleeping fast for a good hour or two longer, and it 
 behoves me to ken how she cam by yonder brands." 
 
 " She had them when she came to us," said Susan. 
 
 " YeTl no persuade me that they are birth marks," 
 returned Mistress Jean. " Such a thing would be a 
 miracle in a loyal Scottish Catholic's wean, let alone an 
 Knglish heretic's."
 
 168 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 " No," said Susan, who had in fact only made the 
 answer to give herself time to think whether it were 
 possible to summon her husband. "They never seemed 
 to me birth marks." 
 
 "Woman," said Jean Kennedy, laying a strong, 
 though soft hand, on her wrist, " this is not gear for 
 trifling. Is the lass your ain bairn ? Ha ! I always 
 thought she had mair of the kindly Scot than of the 
 Southron about her. Hech ! so they made the puir 
 wean captive ! Wha gave her till you to keep ? Your 
 lord, I trow." 
 
 "The Lord of heaven and earth," replied Susan. 
 " My husband took her, the only living thing left on a 
 wreck off the Spurn Head." 
 
 " Hech, sirs !" exclaimed Mrs. Kennedy, evidently 
 much struck, but still exercising great self-command. 
 "And when fell this out ?" 
 
 " Two days after Low Sunday, in the year of grace 
 1568," returned Susan. 
 
 " My halidome !' ? again ejaculated Jean, in a low 
 voice, crossing herself. " And what became of honest 
 Ailie — I mean," catching herself up, " what befell those 
 that went with her ?" 
 
 " Not one lived," said Susan, gravely. " The mate 
 of my husband's ship took the little one from the arms 
 of her nurse, who seemed to have been left alone with 
 her by the crew, lashed to the wreck, and to have had 
 her life freshly beaten out by the winds and waves, for 
 she was still warm. I was then lying at Hull, and 
 they brought the babe to me, while there was still time 
 to save her life, with God's blessing." 
 
 " And the vessel ?" asked Jean. 
 
 " My husband held it to be the Bride of Dunbar, 
 plying between that port and Harfleur."
 
 XIV.] THE MONOGRAMS. 169 
 
 "Ay! ay! Blessed St. Bride!" muttered Jean 
 Kennedy, with an awe-stricken look ; then, collecting 
 herself, she added, " Were there no tokens, save these, 
 about the little one, by which she could be known ? " 
 
 " There was a gold chain with a cross, and what 
 you call a reliquary about her little neck, and a scroll 
 written in cipher among her swaddling bands ; but they 
 are laid up at home, at Bridgefield." 
 
 It was a perplexing situation for this simple-hearted 
 and truthful woman, and, on the other hand, Jean 
 Kennedy was no less devoted and loyal in her own 
 line, a good and conscientious woman, but shrewder, 
 and, by nature and breeding, far less scrupulous as to 
 absolute truth. 
 
 The one idea that Susan, in her confusion, could 
 keep hold of was that any admission of knowledge as 
 to who her Cis really was, would be a betrayal of her 
 husband's secret ; and on the other hand she saw that 
 Mrs. Kennedy, though most keen to discover every- 
 thing, and no doubt convinced that the maiden was her 
 Queen's child, was bent on not disclosing that fact to 
 the foster-mother. 
 
 She asked anxiously whether Mistress Cicely knew 
 of her being only an adopted child, and Susan replied 
 that they had intended that she never should learn 
 that she was of alien birth ; but that it had been 
 revealed by the old sailor who had brought her on 
 board the Mastiff, though no one had heard him save 
 young Humfrey and the girl herself, and they had been, 
 so far as she knew, perfectly reserved on the subject. 
 
 Jean Kennedy then inquired how the name of Cicely 
 had been given, and whether the child had been so 
 baptized by Protestant rites. 
 
 ""Wot you who the maid may be, madam?" Susan
 
 170 UNKNOWN TO HISTOKY. [CHAP. 
 
 took courage to ask ; but the Scotswoman would not 
 be disconcerted, and replied, 
 
 " How suld I ken without a sight of the tokens ? 
 Gin I had them, maybe I might give a guess, but there 
 was mony a leal Scot sairly bestead, wife and wean 
 and all, in her Majesty's cause that wearie spring." 
 
 Here Cis stirred in her sleep, and both women were 
 at her side in a moment, but she did not wake. 
 
 Jean Kennedy stood gazing at the girl with eager- 
 ness that she did not attempt to conceal, studying each 
 feature in detail; but Cis showed in her sleep very 
 little of her royal lineage, which betrayed itself far 
 more in her gait and bearing than in her features. 
 Susan could not help demanding of the nurse whether 
 she saw any resemblance that could show the maiden's 
 parentage. 
 
 The old lady gave a kind of Scotch guttural sound 
 expressive of disappointment, and said, "I'll no say 
 but I've seen the like beetle-broo. But we'll waken 
 the bairn with our clavers. I'll away the noo. Maister 
 Gorion will see her again ere night, but it were ill to 
 break her sleep, the puir lassie !" 
 
 Nevertheless, she could not resist bending over and 
 kissing the sleeper, so gently that there was no move- 
 ment. Then she left the room, and Susan stood with 
 clasped hands. 
 
 " My child ! my child ! Oh, is it coming on thee ? 
 Wilt thou be taken from me ! Oh, and to what a fate ! 
 And to what hands ! They will never never love thee as 
 we have done ! God, protect her, and be her Father." 
 
 And Susan knelt by the bed in such a paroxysm of 
 grief that her husband, coming in unshod that he might 
 not disturb the girl, apprehended that she had become 
 seriously worse.
 
 XIV.] THE MONOGRAMS. 171 
 
 However, his entrance awoke her, and she found 
 herself much better, and was inclined to talk, so he sat 
 down on a chest by the bed, and related what Diccon 
 had told him of the reappearance of the woman with 
 the basket of spar trinkets. 
 
 " Beads and bracelets," said Cicely. 
 
 " Ay ?" said he. " What knowest thou of them ?" 
 
 " Only that she spake the words so often ; and the 
 Queen, just ere that doctor began his speech, asked of 
 me whether she did not sell beads and bracelets." 
 
 " 'Tis a password, no doubt, and we must be on our 
 guard," said Eichard, while his wife demanded with 
 whom Diccon had seen her speaking. 
 
 " With Gorion," returned he. " That was what 
 made the lad suspect something, knowing that the 
 chirurgeon can barely speak three sentences in any 
 tongue but his own, and those are in their barbarous 
 Scotch. I took the boy with me and inquired here, 
 there, and everywhere this afternoon, but could find no 
 one who had ever seen or heard of any one like her." 
 
 "Tell me, Cis," exclaimed Susan, with a sudden 
 conviction, " was she like in any fashion to Tibbott the 
 huckster- woman who brought young Babington into 
 trouble three years agone ?" 
 
 "Women's heads all run on one notion," said 
 Eichard. " Can there be no secret agents save poor 
 Cuthbert, whom I believe to be beyond seas ?" 
 
 " Nay, but hear what saith the child ? " asked 
 Susan. 
 
 "This woman was not nearly so old as Tibbott," 
 said Cis, " nor did she walk with a staff, nor had she 
 those grizzled black brows that were wont to frighten 
 me." 
 
 " But was she tall ?" asked Susan.
 
 172 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 " Oil yes, mother. She was very tall — she came 
 after Diccon and me with long strides — yet it could 
 never have been Tibbott!" 
 
 Susan had reasons for thinking otherwise, but she 
 could not pursue the subject at that time, as she had 
 to go down to supper with her husband, and privacy 
 was impossible. Even at night, nobody enjoyed exten- 
 sive quarters, and but for Cicely's accident she would 
 have slept with Dyot, the tirewoman, who had arrived 
 with the baggage, which included a pallet bed for them. 
 However, the young lady had been carried to a chamber 
 intended for one of Queen Mary's suite ; and there it 
 was decreed that she should remain for the night, the 
 mother sleeping with her, while the father and son 
 betook themselves to the room previously allotted to 
 the family. Only on the excuse of going to take out 
 her husband's gear from the mails was Susan able to 
 secure a few words with him, and then by ordering 
 out Diccon, Dyot, and the serving-man. Then she 
 could succeed in saying, " Mine husband, all will soon 
 out — Mistress Kennedy and Master Gorion have seen 
 the brands on the child's shoulders. It is my belief 
 that she of the ' beads and bracelets ' bade the chirur- 
 geon look for them. Else, why should he have thrust 
 himself in for a hurt that women-folk had far better 
 have tended ? Now, that kinsman of yours knew that 
 poor Cis was none of ours, and gave her a hint of it 
 long ago — that is, if Tibbott were he, and not some- 
 thing worse." 
 
 Eichard shook his head. " Give a woman a hint of 
 a seminary priest in disguise, and she would take a 
 new-born baby for one. I tell thee I heard that 
 Cuthbert was safe in Paris. But, be that as it may, I 
 trust thou hast been discreet."
 
 XIV.] THE MONOGRAMS. 173 
 
 " So I strove to be," said Susan. " Mrs. Kennedy 
 questioned me, and I told her." 
 
 " What ?" sharply demanded her husband. 
 
 " Nought but truth," she answered, " save that I 
 showed no knowledge who the maid really is, nor 
 let her guess that you had read the scroll." 
 
 " That is well. Frank Talbot was scarce within 
 his duty when he gave me the key, and it were as 
 much as my head were worth to be known to have 
 been aware of the matter." To this Susan could only 
 assent, as they were interrupted by the serving-man 
 coming to ask directions about the bestowal of the 
 goods. 
 
 She was relieved by this short colloquy, but it was 
 a sad and wakeful night for her as Cicely slept by her 
 side. Her love was too truly motherly not to be 
 deeply troubled at the claim of one of differing religion 
 and nation, and who had so uncertain and perilous 
 a lot in which to place her child. There was also 
 the sense that all her dearest, including her eldest 
 son, were involved in the web of intrigue with per- 
 sons far mightier and more unscrupulous than them- 
 selves ; and that, however they might strive to preserve 
 their integrity, it would be very hard to avoid suspicion 
 and danger. 
 
 In this temporary abode, the household of the 
 Queen and of the Earl ate together, in the great hall, 
 and thus while breaking their fast in the morning Jean 
 Kennedy found opportunity to examine Eichard Talbot 
 on all the circumstances of the wreck of the Bride of 
 Dunbar, and the finding of the babe. She was much 
 more on her guard than the day before, and said that 
 she had a shrewd suspicion as to who the babe's parents 
 might be, but that she could not be certain without
 
 174 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 seeing the reliquary and the scroll. Eichard replied 
 that they were at home, but made no offer of sending 
 for them. "Nor will I do so," said he to his wife, 
 " unless I am dealt plainly with, and the lady herself 
 asks for them. Then should I have no right to detain 
 them." 
 
 M. Gorion would not allow his patient to leave 
 her room that day, and she had to remain there while 
 Susan was in attendance on the Queen, who did not 
 appear to her yet to have heard of the discovery, and 
 who was entering with zest into the routine of the 
 place, where Dr. Jones might be regarded as the 
 supreme legislator. 
 
 Each division of the great bath hall was fitted with 
 drying and dressing room, arranged commodiously accord- 
 ing to the degree of those who were to use them. Eoyalty, 
 of course, enjoyed a monopoly, and after the hot bath, 
 which the Queen took immediately after rising, she 
 breakfasted in her own apartments, and then came 
 forth, according to the regimen of the place, by playing 
 at Trowle Madame. A board with arches cut in, just 
 big enough to permit the entrance of the balls used in 
 playing at bowls was placed on the turf at a convenient 
 distance from the player. Each arch was numbered, 
 from one to thirteen, but the numbers were irregularly 
 arranged, and the game consisted in rolling bowls into 
 the holes in succession, each player taking a single 
 turn, and the winner reaching the highest number 
 first, — being, in fact, a sort of lawn bagatelle. Dr. 
 Jones recommended it as good to stretch the rheumatic 
 joints of his patients, and Queen Mary, an adept at all 
 out-of-door games, delighted in it, though she had refused 
 an offer to have the lawn arranged for it at Sheffield, 
 saying that it would only spoil a Buxton delight. She
 
 XIV.] THE MONOGRAMS. 175 
 
 was still too stiff to play herself, but found infinite 
 amusement in teaching the new-comers the game, and 
 poor Susan, with her thoughts far away, was scarcely 
 so apt a pupil as befitted a royal mistress, especially 
 as she missed Mrs. Kennedy. 
 
 When she came back, she found that the dame had 
 been sitting with the patient, and had made herself 
 very agreeable to the girl by drawing out from her all 
 she knew of her own story from beginning to end, 
 having first shown that she knew of the wreck of the 
 Bride of Dunbar. 
 
 " And, mother," said Cis, " she says she is nearly 
 certain that she knows who my true parents were, and 
 that she could be certain if she saw the swaddling 
 clothes and tokens you had with me. Have you, 
 mother ? I never knew of them." 
 
 "Yes, child, I have. "We did not wish to trouble 
 and perturb your mind, little one, while you were con- 
 tent to be our daughter." 
 
 " Ah, mother, I would fain be yours and father's 
 still. They must not take me from you. But sup- 
 pose I was some great and noble lord's daughter, and 
 had a great inheritance and lordship to give Humfrey ! " 
 
 " Alas, child ! Scottish inheritances are wont to 
 bring more strife than wealth." 
 
 Nevertheless, Cis went on supposing and building 
 castles that were pain and grief to her foreboding 
 auditor. That evening, however, Eichard called his 
 wife. It was late, but the northern sunset was only 
 just over, and Susan could wander out with him on 
 the greensward in front of the Earl's house. 
 
 " So this is the tale we are to be put off with," he 
 said, "from the Queen herself, ay, herself, and told 
 with such an air of truth that it would almost make
 
 176 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 me discredit the scroll. She told me with one of her 
 sweetest smiles how a favourite kinswoman of hers 
 wedded in secret with a faithful follower of hers, of the 
 clan Hepburn. Oh, I assure you it might have been 
 a ballad sung by a harper for its sadness. Well, this 
 fellow ventured too far in her service, and had to flee 
 to France to become an archer of the guard, while the 
 wife remained and died at Lochleven Castle, having 
 given birth to our Cis, whom the Queen in due time 
 despatched to her father, he being minded to have her 
 bred up in a French nunnery, sending her to Dunbar 
 to be there embarked in the Bride of Dunbar." 
 
 "And the father?" 
 
 " Oh, forsooth, the father ! It cost her as little to 
 dispose of him as of the mother. He was killed in 
 some brawl with the Huguenots ; so that the poor child 
 is altogether an orphan, beholden to our care, for which 
 she thanked me with tears in her eyes, that were more 
 true than mayhap the poor woman could help." 
 
 " Poor lady," said Susan. " Yet can it not be sooth 
 indeed?" 
 
 " Nay, dame, that may not be. The cipher is not 
 one that would be used in simply sending a letter to 
 the father." 
 
 " Might not the occasion have been used for cor- 
 responding in secret with French friends ? " 
 
 " I tell thee, wife, if I read one word of that letter, 
 I read that the child was her own, and confided to the 
 Abbess of Soissons ! I will read it to thee once more 
 ere I yield it up, that is if I ever do. Wherefore 
 cannot the woman speak truth to me ? I would be 
 true and faithful were I trusted, but to be thus put 
 off with lies makes a man ready at once to ride off 
 with the whole to the Queen in council."
 
 XIV.] THE MONOGRAMS. 177 
 
 " Think, but think, dear sir," pleaded Susan, " how 
 the poor lady is pressed, and how much she has to 
 fear on all sides." 
 
 " Ay, because lies have been meat and drink to 
 her, till she cannot speak a soothfast word nor know 
 an honest man when she sees him." 
 
 "What would she have ?" 
 
 "That Cis should remain with us as before, and 
 still pass for our daughter, till such time as these 
 negotiations are over, and she recover her kingdom. 
 That is — so far as I see — like not to be till latter 
 Lammas — but meantime what sayest thou, Susan ? 
 Ah ! I knew, anything to keep the child with thee ! 
 Well, be it so — though if I had known the web we 
 were to be wound into, I'd have sailed for the Indies 
 with Humfrey long ago !" 
 
 vol. I.
 
 178 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 CHAPTEE XY. 
 
 MOTHER AND CHILD. 
 
 Cicely was well enough the next day to leave her 
 room and come out on the summer's evening to enjoy 
 the novel spectacle of Trowle Madame, in which she 
 burned to participate, so soon as her shoulder should 
 be well. It was with a foreboding heart that her 
 adopted mother fell with her into the rear of the suite 
 who were attending Queen Mary, as she went down- 
 stairs to walk on the lawn, and sit under a canopy 
 whence she could watch either that game, or the 
 shooting at the butts which was being carried on a 
 little farther off. 
 
 " So, our bonnie maiden," said Mary, brightening as 
 she caught sight of the young girl, "thou art come 
 forth once more to rejoice mine eyes, a sight for sair 
 een, as they say in Scotland," and she kissed the fresh 
 cheeks with a tenderness that gave Susan a strange 
 pang. Then she asked kindly after the hurt, and bade 
 Cis sit at her feet, while she watched a match in 
 archery between some of the younger attendants, now 
 and then laying a caressing hand upon the slender 
 figure. 
 
 " Little one," she said, " I would fain have thee to 
 share my pillow. I have had no young bed-fellow
 
 XV.] MOTHER AND CHILD. 179 
 
 since Bess Pierrepoint left us. Wilt thou stoop to 
 corne and cheer the poor old caged bird ?" 
 
 " Oh, madam, how gladly will I do so if I may !" 
 cried Cicely, delighted. 
 
 " We will take good care of her, Mistress Talbot," 
 said Mary, " and deliver her up to you whole and sain 
 in the morning," and there was a quivering playfulness 
 in her voice. 
 
 " Your Grace is the mistress," answered Susan, with 
 a sadness not quite controlled. 
 
 " Ah ! you mock me, madam. Would that I were 1" 
 returned the Queen. " It is my Lord's consent that 
 we must ask. How say you, my Lord, may I have 
 this maiden for my warder at night ?" 
 
 Lord Shrewsbury was far from seeing any objection, 
 and the promise was given that Cis should repair to 
 the Queen's chamber for at least that night. She was 
 full of excitement at the prospect. 
 
 " Why look you so sadly at me, sweet mother ? " she 
 cried, as Susan made ready her hair, and assisted her in 
 all the arrangements for which her shoulder was still 
 too stiff; " you do not fear that they will hurt my arm ?" 
 
 * Xo, truly, my child. They have tender and skil- 
 ful hands." 
 
 " May be they will tell me the story of my parents," 
 said Cis ; " but you need never doubt me, mother. 
 Though I were to prove to be ever so great a lady, no 
 one could ever be mine own mother like you !" 
 
 " Scarcely in love, my child," said Susan, as she 
 wrapped the little figure in a loose gown, and gave her 
 such a kiss as parents seldom permitted themselves, in 
 the fear of " cockering" their children, which was con- 
 sidered to be a most reprehensible practice. Nor could 
 she refrain from closely pressing Cicely's hand as they
 
 180 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 passed through the corridor to the Queen's apartments, 
 gave the word to the two yeomen who were on guard 
 for the night at the head of the stairs, and tapped at 
 the outmost door of the royal suite of rooms. It was 
 opened by a French valet ; but Mrs. Kennedy in- 
 stantly advanced, took the maiden by the hand, and 
 with a significant smile said : " Gramercy, madam, we 
 will take unco gude tent of the lassie. A fair gude 
 nicht to ye." And Mrs. Talbot felt, as she put the little 
 hand into that of the nurse, and saw the door shut on 
 them, as if she had virtually given up her daughter, 
 and, oh ! was it for her good ? 
 
 Cis was led into the bedchamber, bright with 
 wax tapers, though the sky was not yet dark. She 
 heard a sound as of closing and locking double 
 doors, while some one drew back a crimson, gold-edged 
 velvet curtain, which she had seen several times, and 
 which it was whispered concealed the shrine where 
 Queen Mary performed her devotions. She had just 
 risen from before it, at the sound of Cis's entrance, 
 and two of her ladies, Mary Seaton and Marie de 
 Courcelles, seemed to have been kneeling with her. 
 She was made ready for bed, with a dark-blue velvet 
 gown corded round her, and her hair, now very gray, 
 braided beneath a little round cap, but a square of soft 
 cambric drapery had been thrown over her head, so as 
 to form a perfectly graceful veil, and shelter the features 
 that were aging. Indeed, when Queen Mary wore the 
 exquisite smile that now lit up her face as she held out 
 her arms, no one ever paused to think what those 
 lineaments really were. She held out her arms as 
 Cis advanced bashfully, and said : " Welcome, my 
 sweet bed-fellow, my little Scot — one more loyal sub- 
 ject come to me in my bondage."
 
 XV.] MOTHER AND CHILD. 181 
 
 Cis's impulse was to put a knee to the ground and kiss 
 the hands that received her. " Thou art our patient," 
 continued Mary. " I will see thee in bed ere I settle 
 myself there." The bed was a tall, large, carved erec- 
 tion, with sweeping green and silver curtains, and a 
 huge bank of lace-bordered pillows. A flight of low 
 steps facilitated the ascent ; and Cis, passive in this 
 new scene, was made to throw off her dressing-gown 
 and climb up. 
 
 " And now," said the Queen, " let me see the poor 
 little shoulder that hath suffered so much." 
 
 " My arm is still bound, madam," said Cis. But 
 she was not listened to ; and Mrs. Kennedy, much to 
 her discomfiture, turned back her under-garment. The 
 marks were, in fact, so placed as to be entirely out of 
 her own view, and Mrs. Susan had kept them from the 
 knowledge or remark of any one. They were also high 
 enough up to be quite clear from the bandages, and 
 thus she was amazed to hear the exclamation, " There ! 
 sooth enough." 
 
 '■ Monsieur Gorion could swear to them instantly." 
 
 " What is it ? Oh, what is it, madam ? " cried Cis, 
 affrighted ; " is there anything on my back ? Xo 
 plague spot, I hope ;" and her eyes grew round with 
 terror. 
 
 The Queen laughed. " Xo plague spot, sweet one, 
 save, perhaps, in the eyes of you Protestants, but to me 
 they are a gladsome sight — a token I never hoped 
 to see." 
 
 And the bewildered girl felt a pair of soft lips kiss 
 each mark in turn, and then the covering was quickly 
 and caressingly restored, and Mary added, " Lie down, 
 my child, and now to bed, to bed, my maids. Put out 
 the lights." Then, making the sign of the cross, as
 
 182 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP, 
 
 Cis had seen poor Antony Babington do, the Queen, 
 just as all the lights save one were extinguished, was 
 divested of her wrapper and veil, and took her place 
 beside Cis on the pillows. The two Maries left the 
 chamber, and Jean Kennedy disposed herself on a pallet 
 at the foot of the bed. 
 
 " And so," said the Queen, in a low voice, tender, 
 but with a sort of banter, " she thought she had the 
 plague spot on her little white shoulders. Didst thou 
 really not know what marks thou bearest, little one ? " 
 
 " No, madam," said Cis. " Is it what I have felt 
 with my fingers ? " 
 
 " Listen, child/' said Mary. " Art thou at thine 
 ease ; thy poor shoulder resting well ? There, then, 
 give me thine hand, and I will tell thee a tale. There 
 was a lonely castle in a lake, grim, cold, and northerly ; 
 and thither there was brought by angry men a captive 
 woman. They had dealt with her strangely and sub- 
 tilly ; they had laid on her the guilt of the crimes them- 
 selves had wrought; and when she clung to the one 
 man whom at least she thought honest, they had forced 
 and driven her into wedding him, only that all the 
 world might cry out upon her, forsake her, and deliver 
 her up into those cruel hands." 
 
 There was something irresistibly pathetic in Mary's 
 voice, and the maiden lay gazing at her with swimming 
 eyes. 
 
 " Thou dost pity that poor lady, sweet one ? There 
 was little pity for her then ! She had looked her last 
 on her lad - bairn ; ay, and they had said she had 
 striven to poison him, and they were breeding him up 
 to loathe the very name of his mother ; yea, and to hate 
 and persecute the Church of his father and his mother 
 both. And so it was, that the lady vowed that if
 
 XV.] MOTHER AXD CHILD. 183 
 
 another babe was granted to her, sprung of that last 
 strange miserable wedlock, these foes of hers should 
 have no part in it, nor knowledge of its very existence, 
 but that it should be bred up beyond their ken — safe 
 out of their reach. Ah ! child ; good Nurse Kennedy 
 can best tell thee how the jealous eyes and ears were 
 disconcerted, and in secrecy and sorrow that birth took 
 place." 
 
 Cis's heart was beating too fast for speech, but 
 there was a tight close pressure of the hand that Mary 
 had placed within hers. 
 
 " The poor mother," went on the Queen in a low 
 trembling voice, " durst have scarce one hour's joy of her 
 first and only daughter, ere the trusty Gorion took the 
 little one from her, to be nursed in a hut on the other 
 side of the lake. There," continued Mary, forgetting 
 the third person, " I hoped to have joined her, so soon 
 as I was afoot again. The faithful lavender lent me 
 her garments, and I was already in the boat, but the 
 men-at-arms were rude and would have pulled down 
 my muffler ; I raised my hand to protect myself, and 
 it was all too white. They had not let me stain it, 
 because the dye would not befit a washerwoman. So 
 there was I dragged back to ward again, and all our 
 plans overthrown. And it seemed safer and meeter to 
 put my little one out of reach of all my foes, even if 
 it were far away from her mother's aching heart. Not 
 one more embrace could I be granted, but my good 
 chaplain Ross — whom the saints rest — baptized her in 
 secret, and Gorion had set two marks on the soft flesh, 
 which he said could never be blotted out in after 
 years, and then her father's clanswoman, Alison Hep- 
 burn, undertook to carry her to France, with a letter 
 of mine bound up in her swathing clothes, committing
 
 184 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 her to the charge of my good aunt, the Abbess of 
 Soissons, in utter secrecy, until better days should 
 come. Alas ! I thought them not so far off. I 
 deemed that were I once beyond the clutches of 
 Morton, Euthven, and the rest, the loyal would rally 
 once more round my standard, and my crown would 
 be mine own, mine enemies and those of my Church 
 beneath my feet. Little did I guess that my escape 
 would only be to see them slain and routed, and that 
 when I threw myself on the hospitality of my cousin, 
 her tender mercies would prove such as I have found 
 them. ' Libera me, Domine, libera me! " 
 
 Cis began dimly to understand, but she was still 
 too much awed to make any demonstration, save a 
 convulsive pressure of the Queen's hand, and the 
 murmuring of the Latin prayer distressed her. 
 
 Presently Mary resumed. " Long, long did I hope 
 my little one was safely sheltered from all my troubles 
 in the dear old cloisters of Soissons, and that it was 
 caution in my good aunt the abbess that prevented my 
 hearing of her ; but through my faithful servants, my 
 Lord Flemyng, who had been charged to speed her from 
 Scotland, at length let me know that the ship in which 
 she sailed, the Bride of Dunbar, had been never heard 
 of more, and was thought to have been cast away in a 
 tempest that raged two days after she quitted Dun- 
 bar. And I — I shed some tears, but I could well 
 believe that the innocent babe had been safely wel- 
 comed among the saints, and I could not grieve that 
 she was, as I thought, spared from the doom that 
 rests upon the race of Stewart. Till one week back, 
 I gave thanks for that child of sorrow as cradled in 
 Paradise." 
 
 Then followed a pause, and then Cis said in a low
 
 XV.] MOTHER AND CHILD. 185 
 
 trembling voice, "And it was from the wreck of the 
 Bride of Dunbar that I was taken ? " 
 
 " Thou hast said it, child ! My bairn, my bonnie 
 bairn ! " and the girl was absorbed in a passionate 
 embrace and strained convulsively to a bosom which 
 heaved with the sobs of tempestuous emotion, and the 
 caresses were redoubled upon her again and again with 
 increasing fervour that almost frightened her. 
 
 " Speak to me ! Speak to me ! Let me hear my 
 child's voice." 
 
 " Oh, madam " 
 
 " Call me mother ! Never have I heard that sound 
 from my child's lips. I have borne two children, two 
 living children, only to be stripped of both. Speak, 
 child — let me hear thee." 
 
 Cis contrived to say "Mother, my mother," but 
 scarcely with effusion. It was all so strange, and she 
 could not help feeling as if Susan were the mother 
 she knew and was at ease with. All this was much 
 too like a dream, from which she longed to awake. 
 And there was Mrs. Kennedy too, rising up and 
 crying quite indignantly — " Mother indeed ! Is that all 
 thou hast to say, as though it were a task under the 
 rod, when thou art owned for her own bairn by the 
 fairest and most ill-used queen in Christendom ? Out 
 on thee ! Have the Southron loons chilled thine heart 
 and made thee no leal to thine ain mother that hath 
 hungered for thee ?" 
 
 The angry tones, and her sense of her own short- 
 comings, could only make Cis burst into tears. 
 
 " Hush, hush, nurse ! thou shalt not chide my new- 
 found bairn. She will learn to ken us better in 
 time if they will leave her with us," said Mary. 
 " There, there ; greet not so sair, mine ain. I ask
 
 186 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 thee not to share my sorrows and my woes. That 
 Heaven forefend. I ask thee but to come from time 
 to time and cheer my nights, and lie on my weary 
 bosom to still its ache and yearning, and let me feel 
 that I have indeed a child." 
 
 " Oh, mother, mother !" Cis cried again in a stifled 
 voice, as one who could not utter her feelings, but not 
 in the cold dry tone that had called forth Mrs. 
 Kennedy's wrath. " Pardon me, I know not — I 
 cannot say what I would. But oh ! I would do any- 
 thing for — for your Grace." 
 
 " All that I would ask of thee is to hold thy peace 
 and keep our counsel. Be Cicely Talbot by day as 
 ever. Only at night be mine — my child, my Bride, 
 for so wast thou named after our Scottish patroness. 
 It was a relic of her sandals that was hung about thy 
 neck, and her ship in which thou diclst sail ; and lo, she 
 heard and guarded thee, and not merely saved thee from 
 death, but provided thee a happy joyous home and 
 well -nurtured childhood. We must render her our 
 thanks, my child. Beata Brigitta, ora pro nobis!' 
 
 " It was the good God Almighty who saved me, 
 madam," said Cis bluntly. 
 
 " Alack ! I forgot that yonder good lady could 
 not fail to rear thee in the outer darkness of her 
 heresy ; but thou wilt come back to us, my ain wee 
 thing ! Heaven forbid that I should deny Whose Hand 
 it was that saved thee, but it was at the blessed 
 Bride's intercession. No doubt she reserved for me, 
 who had turned to her in my distress, this precious 
 consolation ! But I will not vex thy little heart with 
 debate this first night. To be mother and child is 
 enough for us. What art thou pondering?" 
 
 " Only, madam, who was it that told your Grace 
 that I was a stranger ? "
 
 XV.] MOTHER AND CHILD. 187 
 
 " The marks, bairnie, the marks," said Mary. 
 " They told their own tale to good Nurse Jeanie ; ay, 
 and to Gorion, whom we blamed for his cruelty in 
 branding my poor little lammie." 
 
 " Ah ! but," said Cicely, " did not yonder woman 
 with the beads and bracelets bid him look ? " 
 
 If it had been lighter, Cicely would have seen that 
 the Queen was not pleased at the inquiry, but she 
 only heard the answer from Jean's bed, " Hout no, I 
 wad she knew nought of thae brands. How should 
 she?" 
 
 " Nay," said Cicely, " she — no, it was Tibbott the 
 huckster-woman told me long ago that I was not what 
 I seemed, and that I came from the north — I cannot 
 understand ! Were they the same ?" 
 
 " The bairn kens too much," said Jean. " Dinna 
 ye deave her Grace with your speirings, my lammie. 
 Ye'll have to learn to keep a quiet sough, and to see 
 mickle ye canna understand here." 
 
 " Silence her not, good nurse," said the Queen, " it 
 imports us to know this matter. "What saidst thou of 
 Tibbott?" 
 
 " She was the woman who got Antony Babington 
 into trouble," explained Cicely. " I deemed her a 
 witch, for she would hint strange things concerning me, 
 but my father always believed she was a kinsman of 
 his, who was concerned in the Rising of the North, 
 and who, he said, had seen me brought in to Hull 
 from the wreck." 
 
 " Ay ? " said the Queen, as a sign to her to con- 
 tinue. 
 
 " And meseemed," added Cicely timidly, " that the 
 strange woman at Tideswell who talked of beads and 
 bracelets minded me of Tibbott, though she was
 
 188 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 younger, and had not her grizzled brows ; but father 
 says that cannot be, for Master Cuthbert Langston is 
 beyond seas at Paris." 
 
 " Soh ! that is well," returned Mary, in a tone of 
 relief. " See, child. That Langston of whom you 
 speak was a true friend of mine. He has done much 
 for me under many disguises, and at the time of thy 
 birth he lived as a merchant at Hull, trading with 
 Scotland. Thus it may have become known to him 
 that the babe he had seen rescued from the wreck was 
 one who had been embarked at Dunbar. But no more 
 doth he know. The secret of thy birth, my poor 
 bairn, was entrusted to none save a few of those about 
 me, and all of those who are still living thou hast 
 already seen. Lord Flemyng, who put thee on board, 
 believed thee the child of James Hepburn of Lillie- 
 burn, the archer, and of my poor Mary Stewart, a 
 kinswoman of mine ain ; and it was in that belief 
 doubtless that he, or Tibbott, as thou call'st him, would 
 have spoken with thee." 
 
 " But the woman at Tideswell," said Cis, who was 
 getting bewildered — " Diccon said that she spake to 
 Master Gorion." 
 
 " That did she, and pointed thee out to him. It is 
 true. She is another faithful friend of mine, and no 
 doubt she had the secret from him. But no more ques- 
 tions, child. Enough that we sleep in each other's arms." 
 
 It was a strange night. Cis was more conscious of 
 wonder, excitement, and a certain exultation, than of 
 actual affection. She had not been bred up so as to 
 hunger and crave for love. Indeed she had been 
 treated with more tenderness and indulgence than was 
 usual with people's own daughters, and her adopted 
 parents had absorbed her undoubting love and respect.
 
 XV.] MOTHER AND CHILD. 189 
 
 Queen Mary's fervent caresses were at least as em- 
 barrassing as they were gratifying, because she did not 
 kuow what response to make, and the novelty and 
 wonder of the situation were absolutely distressing. 
 
 They would have been more so but for the Queen's 
 tact. She soon saw that she was overwhelming the 
 girl, and that time must be given for her to become 
 accustomed to the idea. So, saying tenderly something 
 about rest, she lay quietly, leaving Cis, as she supposed, 
 to sleep. This, however, was impossible to the girl, 
 except in snatches which made her have to prove to 
 herself again and again that it was not all a dream. 
 The last of these wakenings was by daylight, as full as 
 the heavy curtains would admit, and she looked up into 
 a face that was watching her with such tender wistful- 
 ness that it drew from her perforce the word " Mother." 
 
 " Ah ! that is the tone with the true ring in it. I 
 thank thee and I bless thee, my bairn," said Mary, 
 making over her the sign of the cross, at which the 
 maiden winced as at an incantation. Then she added, 
 " My little maid, we must be up and stirring. Mind, 
 no word of all this. Thou art Cicely Talbot by day, 
 as ever, and only my child, my Bride, mine ain wee 
 thing, my princess by night. Canst keep counsel ?" 
 
 " Surely, madam," said Cis, " I have known for 
 five years that I was a foundling on the wreck, and 
 I never uttered a word." 
 
 Mary smiled. " This is either a very simple child 
 or a very canny one," she said to Jean Kennedy. 
 " Either she sees no boast in being of royal blood, or 
 she deems that to have the mother she has found is 
 worse than the being the nameless foundling." 
 
 w Oh ! madam, mother, not so ! I meant but that 
 I had held my tongue when I had something to tell !"
 
 190 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP, 
 
 " Let thy secrecy stand thee in good stead, child," 
 said the Queen. " Eemember that did the bruit once 
 get abroad, thou wouldest assuredly be torn from 
 me, to be mewed up where the English Queen could 
 hinder thee from ever wedding living man. Ay, and 
 it might bring the head of thy foster-father to the 
 block, if he were thought to have concealed the matter. 
 I fear me thou art too young for such a weighty secret." 
 
 " I am seventeen years old, madam," returned Cis, 
 with dignity ; " I have kept the other secret since I 
 was twelve." 
 
 " Then thou wilt, I trust, have the wisdom not to 
 take the princess on thee, nor to give any suspicion that 
 we are more to one another than the caged bird and 
 the bright linnet that comes to sing on the bars of 
 her cage. Only, child, thou must get from Master 
 Talbot these tokens that I hear of. Hast seen them ? " 
 
 " Never, madam ; indeed I knew not of them." 
 
 " I need them not to know thee for mine own, but 
 it is not well that they should be in stranger hands. 
 Thou canst say — But hush, we must be mum for the 
 present." 
 
 For it became necessary to admit the Queen's 
 morning draught of spiced milk, borne in by one of 
 her suite who had to remain uninitiated ; and from 
 that moment no more confidences could be exchanged, 
 until the time that Cis had to leave the Queen's 
 chamber to join the rest of the household in the daily 
 prayers offered in the chapel. Her dress and hair had, 
 according to promise, been carefully attended to, but 
 she was only finished and completed just in time to 
 join her adopted parents on the way down the stairs. 
 She knelt in the hall for their blessing — an action as 
 regular and as mechanical as the morning kiss and
 
 XV.] MOTHER AND CHILD. 191 
 
 greeting now are between parent and child ; but there 
 was something in her face that made Susan say to 
 herself, " She knows all." 
 
 They could not speak to one another till not only 
 matins but breakfast were ended, and then — after the 
 somewhat solid meal — the ladies had to put on their 
 out-of-door gear to attend Queen Mary in her daily 
 exercise. The dress was not much, high summer as it 
 was, only a loose veil over the stiff cap, and a fan in 
 the gloved hand to act as parasol. However the 
 retirement gave Cicely an interval in which to say, 
 " mother, she has told me," and as Susan sat holding 
 out her arms, the adopted child threw herself on her 
 knees, hiding her face on that bosom where she had 
 found comfort all her life, and where, her emotion at 
 last finding full outlet, she sobbed without knowing 
 why for some moments, till she started nervously at 
 the entrance of Eichard, saying, " The Queen is asking 
 for you both. But how now ? Is all told ?" 
 
 "Ay," whispered his wife. 
 
 " So ! And why these tears ? Tell me, my maid, 
 was not she good to thee ? Doth she seek to take thee 
 into her own keeping ?" 
 
 " Oh no, sir, no," said Cis, still kneeling against the 
 motherly knee and struggling with her sobs. " No one 
 is to guess. I am to be Cicely Talbot all the same, 
 till better days come to her." 
 
 " The safer and the happier for thee, child. Here 
 are two honest hearts that will not cast thee off, even 
 if, as I suspect, yonder lady would fain be quit of thee." 
 
 " Oh no !" burst from Cicely, then, shocked at 
 having committed the offence of interrupting him, she 
 added, " Dear sir, I crave your pardon, but, indeed, she 
 is all fondness and love."
 
 192 UNKNOWN TO IUSTOKY. [CHAP. 
 
 " Then what means this passion ?" he asked, looking 
 from one to the other. 
 
 " It means only that the child's senses and spirits 
 are overcome," said Susan, " and that she scarce knows 
 how to take this discovery. Is it not so, sweetheart ?" 
 
 " Oh, sweet mother, yes in sooth. You will ever 
 be mother to me indeed !" 
 
 "Well said, little maid!" said Eichard. "Thou 
 mightest search the world over and never hap upon 
 such another." 
 
 " But she oweth duty to the true mother," said 
 Susan, with her hand on the girl's neck. 
 
 " We wot well of that," answered her husband, " and 
 I trow the first is to be secret." 
 
 " Yea, sir," said Cis, recovering herself, " none save 
 the very few who tended her, the Queen at Lochleven, 
 know who I verily am. Such as were aware of the 
 babe being put on board ship at Dunbar, thought me 
 the daughter of a Scottish archer, a Hepburn, and 
 she, the Queen my mother, would have me pass as 
 such to those who needs must know I am not myself." 
 
 " Trust her for making a double web when a single 
 one would do," muttered Eichard, but so that the girl 
 could not hear. 
 
 " There is no need for any to know at present," said 
 Susan hastily, moved perhaps by the same dislike to 
 deception ; " but ah, there's that fortune-telling woman." 
 
 Cis, proud of her secret information, here explained 
 that Tibbott was indeed Cuthbert Langston, but not 
 the person whose password was " beads and bracelets," 
 and that both alike could know no more than the story 
 of the Scottish archer and his young wife ; but they 
 were here interrupted by the appearance of Diccon, 
 who had been sent by my Lord himself to hasten them.
 
 XV.] MOTHER AND CHILD. 193 
 
 at the instance of the Queen. Master Eichard sent the 
 boy on with his mother, saying he would wait and 
 bring Cis, as she had still to compose her hair and coif, 
 which had become somewhat disordered. 
 
 '• My maiden," he said, gravely, " I have somewhat 
 to say unto thee. Thou art in a stranger case than 
 any woman of thy years between the four seas ; nay, 
 it may be in Christendom. It is woeful hard for thee 
 not to be a traitor through mere lapse of tongue to 
 thine own mother, or else to thy Queen. So I tell 
 thee this once for all. See as little, hear as little, and, 
 above all, say as little as thou canst." 
 
 " Not to mother ?" asked Cis. 
 
 " No, not to her, above all not to me ; and, my girl, 
 pray God daily to keep thee true and loyal, and guard 
 thee and the rest of us from snares. Now have with 
 thee. We may tarry no longer !" 
 
 All went as usual for the rest of the day, so that 
 the last night was like a dream, until it became plain 
 that Cicely was again to share the royal apartment. 
 
 " Ah, I have thirsted for this hour !" said Mary, 
 holding out her arms and drawing her daughter to her 
 bosom. " Thou art a canny lassie, mine ain wee thing. 
 Xone could have guessed from thy bearing that there 
 was aught betwixt us." 
 
 " In sooth, madam," said the girl, " it seems that I 
 am two maidens in one — Cis Talbot by day, and Bride 
 of Scotland by night." 
 
 " That is well ! Be all Cis Talbot by day. When 
 there is need to dissemble, believe in thine own feign- 
 ing. 'Tis for want of that art that these clumsy 
 Southrons make themselves but a laughing-stock when- 
 ever they have a secret." 
 
 Cis did not understand the maxim, and submitted 
 vol. i. o
 
 194 UNKNOWN TO HISTOEY. [CHAP. 
 
 in silence to some caresses before she said, " My father 
 will give your Grace the tokens when we return." 
 
 "Thy father, child?" 
 
 " I crave your pardon, madam, it comes too trip- 
 pingly to my tongue thus to term Master Talbot." 
 
 " So much the better. Thy tongue must not lose 
 the trick. I did but feel a moment's fear lest thou 
 hadst not been guarded enough with yonder sailor 
 man, and had let him infer over much." 
 
 " 0, surely, madam, you never meant me to with- 
 hold the truth from father and mother," cried Cis, in 
 astonishment and dismay. 
 
 " Tush ! silly maid !" said the Queen, really angered. 
 " Father and mother, forsooth ! Now shall we have a 
 fresh coil ! I should have known better than to have 
 trusted thy word." 
 
 " Never would I have given my word to deceive 
 them," cried Cis, hotly. 
 
 " Lassie !" exclaimed Jean Kennedy, "ye forget to 
 whom ye speak." 
 
 " Nay," said Mary, recovering herself, or rather see- 
 ing how best to punish, " 'tis the poor bairn who will 
 be the sufferer. Our state cannot be worse than it is 
 already, save that I shall lose her presence, but it 
 pities me to think of her." 
 
 " The secret is safe with them," repeated Cis. " 
 madam, none are to be trusted like them." 
 
 " Tell me not," said the Queen. " The sailor's 
 blundering loyalty will not suffer him to hold his 
 tongue. I would lay my two lost crowns that he is 
 down on his honest knees before my Lord craving par- 
 don for having unwittingly fostered one of the viper 
 brood. Then, via ! off goes a post — boots and spurs are 
 no doubt already on — and by and by comes Knollys,
 
 XV.] MOTHER AND CHILD. 195 
 
 or Carey, or Walsingham, to bear off the perilous 
 maiden to walk in Queen Bess's train, and have her 
 ears boxed when her Majesty is out of humour, or 
 when she gets weary of dressing St. Katherine's hair, 
 and weds the man of her choice, she begins to taste 
 of prison walls, and is a captive for the rest of her 
 days." 
 
 Cis was reduced to tears, and assurances that if 
 the Queen would only broach the subject to Master 
 Richard, she would perceive that he regarded as sacred, 
 secrets that were not his own ; and to show that he 
 meant no betrayal, she repeated his advice as to seeing, 
 hearing, and saying as little as possible. 
 
 " Wholesome counsel !" said Mary. " Cheer thee, 
 lassie mine, I will credit whatever thou wilt of this 
 foster-father of thine until I see it disproved ; and for 
 the good lady his wife, she hath more inward, if less 
 outw T ard, grace than any dame of the mastiff brood 
 which guards our prison court ! I should have 
 warned thee that they were not excepted from those 
 who may deem thee my poor Mary's child." 
 
 Cicely did not bethink herself that, in point of fact, 
 she had not communicated her royal birth to her 
 adopted parents, but that it had been assumed between 
 them, as, indeed, they had not mentioned their previous 
 knowledge. Mary presently proceeded — " After all, 
 we may not have to lay too heavy a burden on their 
 discretion. Better days are coming. One day shall 
 our faithful lieges open the way to freedom and royalty, 
 and thou shalt have whatever boon thou wouldst ask, 
 even were it pardon for my Lady Shrewsbury." 
 
 " There is one question I would fain ask, Madam 
 mother : Doth my real father yet live ? The Earl 
 of "
 
 196 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 Jean Kennedy made a sound of indignant warning 
 and consternation, cutting her short in dismay; but 
 the Queen gripped her hand tightly for some moments, 
 and then said : " 'Tis not a thing to speir of me, child, 
 of me, the most woefully deceived and forlorn of ladies. 
 Never have I seen nor heard from him since the part- 
 ing at Carbery Hill, when he left me to bear the 
 brunt ! Folk say that he took ship for the north. 
 Believe him dead, child. So were it best for us both ; 
 but never name him to me more." 
 
 Jean Kennedy knew, though the girl did not, what 
 these words conveyed. If Bothwell no longer lived, 
 there would be no need to declare the marriage null 
 and void, and thus sacrifice his daughter's position ; 
 but supposing him to be in existence, Mary had 
 already shown herself resolved to cancel the very 
 irregular bonds which had united them, — a most 
 easy matter for a member of her Church, since they 
 had been married by a Beformed minister, and Both- 
 well had a living wife at the time. Of all this Cicely 
 was absolutely ignorant, and was soon eagerly listening 
 as the Queen spoke of her hopes of speedy deliverance. 
 " My son, my Jamie, is working for me ! " she said. 
 " Nay, dost not ken what is in view for me ?" 
 
 "No, madam, my good father, Master Bichard, I 
 mean, never tells aught that he hears in my Lord's 
 closet." 
 
 " That is to assure me of his discretion, I trow ! 
 But this is no secret ! No treason against our well- 
 beloved cousin Bess ! Oh no ! But thy brother, mine 
 ain lad -bairn, hath come to years of manhood, and 
 hath shaken himself free of the fetters of Knox and 
 Morton and Buchanan, and all their clamjamfrie. 
 The Stewart lion hath been too strong for them. The
 
 XV.] MOTHER AND CHILD. 197 
 
 puir laddie hath, true men about him, at last, — the 
 Master of Gray, as they call him, and Esme Stewart of 
 Aubigny, a Scot polished as the French know how 
 to brighten Scottish steel. Nor will the lad bide 
 that his mother should pine longer in durance. He 
 yearns for her, and hath writ to her and to Elizabeth 
 offering her a share in his throne. Poor laddie, what 
 would be outrecuidance in another is but duteousness 
 in him. "What will he say when we bring him a 
 sister as well as a mother ? They tell me that he is 
 an unco scholar, but Uncouth in his speech and man- 
 ners, and how should it be otherwise with no woman 
 near him save my old Lady Mar ? We shall have to 
 take him in hand to teach him fair courtesy." 
 
 " Sure he will be an old pupil !" said Cis, " if he be 
 more than two years my elder." 
 
 " Never fear, if we can find a winsome young bride 
 for him, trust mother, wife, and sister for moulding 
 him to kingly bearing. We will make our home in 
 Stirling or Linlithgow, we two, and leave Holyrood to 
 him. I have seen too much there ever to thole the 
 sight of those chambers, far less of the High Street of 
 Edinburgh ; but Stirling, bonnie Stirling, ay, I would 
 fain ride a hawking there once more. Methinks a 
 Highland breeze would put life and youth into me 
 again. There's a little chamber opening into mine, 
 where I will bestow thee, my Lady Bride of Scot- 
 land, for so long as I may keep thee. Ah ! it will not 
 be for long. They will be seeking thee, my brave 
 courtly faithful kindred of Lorraine, and Scottish 
 nobles and English lords will vie for this little hand 
 of thine, where courses the royal blood of both realms." 
 
 " So please you, madam, my mother " 
 
 " Eh ? What is it ? Who is it ? I deemed that
 
 198 UNKNOWN TO HISTOEY. [CHAR 
 
 yonder honourable dame had kept thee from all the 
 frolics and foibles of the poor old profession. Fear 
 not to tell me, little one. Eemember thine own 
 mother hath a heart for such matters. I guess 
 already. C'etait un beau gargon, ce pauvre Antoine?' 
 
 " Oh no, madam," exclaimed Cicely. " When the 
 sailor Goatley disclosed that I was no child of my 
 father's, of Master Eichard I mean, and was a nameless 
 creature belonging to no one, Humfrey Talbot stood 
 forth and pledged himself to wed me so soon as we 
 were old enough." 
 
 "And what said the squire and dame ?" 
 
 " That I should then be indeed their daughter." 
 
 "And hath the contract gone no farther ?" 
 
 "No, madam. He hath been to the North with 
 Captain Frobisher, and since that to the Western Main, 
 and we look for his return even now." 
 
 " How long is it since this pledge, as thou callest 
 it, was given ?" 
 
 " Five years next Lammas tide, madam." 
 
 " Was it by ring or token ?" 
 
 " No, madam. Our mother said we were too young, 
 but Humfrey meant it with all his heart." 
 
 " Humfrey ! That was the urchin who must 
 needs traverse the correspondence through the seeming 
 Tibbott, and so got Antony removed from about us. 
 A stout lubberly Yorkshire lad, fed on beef and pud- 
 ding, a true Talbot, a mere English bull-dog who will 
 have lost all the little breeding he had, while commit- 
 ting spulzie and piracy at sea on his Catholic Majesty's 
 ships. Bah, mon enfant, I am glad of it. Had he 
 been a graceful young courtly page like the poor 
 Antony, it might have been a little difficult, but a 
 great English carle like that, whom thou hast not seen
 
 XV.] MOTHER AND CHILD. 199 
 
 for five years — " She made a gesture with her grace- 
 ful hands as if casting away a piece of thistledown. 
 
 " Humfrey is my very good — my very good brother, 
 madam," cried Cicely, casting about for words to 
 defend him, and not seizing the most appropriate. 
 
 " Brother, quotha ? Yea, and as good brother he shall 
 be to thee, and welcome, so long as thou art Cis Talbot 
 by day — but no more, child. Princesses mate not with 
 Yorkshire esquires. When the Lady Bride takes her 
 place in the halls of her forefathers, she will be the 
 property of Scotland, and her hand will be sought by 
 princes. Ah, lassie ! let it not grieve thee. One thing 
 thy mother can tell thee from her own experience. 
 There is more bliss in mating with our equals, by the 
 choice of others, than in following our own wild will. 
 Thou gazest at me in wonder, but verily my happy 
 days were with my gentle young king — and so will 
 thine be, I pray the saints happier and more endur- 
 ing than ever were mine. Nothing has ever lasted 
 with me but captivity, libera me." 
 
 And in the murmured repetition the mother fell 
 asleep, and the daughter, who had slumbered little the 
 night before, could not but likewise drop into the 
 world of soothing oblivion, though with a dull feeling 
 of aching and yearning towards the friendly kindly 
 Humfrey, yet with a certain exultation in the fate 
 that seemed to be carrying her on inevitably beyond 
 his reach.
 
 200 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. fCHAP. 
 
 CHAPTEE XYI. 
 
 THE PEAK CAVERN. 
 
 It was quite true that at this period Queen Mary had 
 good hope of liberation in the most satisfactory 
 manner possible — short of being hailed as English 
 Queen. Negotiations were actually on foot with James 
 VI. and Elizabeth for her release. James had written 
 to her with his own hand, and she had for the first 
 time consented to give him the title of King of Scot- 
 land. The project of her reigning jointly with him 
 had been mooted, and each party was showing how 
 enormous a condescension it would be in his or her 
 eyes ! Thus there was no great unlikelihood that 
 there would be a recognition of the Lady Bride, and 
 that she would take her position as the daughter of a 
 queen. Therefore, when Mary contrived to speak to 
 Master Bichard Talbot and his wife in private, she 
 was able to thank them with gracious condescension 
 for the care they had bestowed in rearing her daughter, 
 much as if she had voluntarily entrusted the maiden to 
 them, saying she trusted to be in condition to reward 
 them. 
 
 Mistress Susan's heart swelled high with pain, as 
 though she had been thanked for her care of Hum- 
 frey or Diccon, and her husband answered, " We seek
 
 XVI.] THE PEAK CAVERX. 201 
 
 no reward, madam. The damsel herself, while she 
 was ours, was reward enough." 
 
 " And I must still entreat, that of your goodness 
 you will let her remain yours for a little longer," said 
 Maty, with a touch of imperious grace, " until this 
 treaty is over, and I am free, it is better that she con- 
 tinues to pass for your daughter. The child herself 
 has sworn to me by her great gods," said Mary, smil- 
 ing with complimentary grace, " that you will pre- 
 serve her secret — nay, she becomes a little fury when 
 I express my fears lest you should have scruples." 
 
 " No, madam, this is no state secret ; such as 1 
 might not with honour conceal," returned Eichard. 
 
 " There is true English sense ! " exclaimed Mary. 
 u I may then count on your giving my daughter the 
 protection of your name and your home until I can 
 reclaim her and place her in her true position. Yea, 
 and if your concealment should give offence, and bring 
 you under any displeasure of my good sister, those who 
 have so saved and tended my daughter will have the 
 first claim to whatever I can give when restored to 
 my kingdom." 
 
 " We are much beholden for your Grace's favour," 
 said Eichard, somewhat stiffly, " but I trust never to 
 serve any land save mine own." 
 
 " Ah ! there is your fi&retd" cried Mary. " Happy 
 is my sister to have subjects with such a point of 
 honour. Happy is my child to have been bred up by 
 such parents ! " 
 
 Eichard bowed. It was all a man could do at such 
 a speech, and Mary further added, " She has told me 
 to what bounds went your goodness to her. It is well 
 that you acted so prudently that the children's hearts 
 were not engaged ; for, as we all know but too well, 
 royal blood should have no heart."
 
 202 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 " I am quite aware of it, madam/' returned Bich- 
 ard, and there for the time the conversation ended. 
 The Queen had been most charming, full of gratitude, 
 and perfectly reasonable in her requests, and yet there 
 was some flaw in the gratification of both, even while 
 neither thought the disappointment would go very 
 hard with their son. Ei chard could never divest him- 
 self of the instinctive prejudice with which soft words 
 inspire men of his nature, and Susan's maternal heart 
 was all in revolt against the inevitable, not merely 
 grieving over the wrench to her affections, but full of 
 forebodings and misgivings as to the future welfare of 
 her adopted child. Even if the brightest hopes should 
 be fulfilled ; the destiny of a Scottish princess did not 
 seem to Southern eyes very brilliant at the best, and 
 whether poor Bride Hepburn might be owned as a 
 princess at all was a doubtful matter, since, if her 
 father lived (and he had certainly been living in 1577 
 in Norway), both the Queen and the Scottish people 
 would be agreed in repudiating the marriage. Any 
 way, Susan saw every reason to fear for the happi- 
 ness and the religion alike of the child to whom she 
 had given a mother's love. Under her grave, self- 
 contained placid demeanour, perhaps Dame Susan was 
 the most dejected of those at Buxton. The captive 
 Queen had her hopes of freedom and her newly found 
 daughter, who was as yet only a pleasure, and not an 
 encumbrance to her, the Earl had been assured that 
 his wife's slanders had been forgotten. He was 
 secure of his sovereign's favour, and permitted to see 
 the term of his weary jailorship, and thus there was 
 an unusual liveliness and cheerfulness about the whole 
 sojourn at Buxton, where, indeed, there was always 
 more or less of a holiday time.
 
 XVI.] THE PEAK CAVERN. 203 
 
 To Cis herself, her nights were like a perpetual 
 fairy tale, and so indeed were all times when she was 
 alone with the initiated, who were indeed all those 
 original members of her mother's suite who had known 
 of her birth at Lochleven, people who had kept too 
 many perilous secrets not to be safely entrusted with 
 this one, and whose finished habits of caution, in a 
 moment, on the approach of a stranger, would change 
 their manner from the deferential courtesy due to their 
 princess, to the good-natured civility of court ladies to 
 little Cicely Talbot. 
 
 Dame Susan had been gratified at first by the young 
 girl's sincere assurances of unchanging affection and 
 allegiance, and, in truth, Cis had clung the most to her 
 with the confidence of a whole life's daughterhood, but 
 as the days went on, and every caress and token of 
 affection imaginable was lavished upon the maiden, 
 every splendid augury held out to her of the future, 
 and every story of the past detailed the charms of 
 Mary's court life in France, seen through the vista of 
 nearly twenty sadly contrasted years, it was in the 
 very nature of things that Cis should regard the time 
 spent perforce with Mistress Talbot much as a petted 
 child views its return to the strict nurse or governess 
 from the delights of the drawing-room. She liked to 
 dazzle the homely housewife with the wonderful tales 
 of French gaieties, or the splendid castles in the air she 
 had heard in the Queen's rooms, but she resented the 
 doubt and disapproval they sometimes excited ; she was 
 petulant and fractious at any exercise of authority 
 from her foster-mother, and once or twice went near 
 to betray herself by lapsing into a tone towards her 
 which would have brought down severe personal 
 chastisement on any real daughter even of seventeen.
 
 204 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 It was well that the Countess and her sharp-eyed 
 daughter Mary were out of sight, as the sight of such 
 " cockering of a malapert maiden " would have led to 
 interference that might have brought matters to ex- 
 tremity. Yet, with all the forbearance thus exercised, 
 Susan could not but feel that the girl's love was being 
 weaned from her ; and, after all, how could she com- 
 plain, since it was by the true mother ? If only she 
 could have hoped it was for the dear child's good, it 
 would not have been so hard ! But the trial was a 
 bitter one, and not even her husband guessed how 
 bitter it was. 
 
 The Queen meantime improved daily in health and 
 vigour in the splendid summer weather. The rheu- 
 matism had quitted her, and she daily rode and played 
 at Trowle Madame for hours after supper in the long 
 bright July evenings. Cis, whose shoulder was quite 
 well, played with great delight on the greensward, 
 where one evening she made acquaintance with a young 
 esquire and his sisters from the neighbourhood, who 
 had come with their father to pay their respects to my 
 Lord Earl, as the head of all Hallamshire. The Earl, 
 though it was not quite according to the recent stricter 
 rules, ventured to invite them to stay to sup with the 
 household, and afterwards they came out with the rest 
 upon the lawn. 
 
 Cis was walking between the young lad and his 
 sister, laughing and talking with much animation, for 
 she had not for some time enjoyed the pleasure of free 
 intercourse with any of her fellow-denizens in the 
 happy land of youth. 
 
 Dame Susan watched her with some uneasiness, and 
 presently saw her taking them where she herself was 
 privileged to go, but strangers were never permitted
 
 XVI.] THE PEAK CAVEEX. 205 
 
 to approach, on the Trowle Madame sward reserved 
 for the Queen, on which she was even now entering. 
 
 "Cicely!" she called, but the young lady either 
 did not or would not hear, and she was obliged to walk 
 hastily forward, meet the party, and with courteous 
 excuses turn them back from the forbidden ground. 
 They submitted at once, apologising, but Cis, with a 
 red spot on her cheek, cried, " The Queen would take 
 no offence." 
 
 " That is not the matter in point, Cicely," said 
 Dame Susan gravely. " Master and Mistress Eyre 
 understand that we are bound to obedience to the Earl." 
 
 Master Eyre, a well-bred young gentleman, made 
 reply that he well knew that no discourtesy was 
 intended, but Cis pouted and muttered, evidently to 
 the extreme amazement of Mistress Alice Eyre ; and 
 Dame Susan, to divert her attention, began to ask 
 about the length of their ride, and the way to their 
 home. 
 
 Cis's ill humour never lasted long, and she suddenly 
 broke in, " mother, Master Eyre saith there is a 
 marvellous cavern near his father's house, all full of 
 pendants from the roof like a minster, and great 
 sheeted tables and statues standing up, all grand and 
 ghostly on the floor, far better than in this Pool's Hole. 
 He says his father will have it lighted up if we will 
 ride over and see it." 
 
 " AVe are much beholden to Master Eyre," said 
 Susan, but Cis read refusal in her tone, and began to 
 urge her to consent. 
 
 " It must be as my husband wills," was the grave 
 answer, and at the same time, courteously, but very 
 decidedly, she bade the strangers farewell, and made 
 her daughter do the same, though Cis was inclined to
 
 206 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 resistance, and in a somewhat defiant tone added, " I 
 shall not forget your promise, sir. I long to see the 
 cave." 
 
 " Child, child," entreated Susan, as soon as they 
 were out of hearing, " be on thy guard. Thou wilt 
 betray thyself by such conduct towards me." 
 
 " But, mother, they did so long to see the Queen, 
 and there would have been no harm in it. They are 
 well affected, and the young gentleman is a friend of 
 poor Master Babington." 
 
 " Nay, Cis, that is further cause that I should not 
 let them pass onward. I marvel not at thee, my maid, 
 but thou and thy mother queen must bear in mind 
 that while thou passest for our daughter, and hast 
 trust placed in thee, thou must do nothing to forfeit it 
 
 or bring thy fa , Master Eichard I mean, into 
 
 trouble." 
 
 " I meant no harm," said Cis, rather crossly. 
 
 " Thou didst not, but harm may be done by such as 
 mean it the least." 
 
 " Only, mother, sweet mother," cried the girl, child- 
 like, set upon her pleasure, " I will be as good as can 
 be. I will transgress in nought if only thou wilt get 
 my father to take me to see Master Eyre's cavern." 
 
 She was altogether the home daughter again in her 
 eagerness, entreating and promising by turns with the 
 eager curiosity of a young girl bent on an expedition, 
 but Eichard was not to be prevailed on. He had 
 little or no acquaintance with the Eyre family, and to 
 let them go to the cost and trouble of lighting up the 
 cavern for the young lady's amusement would be like 
 the encouragement of a possible suit, which would 
 have been a most inconvenient matter. Eichard did 
 not believe the young gentleman had warrant from his
 
 XVI.] THE PEAK CAVERX. 207 
 
 father in giving this invitation, and if he had, that was 
 the more reason for declining it. The Eyres, then hold- 
 ing the royal castle of the Peak, were suspected of being 
 secretly Eoman Catholics, and though the Earl could 
 not avoid hospitably bidding them to supper, the less 
 any Talbot had to do with them the better, and for the 
 present Cis must be contented to be reckoned as one. 
 
 So she had to put up with her disappointment, and 
 she did not do so with as good a grace as she would 
 have shown a year ago. Xay, she carried it to Queen 
 Mary, who at night heard her gorgeous description of 
 the wonders of the cavern, which grew in her estima- 
 tion in proportion to the difficulty of seeing them, and 
 sympathised with her disappointment at the denial. 
 
 " Xay, thou shalt not be balked," said Mary, with 
 the old queenly habit of having her own way. 
 " Prisoner as I am, I will accomplish this. My 
 daughter shall have her wish." 
 
 So on the ensuing morning, when the Earl came to 
 pay his respects, Mary assailed him with, " There is a 
 marvellous cavern in these parts, my Lord, of which I 
 hear great wonders." 
 
 " Does your grace mean Pool's Hole ?" 
 
 " Xay, nay, my Lord. Have I not been conducted 
 through it by Dr. Jones, and there writ my name for 
 his delectation ? This is, I hear, as a palace compared 
 therewith." 
 
 " The Peak Cavern, Madam !" said Lord Shrewsbury, 
 with the distaste of middle age for underground expedi- 
 tions, " is four leagues hence, and a dark, damp, doleful 
 den, most noxious for your Grace's rheumatism." 
 
 " Have you ever seen it, my Lord ?" 
 
 " No, verily," returned his lordship with a shudder. 
 
 " Then you will be edified yourself, my Lord, if you
 
 208 UNKNOWN TO HISTOKY. [CHAP. 
 
 will do me the grace to escort me thither/' said Mary, 
 with the imperious suavity she well knew how to 
 adopt. 
 
 " Madam, madam," cried the unfortunate Earl, " do 
 but consult your physicians. They will tell you that all* 
 the benefits of the Buxton waters will be annulled by 
 an hour in yonder subterranean hole." 
 
 " I have heard of it from several of my suite," re- 
 plied Mary, " and they tell me that the work of nature 
 on the lime-droppings is so marvellous that I shall not 
 rest without a sight of it. Many have been instant 
 with me to go and behold the wondrous place." 
 
 This was not untrue, but she had never thought of 
 gratifying them in her many previous visits to Buxton. 
 The Earl found himself obliged either to utter a harsh 
 and unreasonable refusal, or to organise an expedition 
 which he personally disliked extremely, and moreover 
 distrusted, for he did not in the least believe that 
 Queen Mary would be so set upon gratifying her curi- 
 osity about stalactites without some ulterior motive. 
 He tried to set on Dr. Jones to persuade Messieurs 
 Gorion and Bourgoin, her medical attendants, that 
 the cave would be fatal to her rheumatism, but it so 
 happened that the Peak Cavern was Dr. Jones's 
 favourite lion, the very pride of his heart. Pool's Hole 
 was dear to him, but the Peak Cave was far more 
 precious, and the very idea of the Queen of Scots 
 honouring it with her presence, and leaving behind her 
 the flavour of her name, was so exhilarating to the 
 little man that if the place had been ten times more 
 damp he would have vouched for its salubrity. More- 
 over, he undertook that fumigations of fragrant woods 
 should remove all peril of noxious exhalations, so that 
 the Earl was obliged to give his orders that Mr.
 
 xvl] the peak cavern. 209 
 
 Eyre should be requested to light up the cave, and 
 heartily did he grumble and pour forth his suspicions 
 and annoyance to his cousin Eichard. 
 
 " And I," said the good sailor, " felt it hard not to 
 be able to tell him that all was for the freak of a silly 
 damsel." 
 
 Mistress Cicely laughed a little triumphantly. It 
 was something like being a Queen's daughter to have 
 been the cause of making my Lord himself bestir him- 
 self against his will. She had her own way, and 
 might well be good - humoured. " Come, dear sir 
 father," she said, coming up to him in a coaxing, 
 patronising way, which once would have been quite 
 alien to them both, " be not angered. You know no- 
 body means treason ! And, after all, 'tis not I but 
 you that are the cause of all the turmoil. If you 
 would but have ridden soberly out with your poor 
 little Cis, there would have been no coil, but my Lord 
 might have paced stately and slow up and down the 
 terrace-walk undisturbed." 
 
 " Ah, child, child ! " said Susan, vexed, though her 
 husband could not help smiling at the arch drollery of 
 the girl's tone and manner, " do not thou learn light 
 mockery of all that should be honoured." 
 
 " I am not bound to honour the Earl," said Cis, 
 proudly. 
 
 " Hush, hush ! " said Eichard. " I have allowed 
 thee unchecked too long, maiden. Wert thou ten 
 times what thou art, it would not give thee the right 
 to mock at the gray-haired, highly-trusted noble, the 
 head of the name thou dost bear." 
 
 " And the torment of her whom I am most bound 
 to love," broke from Cicely petulantly. 
 
 Eichard's response to this sally was to rise up, 
 VOL. i. p
 
 210 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAR 
 
 make the young lady the lowest possible reverence, 
 with extreme and displeased gravity, and then to quit 
 the room. It brought the girl to her bearings at once. 
 " Oh, mother, mother, how have I displeased him ?" 
 
 " I trow thou canst not help it, child," said Susan, 
 sadly ; " but it is hard that thou shouldst bring home 
 to us how thine heart and thine obedience are parted 
 from us." 
 
 The maiden was in a passion of tears at once, 
 vowing that she meant no such thing, that she loved 
 and obeyed them as much as ever, and that if only 
 her father would forgive her she would never wish to 
 go near the cavern. She would beg the Queen to give 
 up the plan at once, if only Sir Pdchard would be her 
 good father as before. 
 
 Susan looked at her sadly and tenderly, but smiled, 
 and said that what had been lightly begun could not 
 now be dropped, and that she trusted Cis would be 
 happy in the day's enjoyment, and remember to be- 
 have herself as a discreet maiden. " For truly," said 
 she, " so far from discretion being to be despised by 
 Queen's daughters, the higher the estate the greater the 
 need thereof." 
 
 This little breeze did not prevent Cicely from setting 
 off in high spirits, as she rode near the Queen, who 
 declared that she wanted to enjoy through the merry 
 maiden, and who was herself in a gay and joyous mood, 
 believing that the term of her captivity was in sight, 
 delighted with her daughter, exhilarated by the fresh 
 breezes and rapid motion, and so mirthful that she 
 could not help teasing and bantering the Earl a little, 
 though all in the way of good-humoured grace. 
 
 The ride was long, about eight miles ; but though the 
 Peak Castle was a royal one, the Earl preferred not to
 
 XVI.] THE TEAK CAVERN. 211 
 
 enter it, but, according to previous arrangement, caused 
 the company to dismount in the valley, or rather ravine, 
 which terminates in the cavern, where a repast was 
 spread on the grass. It was a wonderful place, cool and 
 refreshing, for the huge rocks on either side cast a deep 
 shadow, seldom pierced by the rays of the sun. Lofty, 
 solemn, and rich in dark reds and purples, rose the walls 
 of rock, here and there softened by tapestry of ivy or 
 projecting bushes of sycamore, mountain ash, or with 
 fruit already assuming its brilliant tints, and jack- 
 daws flying in and out of their holes above. Deep 
 beds of rich ferns clothed the lower slopes, and sheets 
 of that delicate flower, the enchanter's nightshade, 
 reared its white blossoms down to the bank of a little 
 clear stream that came flowing from out of the mighty 
 yawning arch of the cavern, while above the precipice 
 rose sheer the keep of Peak Castle. 
 
 The banquet was gracefully arranged to suit the 
 scene, and comprised, besides more solid viands, large 
 bowls of milk, with strawberries or cranberries floating 
 in them. Mr. Eyre, the keeper of the castle, and his 
 daughter did the honours, while his son superintended 
 the lighting and fumigation of the cavern, assisted, if 
 not directed by Dr. Jones, whose short black cloak and 
 gold-headed cane were to be seen almost everywhere 
 at once. 
 
 Presently clouds of smoke began to issue from the 
 vast archway that closed the ravine. " Beware, my 
 maidens," said the Queen, merrily, " we have roused 
 the dragon in his den, and we shall see him come forth 
 anon, curling his tail and belching flame." 
 
 " With a marvellous stomach for a dainty maiden 
 or two," added Gilbert Curll, falling into her humour. 
 
 " Hark ! Good lack ! " cried the Queen, with an
 
 212 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 affectation of terror, as a most extraordinary noise pro- 
 ceeded from the bowels of the cavern, making Cis start 
 and Marie de Courcelles give a genuine shriek. 
 
 " Your Majesty is pleased to be merry," said the 
 Earl, ponderously. " The sound is only the coughing 
 of the torchbearers from the damp whereof I warned 
 your Majesty." 
 
 " By my faith," said Mary, " I believe my Lord 
 Earl himself fears the monster of the cavern, to whom 
 he gives the name of Damp. Dread nothing, my 
 Lord ; the valorous knight Sir Jones is even now in 
 conflict with the foul worm, as those cries assure me, 
 being in fact caused by his fumigations." 
 
 The jest was duly received, and in the midst of the 
 laughter, young Eyre came forward, bowing low, and 
 holding his jewelled hat in his hand, while his eyes 
 betrayed that he had recently been sneezing violently. 
 
 " So please your Majesty," he said, " the odour hath 
 rolled away, and all is ready if you will vouchsafe to 
 accept my poor guidance." 
 
 " How say you, my Lord ?" said Mary. u Will you 
 dare the lair of the conquered foe, or fear you to be 
 pinched with aches and pains by his lurking hob- 
 goblins ? If so, we dispense with your attendance." 
 
 " Your Majesty knows that where she goes thither 
 I am bound to attend her," said the rueful Earl. 
 
 " Even into the abyss ! " said Mary. " Valiantly 
 spoken, for have not Ariosto and his fellows sung of 
 captive princesses for whom every cave held an enchanter 
 who could spirit them away into vapour thin as air, and 
 leave their guardians questing in vain for them ? " 
 
 " Your Majesty jests with edged tools," sighed the 
 Earl. 
 
 Old Mr. Evre was too feeble to act as exhibitor of
 
 XVI.] THE PEAK CAVERN. 213 
 
 the cave, and his son was deputed to lead the Queen 
 forward. This was, of course, Lord Shrewsbury's privi- 
 lege, but he was in truth beholden to her fingers for 
 aid, as she walked eagerly forward, now and then 
 accepting a little help from John Eyre, but in general 
 sure-footed and exploring eagerly by the light of the 
 numerous torches held by yeomen in the Eyre livery, 
 one of whom was stationed wherever there was a 
 dangerous pass or a freak of nature worth studying. 
 
 The magnificent vaulted roof grew lower, and pre- 
 sently it became necessary to descend a staircase, which 
 led to a deep hollow chamber, shaped like a bell, and 
 echoing like one. A pool of intensely black water 
 filled it, reflecting the lights on its surface, that only 
 enhanced its darkness, while there moved on a mys- 
 terious flat-bottomed boat, breaking them into shim- 
 mering sparks, and John Eyre intimated that the 
 visitors must lie down flat in it to be ferried one by 
 one over a space of about fourteen yards. 
 
 " Your Majesty will surely not attempt it," said the 
 Earl, with a shudder. 
 
 " Wherefore not ? It is but a foretaste of Charon's 
 boat ! " said Mary, who was one of those people whose 
 spirit of enterprise rises with the occasion, and she 
 murmured to Mary Seaton the line of Dante — 
 
 " Quando noi fermerem li nostri passi 
 Su la triste riviera a' Acheronte." 
 
 " "Will your Majesty enter ? " asked John Eyre. 
 " Dr. Jones and some gentlemen wait on the other side 
 to receive you." 
 
 " Some gentlemen ?" repeated Mary. " You are sure 
 they are not Minos and Ehadamanthus, sir ? My 
 obolus is ready ; shall I put it in my mouth ? " 
 
 " Nay, madam, pardon me," said the Earl, spurred
 
 214 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 by a miserable sense of bis duties ; " since you will 
 thus venture, far be it from me to let you pass over 
 until I have reached the other side to see that it is fit 
 for your Majesty ! " 
 
 "Even as you will, most devoted cavalier," said 
 Mary, drawing back ; " we will be content to play the 
 part of the pale ghosts of the unburied dead a little 
 longer. See, Mary, the boat sinks down with him and 
 his mortal flesh ! We shall have Charon complaining 
 of him anon." 
 
 " Your Highness gars my flesh grue," was the 
 answer of her faithful Mary. 
 
 " Ah, ma mie ! we have not left all hope behind. 
 We can afford to smile at the doleful knight, ferried 
 o'er on his back, in duteous and loyal submission to 
 his task mistress. Child, Cicely, where art thou ? 
 Art afraid to dare the black river ? " 
 
 " No, madam, not with you on the other side, and 
 my father to follow me." 
 
 " Well said. Let the maiden follow next after me. 
 Or mayhap Master Eyre should come next, then the 
 young lady. For you, my ladies, and you, good sirs, 
 you are free to follow or not, as the fancy strikes you. 
 So — here is Charon once more — must I lie down ? " 
 
 "Ay, madam," said Eyre, "if you would not strike 
 your head against yonder projecting rock." 
 
 Mary lay down, her cloak drawn about her, and 
 saying, " Now then, for Acheron. Ah ! would that it 
 were Lethe ! " 
 
 "Her Grace saith well," muttered faithful Jean 
 Kennedy, unversed in classic lore, " would that we 
 were once more at bonnie Leith. Soft there now, 'tis 
 you that follow her next, my fail' mistress." 
 
 Cicely, not without trepidation, obeyed, laid herself
 
 XVLJ THE PEAK CAYEILW 215 
 
 Hat, and was soon midway, feeling the passage so grim 
 and awful, that she could think of nothing but the 
 dark passages of the grave, and was shuddering all 
 over, when she was helped out on the other side by the 
 Queen's own hand. 
 
 Some of those in the rear did not seem to be simi- 
 larly affected, or else braved their feelings of awe by 
 shouts and songs, which echoed fearfully through the 
 subterranean vaults. Indeed Diccon, following the 
 example of one or two young pages and grooms of 
 the Earl's, began to get so daring and wild in the 
 strange scene, that his father became anxious, and 
 tarried for him on the other side, in the dread of his 
 wandering away and getting lost, or falling into some 
 of the fearful dark rivers that could be heard — not seen 
 — rushing along. By this means, Master Pdchard was 
 entirely separated from Cicely, to whom, before crossing 
 the water, he had been watchfully attending, but he 
 knew her to be with the Queen and her ladies, and con- 
 sidered her natural timidity the best safeguard against 
 the chief peril of the cave, namely, wandering away. 
 
 Cicely did, however, miss his care, for the Queen 
 could not but be engrossed by her various cicerones 
 and attendants, and it was no one's especial business 
 to look after the young girl over the rough descent to 
 the dripping well called Eoger Eain's House, and the 
 grand cathedral-like gallery, with splendid pillars of 
 stalagmite, and pendants above. By the time the 
 steps beyond were reached, a toilsome descent, the 
 Queen had had enough of the expedition, and declined 
 to go any farther, but she good-naturedly yielded to 
 the wish of Master John Eyre and Dr. Jones, that 
 she would inscribe her name on the farthest column 
 that she had reached.
 
 216 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAR 
 
 There was a little confusion while this was being 
 done, as some of the more enterprising wished to 
 penetrate as far as possible into the recesses of the 
 cave, and these were allowed to pass forward — Diccon 
 and his father among them. In the passing and re- 
 passing, Cicely entirely lost sight of all who had any 
 special care of her, and went stumbling on alone, 
 weary, frightened, and repenting of the wilfulness with 
 which she had urged on the expedition. Each of 
 the other ladies had some cavalier to help her, but 
 none had fallen to Cicely's lot, and though, to an 
 active girl, there was no real danger where the torch- 
 bearers lined the way, still there was so much diffi- 
 culty that she was a laggard in reaching the likeness 
 of Acheron, and could see no father near as she laid 
 herself down in Charon's dismal boat, dimly rejoicing 
 that this time it was to return to the realms of day, 
 and yet feeling as if she should never reach them. A 
 hand was given to assist her from the boat by one of 
 the torchbearers, a voice strangely familiar was in her 
 ears, saying, " Mistress Cicely ! " and she knew the 
 eager eyes, and exclaimed under her breath, " Antony, 
 you here ? In hiding ? What have you done ? " 
 
 " Nothing," he answered, smiling, and holding her 
 hand, as he helped her forward. " I only put on this 
 garb that I might gaze once more on the most divine 
 and persecuted of queens, and with some hope likewise 
 that I might win a word with her who deigned once 
 to be my playmate. Lady, I know the truth respecting 
 you." 
 
 " Do you in very deed ?" demanded Cicely, consider- 
 ably startled. 
 
 " I know your true name, and that you are none of 
 the mastiff race," said Antony.
 
 XVI.] THE PEAK CAVERN. 217 
 
 " Did — did Tibbott tell you, sir ?" asked Cicely. 
 
 " You are one of us," said Antony ; " bound by 
 natural allegiance in the land of your birth to this 
 lady." 
 
 " Even so," said Cis, here becoming secure of what 
 she had before doubted, that Babington only knew half 
 the truth he referred to. 
 
 " And you see and speak with her privily," he 
 added. 
 
 " As Bess Pierrepoint did," said she. 
 
 These words passed during the ascent, and were 
 much interrupted by the difficulties of the way, in 
 which Antony rendered such aid that she was each 
 moment more impelled to trust to him, and relieved to 
 find herself in such familiar hands. On reaching the 
 summit the light of day could be seen glimmering in 
 the extreme distance, and the maiden's heart bounded 
 at the sight of it ; but she found herself led some- 
 what aside, where in a sort of side aisle of the great 
 bell chamber were standing together four more of the 
 torch-bearers. 
 
 One of them, a slight man, made a step forward 
 and said, " The Queen hath dropped her kerchief. 
 Mayhap the young gentlewoman will restore it?" 
 
 "She will do more than that!" said Antony, draw- 
 ing her into the midst of them. " Dost not know her, 
 Langston ? She is her sacred Majesty's own born, true, 
 and faithful subject, the Lady " 
 
 " Hush, my friend ; thou art ever over outspoken 
 with thy names," returned the other, evidently annoyed 
 at Babington's imprudence. 
 
 "I tell thee, she is one of us," replied Antony 
 impatiently. " How is the Queen to know of her 
 friends if we name them not to her ?"
 
 218 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 "Are these her friends?" asked Cicely, looking 
 round on the five figures in the leathern coats and 
 yeomen's heavy buskins and shoes, and especially at 
 the narrow face and keen pale eyes of Langston. 
 
 " Ay, verily," said one, whom Cicely could see even 
 under his disguise to be a slender, graceful youth. " By 
 John Eyre's favour have we come together here to 
 gaze on the true and lawful mistress of our hearts, the 
 champion of our faith, in her martyrdom." Then 
 taking the kerchief from Langston's hand, Babington 
 kissed it reverently, and tore it into five pieces, which 
 he divided among himself and his fellows, saying, 
 " This fair mistress shall bear witness to her sacred 
 Majesty that we — Antony Babington, Chidiock Tich- 
 borne, Cuthbert Langston, John Charnock, John Savage 
 — regard her as the sole and lawful Queen of England 
 and Scotland, and that as we have gone for her sake 
 into the likeness of the valley of the shadow of death, 
 so will we meet death itself and stain this linen with 
 our best heart's blood rather than not bring her again 
 to freedom and the throne !" 
 
 Then with the most solemn oath each enthusiastic- 
 ally kissed the white token, and put it in his breast, 
 but Langston looked with some alarm at the girl, and 
 said to Babington, "Doth this young lady understand 
 that you have put our lives into her hands ?" 
 
 " She knows ! she knows ! I answer for her with 
 my life," said Antony. 
 
 " Let her then swear to utter no word of what she 
 has seen save to the Queen," said Langston, and Cicely 
 detected a glitter in that pale eye, and with a horrified 
 leap of thought, recollected how easy it would be to drag 
 her away into one of those black pools, beyond all ken. 
 
 " Oh save me, Antocy !" she cried, clinging to his arm.
 
 xvl] the peak cayebn. 219 
 
 " Xo one shall touch you. I will guard you with 
 my life !" exclaimed the impulsive young man, feeling 
 for the sword that was not there. 
 
 " Who spoke of hurting the foolish wench ?" growled 
 Savage ; but Tichborne said, " Xo one would hurt 
 you, madam ; but it is due to us all that you should 
 give us your word of honour not to disclose what has 
 passed, save to our only true mistress." 
 
 " Oh yes ! yes !" cried Cicely hastily, scarcely know- 
 ing what passed her lips, and only anxious to escape 
 from that gleaming eye of Langston, which had twice 
 before filled her with a nameless sense of the necessity 
 of terrified obedience. " Oh ! let me go. I hear my 
 father's voice." 
 
 She sprang forward with a cry between joy and 
 terror, and darted up to Richard Talbot, while Savage, 
 the man who looked most entirely unlike a disguised 
 gentleman, stepped forward, and in a rough, north 
 country dialect, averred that the young gentlewoman 
 had lost her way. 
 
 " Poor maid," said kind Eichard, gathering the two 
 trembling little hands into one of his own broad ones. 
 " How was it ? Thanks, good fellow," and he dropped 
 a broad piece into Savage's palm ; " thou hast done 
 good service. What, Cis, child, art quaking?" 
 
 " Hast seen any hobgoblins, Cis ? " said Diccon, at 
 her other side. " I'm sure I heard them laugh." 
 
 " Whist, Dick," said his father, putting a strong arm 
 round the girl's waist. " See, my wench, yonder is the 
 goodly light of day. We shall soon be there." 
 
 With all his fatherly kindness, he helped the agi- 
 tated girl up the remaining ascent, as the lovely piece 
 of blue sky between the retreating rocks grew wider, 
 and the archway higher above them. Cis felt that
 
 220 UNKNOWN TO HISTOKY. [CHAP. 
 
 infinite repose and reliance that none else could give, 
 yet the repose was disturbed by the pang of recol- 
 lection that the secret laid on her was their first 
 severance. It was unjust to his kindness ; strange, 
 doubtful, nay grisly, to her foreboding mind, and she 
 shivered alike from that and the chill of the damp 
 cavern, and then he drew her cloak more closely about 
 her, and halted to ask for the flask of wine which one 
 of the adventurous spirits had brought, that Queen 
 Elizabeth's health might be drunk by her true subjects 
 in the bowels of the earth. The wine was, of course, 
 exhausted ; but Dr. Jones bustled forward with some 
 cordial waters which he had provided in case of any- 
 one being struck with the chill of the cave, and Cicely 
 was made to swallow some. 
 
 By this time she had been missed, and the little 
 party were met by some servants sent by the Earl at 
 the instance of the much-alarmed Queen to inquire for 
 her. A little farther on came Mistress Talbot, in much 
 anxiety and distress, though as Diccon ran forward to 
 meet her, and she saw Cicely on her husband's arm, 
 she resumed her calm and staid demeanour, and when 
 assured that the maiden had suffered no damage, she 
 made no special demonstrations of joy or affection. 
 Indeed, such would have been deemed unbecoming in 
 the presence of strangers, and disrespectful to the 
 Queen and the Earl, who were not far off. 
 
 Mary, on the other hand, started up, held out her 
 arms, received the truant with such vehement kisses, 
 as might almost have betrayed their real relationship, 
 and then reproached her, with all sorts of endearing 
 terms, for having so terrified them all; nor would she let 
 the girl go from her side, and kept her hand in her own. 
 
 Diccon meanwhile had succeeded in securing his
 
 XVI.] TIIE PEAK CAVEBN. 221 
 
 father's attention, winch had been wholly given to 
 Cicely till she was placed in the women's hands. 
 " Father," he said, " I wis that one of the knaves with 
 the torches who found our Cis was the woman with the 
 beads and bracelets, ay, and Tibbott, too." 
 
 " Belike, belike, my son," said Richard. " There 
 are folk who can take as many forms as a barnacle 
 goose. Keep thou a sharp eye as the fellows pass 
 out, and pull me by the cloak if thou seest him." 
 
 Of course he was not seen, and Richard, who was 
 growing more and more cautious about bringing vague 
 or half-proved suspicions before his Lord, decided to 
 be silent and to watch, though he sighed to his wife 
 that the poor child would soon be in the web. 
 
 Cis had not failed to recognise that same identity, 
 and to feel a half-realised conviction that the Queen 
 had not chosen to confide to her that the two female 
 disguises both belonged to Langston. Yet the con- 
 trast between Mary's endearments and the restrained 
 manner of Susan so impelled her towards the veritable 
 mother, that the compunction as to the concealment 
 she had at first experienced passed away, and her heart 
 felt that its obligations were towards her veritable and 
 most loving parent. She told the Queen the whole 
 story at night, to Mary's great delight. She said she 
 was sure her little one had something on her mind, she 
 had so little to say of her adventure, and the next day 
 a little privy council was contrived, in which Cicely was 
 summoned again to tell her tale. The ladies declared 
 they had always hoped much from their darling page, in 
 whom they had kept up the true faith, but Sir Andrew 
 Melville shook his head and said : " I'd misdoot ony 
 plot where the little finger of him was. "What garred 
 the silly loon call in the young leddy ere he kenned 
 whether she wad keep counsel ?"
 
 222 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 THE EBBING WELL. 
 
 Cicely's thirst for adventures had received a check, 
 but the Queen, being particularly well and in good 
 spirits, and trusting that this would be her last visit 
 to Buxton, was inclined to enterprise, and there were 
 long rides and hawking expeditions on the moors. 
 
 The last of these, ere leaving Buxton, brought the 
 party to the hamlet of Barton Clough, where a loose 
 horseshoe of the Earl's caused a halt at a little wayside 
 smithy. Mary, always friendly and free-spoken, asked 
 for a draught of water, and entered into conversation 
 with the smith's rosy-cheeked wife who brought it to 
 her, and said it was sure to be good and pure for the 
 stream came from the Ebbing and Flowing Well, and 
 she pointed up a steep path. Then, on a further 
 question, she proceeded, "Has her ladyship never 
 heard of the Ebbing Well that shows whether true 
 love is soothfast ? " 
 
 " How so ? " asked the Queen. " How precious 
 such a test might be. It would save many a maiden 
 a broken heart, only that the poor fools would ne'er 
 trust it." 
 
 " I have heard of it," said the Earl, " and Dr. Jones 
 would demonstrate to your Grace that it is but a
 
 XVII.] THE EBBING WELL. 223 
 
 superstition of the vulgar regarding a natural pheno- 
 menon." 
 
 " Yea, my Lord," said the smith, looking up from 
 the horse's foot ; " 'tis the trade of yonder philosophers 
 to gainsay whatever honest folk believed before them. 
 They'll deny next that hens lay eggs, or blight rots 
 wheat. My good wife speaks but plain truth, and we 
 have seen it o'er and o'er again." 
 
 "What have you seen, good man?" asked Mary 
 eagerly, and ready answer was made by the couple, 
 who had acquired some cultivation of speech and 
 manners by their wayside occupation, and likewise as 
 cicerones to the spring. 
 
 " Seen, quoth the lady ?" said the smith. " Why, 
 he that is a true man and hath a true maid can quaff 
 a draught as deep as his gullet can hold — or she that 
 is true and hath a true love — but let one who hath a 
 flaw in the metal, on the one side or t'other, stoop to 
 drink, and the water shrinks away so as there's not 
 the moistening of a lip." 
 
 " Ay : the ladies may laugh," added his wife, " but 
 'tis soothfast for all that." 
 
 "Hast proved it, good dame?" asked the Queen 
 archly, for the pair were still young and well-looking 
 enough to be jested with. 
 
 "Ay! have we not, madam?" said the dame. 
 " Was not my man yonder, Bob, the tinker's son, whom 
 my father and brethren, the smiths down yonder at 
 Buxton, thought but scorn of, but we'd taken a sup 
 together at the Ebbing Well, and it played neither of us 
 false, so we held out against 'em all, and when they saw 
 there was no help for it, they gave Eob the second 
 best anvil and bellows for my portion, and here we 
 be."
 
 224 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP 
 
 " Living witnesses to the Well/' said the Queen 
 merrily. " How say you, my Lord ? I would fain see 
 this marvel. Master Curll, will you try the venture V' 
 
 "I fear it not, madam," said the secretary, looking 
 at the blushing Barbara. 
 
 Objections did not fail to arise from the Earl as to 
 the difficulties of the path and the lateness of the hour, 
 but Eob Smith, perhaps wilfully, discovered another 
 of my Lord's horseshoes to be in a perilous state, 
 and his good wife, Dame Emmott, offered to conduct 
 the ladies by so good a path that they might think 
 themselves on the Queen's Walk at Buxton itself. 
 
 Lord Shrewsbury, finding himself a prisoner, was 
 obliged to yield compliance, and leaving Sir Andrew 
 Melville, with the grooms and falconers, in charge of 
 the horses, the Queen, the Earl, Cicely, Mary Seaton, 
 Barbara Mowbray, the two secretaries, and Bichard 
 .Talbot and young Diccon, started on the walk, to- 
 gether with Dr. Bourgoin, her physician, who was 
 eager to investigate the curiosity, and make it a sub- 
 ject of debate with Dr. Jones. 
 
 The path was a beautiful one, through rocks and 
 brushwood, mountain ash bushes showing their coral 
 berries amid their feathery leaves, golden and white 
 stars of stonecrop studding every coign of vantage, 
 and in more level spots the waxy bell-heather begin- 
 ning to come into blossom. Still it was rather over 
 praise to call it as smooth as the carefully-levelled 
 and much-trodden Queen's path at Buxton, considering 
 that it ascended steeply all the way, and made the 
 solemn, much-enduring Earl pant for breath ; but the 
 Queen, her rheumatics for the time entirely in abey- 
 ance, bounded on with the mountain step learned in 
 early childhood, and closely followed the brisk Em-
 
 XVII.] THE EBBING WELL. 225 
 
 mott The last ascent was a steep pull, taking away 
 the disposition to speak, and at its summit Mary stood 
 still holding out one hand, with a ringer of the other 
 on her lips as a sign of silence to the rest of the 
 suite and to Emmott, who stood flushed and angered ; 
 for what she esteemed her lawful province seemed to 
 have been invaded from the other side of the country. 
 
 They were on the side of the descent from the 
 moorlands connected with the Peak, on a small 
 esplanade in the midst of which lay a deep clear 
 pool, with nine small springs or fountains discharging 
 themselves, under fern and wild rose or honeysuckle, 
 into its basin. Steps had been cut in the rock lead- 
 ing to the verge of the pool, and on the lowest of 
 these, with his back to the new-comers, was kneeling 
 a young man, his brown head bare, his short cloak laid 
 aside, so that his well-knit form could be seen ; the 
 sword and spurs that clanked against the rock, as well 
 as the whole fashion and texture of his riding-dress, 
 showing him to be a gentleman. 
 
 " We shall see the venture made," whispered Mary 
 to her daughter, who, in virtue of youth and lightness 
 of foot, had kept close behind her. Grasping the girl's 
 arm and smiling, she heard the young man's voice cry 
 aloud to the echoes of the rock, " Cis !" then stoop 
 forward and plunge face and head into the clear trans- 
 lucent water. 
 
 11 Good luck to a true lover !" smiled the Queen. 
 " "What ! starting, silly maid ? Cisses are plenty in these 
 parts as rowan berries." 
 
 " Kay, but " gasped Cicely, for at that moment 
 
 the young man, rising from his knees, his face still 
 shining with the water, looked up at his unsuspected 
 spectators. An expression of astonishment and ecstasy 
 
 VOL. L Q
 
 226 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 lighted up his honest sunburnt countenance as Master 
 Eichard, who had just succeeded in dragging the portly- 
 Earl up the steep path, met his gaze. He threw up 
 his arms, made apparently but one bound, and was 
 kneeling at the captain's feet, embracing his knees. 
 
 " My son ! Humfrey ! Thyself ! " cried Eichard. 
 " See ! see what presence we are in." 
 
 " Your blessing, father, first," cried Humfrey, " ere 
 I can see aught else." 
 
 And as Eichard quickly and thankfully laid his 
 hand on the brow, so much fairer than the face, and 
 then held his son for one moment in a close embrace, 
 with an exchange of the kiss that was not then only 
 a foreign fashion, Queen and Earl said to one another 
 with a sigh, that happy was the household where the 
 son had no eyes for any save his father. 
 
 Mary, however, must have found it hard to con- 
 tinue her smiles when, after due but hurried obeisance 
 to her and to his feudal chief, Humfrey turned to the 
 little figure beside her, all smiling with startled shyness, 
 and in one moment seemed to swallow it up in a huge 
 overpowering embrace, fraternal in the eyes of almost 
 all the spectators, but not by any means so to those 
 of Mary, especially after the name she had heard. 
 Diccon's greeting was the next, and was not quite so 
 visibly rapturous on the part of the elder brother, who 
 explained that he had arrived at Sheffield yesterday, 
 and finding no one to welcome him but little Edward, 
 had set forth for Buxton almost with daylight, and 
 having found himself obliged to rest his horse, he had 
 
 turned aside to . And here he recollected just in 
 
 time that Cis was in every one's eyes save his father's, 
 his own sister, and lamely concluded "to take a 
 draught of water," blushing under his brown skin as
 
 XVII.] THE EBBING WELL. 227 
 
 he spoke. Poor fellow ! the Queen, even while she 
 wished him in the farthest West Indian isle, could not 
 help understanding that strange doubt and dread that 
 come over the mind at the last moment before a 
 longed-for meeting, and which had made even the bold 
 young sailor glad to rally his hopes by this divination. 
 Fortunately she thought only herself and one or two 
 of the foremost had heard the name he gave, as was 
 proved by the Earl's good-humoured laugh, as he said, 
 
 " A draught, quotha ? We understand that, young 
 sir. And who may this your true love be ?" 
 
 " That I hope soon to make known to your Lord- 
 ship," returned Humfrey, with a readiness which he 
 certainly did not possess before his voyage. 
 
 The ceremony was still to be fulfilled, and the 
 smith's wife called them to order by saying, "Good 
 luck to the young gentleman. He is a stranger here, 
 or he would have known he should have come up by 
 our path ! Will you try the well, your Grace ? " 
 
 " Nay, nay, good woman, my time for such toys is 
 over !" said the Queen smiling, " but moved by such 
 an example, here are others to make the venture, 
 Master Curll is burning for it/ 1 see." 
 
 " I fear no such trial, an't please your Grace," said 
 Curll, bowing, with a bright defiance of the water, and 
 exchanging a confident smile with the blushing Mistress 
 Barbara — then kneeling by the well, and uttering her 
 name aloud ere stooping to drink. He too succeeded 
 in obtaining a full draught, and came up triumphantly. 
 
 "The water is a flatterer!" said the Earl. "It 
 favours all." 
 
 The French secretary, Monsieur Nau, here came for- 
 ward and took his place on the steps. No one heard, 
 but every one knew the word he spoke was " Bessie," for
 
 228 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP, 
 
 Elizabeth Pierrepoint had long been the object of his 
 affections. No doubt he hoped that he should obtain 
 some encouragement from the water, even while he 
 gave a little laugh of affected incredulity as though 
 only complying with a form to amuse the Queen. 
 Down he went on his knees, bending over the pool, 
 when behold he could not reach it ! The streams that 
 fed it were no longer issuing from the rock, the water 
 was subsiding rapidly. The farther he stooped, the 
 more it retreated, till he had almost fallen over, and 
 the guide screamed out a note of warning, " Have a 
 care, sir ! If the water flees you, flee it will, and ye'll 
 not mend matters by drowning yourself." 
 
 How he was to be drowned by water that fled from 
 him was not clear, but with a muttered malediction he 
 arose and glanced round as if he thought the mortifi- 
 cation a trick on the part of the higher powers, since 
 the Earl did not think him a match for the Countess's 
 grandchild, and the Queen had made it known to him 
 that she considered Bess Pierrepoint to have too much 
 of her grandmother's conditions to be likely to be a 
 good wife. There was a laugh too, scarce controlled 
 by some of the less well-mannered of the suite, especi- 
 ally as the Earl, wishing to punish his presumption, 
 loudly set the example. 
 
 There was a pause, as the discomfited secretary 
 came back, and the guide exclaimed, " Come, my masters, 
 be not daunted ! Will none of you come on ? Hath none 
 of you faith in your love ? Oh, fie !" 
 
 " We are married men, good women," said Eichard, 
 hoping to put an end to the scene, "and thus can 
 laugh at your well." 
 
 " But will not these pretty ladies try it ? It speaks 
 as sooth to lass as to lad."
 
 XVII. ] THE EBBING WELL. 229 
 
 " I am ready/' said Barbara Mowbray, as Curll 
 gave her his hand to bound lightly down the steps. 
 And to the general amazement, no sooner had " Gilbert " 
 echoed from her lips than the fountains again burst 
 forth, the water rose, and she had no difficulty in 
 reaching it, while no one could help bursting forth in 
 applause. Her Gilbert fervently kissed the hand she 
 gave him to aid her steps up the slope, and Dame 
 Emmott, in triumphant congratulation, scanned them 
 over and exclaimed, " Ay, trust the well for knowing 
 true sweetheart and true maid. Come you next, fair 
 mistress ? " Poor Mary Seaton shook her head, with 
 a look that the kindly woman understood, and she 
 turned towards Cicely, who had a girl's unthinking 
 impulse of curiosity, and had already put her hand 
 into Humfrey's, when his father exclaimed, " Nay, nay, 
 the maid is yet too young !" and the Queen added, 
 " Come back, thou silly little one, these tests be not 
 for babes like thee." 
 
 She was forced to be obedient, but she pouted a 
 little as she was absolutely held fast by Eichard 
 Talbot's strong hand. Humfrey was disappointed too ; 
 but all was bright with him just then, and as the party 
 turned to make the descent, he said to her, " It matters 
 not, little Cis ! I'm sure of thee with the water or 
 without, and after all, thou couldst but have whispered 
 my name, till my father lets us speak all out !" 
 
 They were too much hemmed in by other people 
 for a private word, and a little mischievous banter was 
 going on with Sir Andrew Melville, who was supposed 
 to have a grave elderly courtship with Mistress Ken- 
 nedy. Humfrey was left in the absolute bliss of 
 ignorance, while the old habit and instinct of joy and 
 gladness in his presence reasserted itself in Cis, so
 
 230 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 that, as he handed her down the rocks, she answered 
 in the old tone all his inquiries about his mother, 
 and all else that concerned them at home, Diccon 
 meantime risking his limbs by scrambling outside 
 the path, to keep abreast of his brother, and to put in 
 his word whenever he could. 
 
 On reaching the smithy, Humfrey had to go round 
 another way to fetch his horse, and could hardly hope 
 to come up with the rest before they reached Buxton. 
 His brother was spared to go with him, but his father 
 was too important a part of the escort to be spared 
 So Cicely rode near the Queen, and heard no more 
 except the Earl's version of Dr. Jones's explanation of 
 the intermitting spring. They reached home only just 
 in time to prepare for supper, and the two youths 
 appeared almost simultaneously, so that Mistress Tal- 
 bot, sitting at her needle on the broad terrace in front 
 of the Earl's lodge, beheld to her amazement and 
 delight the figure that, grown and altered as it was, 
 she recognised in an instant. In another second 
 Humfrey had sprung from his horse, rushed up the 
 steps, he knew not how, and the Queen, with tears 
 trembling in her eyes was saying, " Ah, Melville ! see 
 how sons meet their mothers !" 
 
 The great clock was striking seven, a preposterously 
 late hour for supper, and etiquette was stronger than 
 sentiment or perplexity. Every one hastened to as- 
 sume an evening toilette, for a riding-dress would have 
 been an insult to the Earl, and the bell soon clanged 
 to call them down to their places in the hall. Even 
 Humfrey had brought in his cloak-bag wherewithal 
 to make himself presentable, and soon appeared, a well- 
 knit and active figure, in a plain dark blue jerkin, with 
 white slashes, and long hose knitted by his mother's
 
 XVII.] THE EBBING WELL. 231 
 
 dainty fingers, and well-preserved shoes with blue 
 rosettes, and a flat blue velvet cap, with an exquisite 
 black and sapphire feather in it fastened by a curious 
 brooch. His hair was so short that its naturally strong 
 curl could hardly be seen, his ruddy sunburnt face 
 could hardly be called handsome, but it was full of 
 frankness and intelligence, and beaming with honest 
 joy, and close to him moved little Diccon, hardly able 
 to repress his ecstasy within company bounds, and let- 
 ting it find vent in odd little gestures, wriggling with 
 his body, playing tunes on his knee, or making dancing- 
 steps with his feet. 
 
 Lord Shrewsbury welcomed his young kinsman as 
 one who had grown from a mere boy into a sturdy and 
 effective supporter. He made the new-comer sit near 
 him, and asked many questions, so that Humfrey was 
 the chief speaker all supper time, with here and there 
 a note from his father, the only person who had made 
 the same voyage. All heard with eager interest of the 
 voyage, the weeds in the Gulf Stream, the strange 
 birds and fishes, of "Walter Ealeigh's Virginian colony 
 and its ill success, of the half-starved men whom Sir 
 Eichard Grenville had found only too ready to leave 
 Eoanoake, of dark-skinned Indians, of chases of Spanish 
 ships, of the Peak of Teneriffe rising white from the 
 waves, of phosphorescent seas, of storms, and of shark- 
 catching. 
 
 Supper over, the audience again gathered round the 
 young traveller, a perfect fountain of various and won- 
 derful information to those who had for the most part 
 never seen a book of travels. He narrated simply and 
 well, without his boyish shy embarrassment and awk- 
 wardness, and likewise, as his father alone could judge, 
 without boasting, though, if to no one else, to Diccon
 
 232 UNKNOWN TO HISTOKY. [CHAP. 
 
 and Cis, listening with wide open eyes, he seemed a 
 hero of heroes. In the midst of his narration a message 
 came that the Queen of Scots requested the presence of 
 Mistress Cicely. Humfrey stared in discomfiture, and 
 asked when she would return. 
 
 "Not to-night," faltered the girl, and the mother 
 added, for the benefit of the bystanders, " For lack of 
 other ladies of the household, much service hath of late 
 fallen to Cicely and myself, and she shares the Queen's 
 chamber." 
 
 Humfrey had to submit to exchange good-nights 
 with Cicely, and she made her way less willingly than 
 usual to the apartments of the Queen, who was being 
 made ready for her bed. " Here comes our truant," 
 she exclaimed as the maiden entered. " I sent to rescue 
 thee from the western seafarer who had clawed thee 
 in his tarry clutch. Thou didst act the sister's part 
 passing well. I hear my Lord and all his meind have 
 been sitting, open-mouthed, hearkening to his tales of 
 savages and cannibals." 
 
 " madam, he told us of such lovely isles," said 
 Cis. " The sea, he said, is blue, bluer than we can 
 conceive, with white waves of dazzling surf, breaking 
 on islands fringed with white shells and coral, and 
 with palms, their tops like the biggest ferns in the 
 brake, and laden with red golden fruit as big as 
 goose eggs. And the birds ! madam, my mother, 
 the birds ! They are small, small as our butterflies 
 and beetles, and they hang hovering and quivering 
 over a flower so that Humfrey thought they were 
 moths, for he saw nothing but a whizzing and a whirr- 
 ing till he smote the pretty thing dead, and then he 
 said that I should have wept for pity, for it was a 
 little bird with a long bill, and a breast that shines
 
 XVII.] THE EBBING WELL. 233 
 
 red in one light, purple in another, and flame-coloured 
 in a third. He has brought home the little skin and 
 feathers of it for me." 
 
 " Thou hast supped full of travellers' tales, my 
 simple child." 
 
 " Yea, madam, but my Lord listened, and made 
 Humfrey sit beside him, and made much of him — my 
 Lord himself ! I would fain bring him to you, madam. 
 It is so wondrous to hear him tell of the Eed Men 
 with crowns of feathers and belts of beads. Such 
 gentle savages they be, and their chiefs as courteous 
 and stately as any of our princes, and yet those cruel 
 Spaniards make them slaves and force them to dig in 
 mines, so that they die and perish under their hands." 
 
 " And better so than that they should not come to 
 the knowledge of the faith," said Mary. 
 
 "I forgot that your Grace loves the Spaniards,' 
 said Cis, much in the tone in which she might have 
 spoken of a taste in her Grace for spiders, adders, or 
 any other noxious animal. 
 
 " One day my child will grow out of her little 
 heretic prejudices, and learn to love her mother's staunch 
 friends, the champions of Holy Church, and the repre- 
 sentatives of true knighthood in these degenerate days. 
 Ah, child ! couldst thou but see a true Spanish cabal- 
 lero, or again, could I but show thee my noble cousin of 
 Guise, then wouldst thou know how to rate these gross 
 clownish English mastiffs who now turn thy silly little 
 brain. Ah, that thou couldst once meet a true prince !" 
 
 " The well," murmured Cicely. 
 
 " Tush, child," said the Queen, amused. " What 
 of that ? Thy name is not Cis, is it ? 'Tis only the 
 slough that serves thee for the nonce. The good youth 
 will find himself linked to some homely, housewifely
 
 234 UNKNOWN TO HISTOEY. [CHAP. 
 
 Cis in due time, when the Princess Bride is queening 
 it in France or Austria, and will own that the well was 
 wiser than he." 
 
 Poor Cis ! If her inmost heart declared Humfrey 
 Talbot to be prince enough for her, she durst not enter- 
 tain the sentiment, not knowing whether it were un- 
 worthy, and while Marie de Courcelles read aloud a 
 French legend of a saint to soothe the Queen to sleep, 
 she lay longing after the more sympathetic mother, and 
 wondering what was passing in the hall. 
 
 Eichard Talbot had communed with his wife's eyes, 
 and made up his mind that Humfrey should know the 
 full truth before the Queen should enjoin his being put 
 off with the story of the parentage she had invented 
 for Bride Hepburn ; and while some of the gentlemen 
 followed their habit of sitting late over the wine cup, 
 he craved their leave to have his son to himself a little 
 while, and took him out in the summer twilight on the 
 greensward, going through the guards, for whom he, as 
 the gentleman warder, had the password of the night. 
 In compliment to the expedition of the day it had been 
 made " True love and the Flowing Well." It sounded 
 agreeable in Humfrey 's ears; he repeated it again, and 
 then added " Little Cis I she hath come to woman's 
 estate, and she hath caught some of the captive lady's 
 pretty tricks of the head and hands. How long hath 
 she been so thick with her ?" 
 
 " Since this journey. I have to speak with thee, my 
 son." 
 
 " I wait your pleasure, sir," said Humfrey, and as 
 his father paused a moment ere communicating his 
 strange tidings, he rendered the matter less easy by 
 saying, " I guess your purpose. If I may at once wed 
 my little Cis I will send word to Sir John Norreys that
 
 XVII.] THE EBBING WELL. 235 
 
 I am not for this expedition to the Low Countries, 
 though there is good and manly work to be done there, 
 and I have the offer of a command, but I gave not 
 my word till I knew your will, and whether we might 
 wed at once." 
 
 " Thou hast much to hear, my son." 
 
 " Nay, surely no one has come between ! " ex- 
 claimed Humfrey. " Methought she was less frank 
 and more coy than of old. If that sneaking traitor 
 Babington hath been making up to her I will slit his 
 false gullet for him." 
 
 " Hush, hush, Humfrey ! thy seafaring boasts skill 
 not here. No man hath come between thee and 
 yonder poor maid." 
 
 " Poor ! You mean not that she is sickly. Were 
 she so, I would so tend her that she should be well for 
 mere tenderness. But no, she was the very image of 
 health. No man, said you, father ? Then it is a 
 woman. Ah ! my Lady Countess is it, bent on making 
 her match her own way ? Sir, you are too good and 
 upright to let a tyrannous dame like that sever 
 between us, though she be near of kin to us. My 
 mother might scruple to cross her, but you have seen 
 the world, sir." 
 
 " My lad, you are right in that it is a woman who 
 stands between you and Cis, but it is not the Countess. 
 None would have the right to do so, save the maiden's 
 own mother." 
 
 " Her mother ! You have discovered her lineage ! 
 Can she have ought against me ? — I, your son, sir, of 
 the Talbot blood, and not ill endowed ? " 
 
 " Alack, son, the Talbot may be a good dog, but the 
 lioness will scarce esteem him her mate. Eiddles 
 apart, it is proved beyond question that our little maid
 
 236 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 is of birth as high as it is unhappy. Thou canst be 
 secret, I know, Humfrey, and thou must be silent as 
 the grave, for it touches my honour and the poor child's 
 liberty." 
 
 " Who is she, then ?" demanded Humfrey sharply. 
 
 His father pointed to the Queen's window. Hum- 
 frey stared at him, and muttered an ejaculation, then 
 exclaimed, "How and when was this known?" 
 
 Eichard went over the facts, giving as few names 
 as possible, while his son stood looking down and 
 drawing lines with the point of his sword. 
 
 " I hoped," ended the father, " that these five years' 
 absence might have made thee forget thy childish 
 inclination ;" and as Humfrey, without raising his face, 
 emphatically shook his head, he went on to add — " So, 
 my dear son, meseemeth that there is no remedy, but 
 that, for her peace and thine own, thou shouldest accept 
 this offer of brave Norreys, and by the time the 
 campaign is ended, they may be both safe in Scotland, 
 out of reach of vexing thy heart, my poor boy." 
 
 " Is it so sure that her royal lineage will be 
 owned ?" muttered Humfrey. " Out on me for saying 
 so ! But sure this lady hath made light enough of her 
 wedlock with yonder villain." 
 
 " Even so, but that was when she deemed its 
 offspring safe beneath the waves. I fear me that, how- 
 ever our poor damsel be regarded, she will be treated 
 as a mere bait and tool. If not bestowed on some 
 foreign prince (and there hath been talk of dukes and 
 archdukes), she may serve to tickle the pride of some 
 Scottish thief, such as was her father." 
 
 " Sir ! sir ! how can you speak patiently of such 
 profanation and cruelty ? Papist butchers and Scottish 
 thieves, for the child of your hearth ! Were it not
 
 XVII.] THE EBBING WELL. 237 
 
 better that I stole her safely away and wedded her in 
 secret, so that at least she might have an honest 
 husband ?" 
 
 " Xay, his honesty would scarce be thus manifest/' 
 said Richard, " even if the maid would consent, which 
 I think she would not. Her head is too full of her 
 new greatness to have room for thee, my poor lad. 
 Best that thou shouldest face the truth. And, verily, 
 what is it but her duty to obey her mother, her true 
 and veritable mother, Humfrey ? It is but making her 
 case harder, and adding to her griefs, to strive to 
 awaken any inclination she may have had for thee ; 
 and therefore it is that I counsel thee, nay, I 
 might command thee, to absent thyself while it is still 
 needful that she remain with us, passing for our 
 daughter." 
 
 Humfrey still traced lines with his sword in the 
 dust. He had always been a strong-willed though an 
 obedient and honourable boy, and his father felt that 
 these five years had made a man of him, whom, in 
 spite of mediseval obedience, it was not easy to dispose 
 of arbitrarily. 
 
 " There's no haste," he muttered. " Xorreys will 
 not go till my Lord of Leicester's commission be made 
 out. It is five years since I was at home." 
 
 " My son, thou knowest that I would not send thee 
 from me willingly. I had not done so ere now, but 
 that it was well for thee to know the world and men, 
 and Sheffield is a mere nest of intrigue and falsehood, 
 where even if one keeps one's integrity, it is hard to be 
 believed. But for my Lord, thy mother, and my poor 
 folk, I would gladly go with thee to strike honest 
 downright blows at a foe I could see and feel, rather 
 than be nothing better than a warder, and be driven
 
 238 UNKNOWN TO HISTOEY. [CHAP. 
 
 distracted with women's tongues. Why, they have 
 even set division between my Lord and his son Gilbert, 
 who was ever the dearest to him. Young as he is, 
 methinks Diccon would be better away with thee than 
 where the very air smells of plots and lies." 
 
 " 1 trow the Queen of Scots will not be here much 
 longer," said Humfrey. " Men say in London that Sir 
 Balf Sadler is even now setting forth to take charge of 
 her, and send my Lord to London." 
 
 " We have had such hopes too often, my son," said 
 Eichard. " Nay, she hath left us more than once, but 
 always to fall back upon Sheffield like a weight to the 
 ground. But she is full of hope in her son, now that 
 he is come of age, and hath put to death her great foe, 
 the Earl of Morton." 
 
 " The poor lady might as well put her faith in — 
 in a jelly-fish," said Humfrey, falling on a comparison 
 perfectly appreciated by the old sailor. 
 
 " Heh ? She will get naught but stings. How 
 knowest thou ?" 
 
 " Why, do none know here that King James is in 
 the hands of him they call the Master of Gray ? " 
 
 " Queen Mary puts in him her chief hope." 
 
 " Then she hath indeed grasped a jelly-fish. Know 
 you not, father, those proud and gay ones, with rose- 
 coloured bladders and long blue beards — blue as the 
 azure of a herald's coat ?" 
 
 " Ay, marry I do. I remember when I was a lad, 
 in my first voyage, laying hold on one. I warrant 
 you I danced about till I was nearly overboard, and 
 my arm was as big as two for three days later. Is 
 the fellow of that sort ? The false Scot." 
 
 "Look you, father, I met in London that same 
 Johnstone who was one of this lady's gentlemen at
 
 XVII.] THE EBBING WELL. 239 
 
 one time. You remember him. He breakfasted at 
 Bridgefield once or twice ere the watch became more 
 strict." 
 
 " Yea, I remember him. He was an honest fellow 
 for a Scot." 
 
 " AYhen he made out that I was the little lad he 
 remembered, he was very courteous, and desired his 
 commendations to you and to my mother. He had 
 been in Scotland, and had come south in the train of 
 this rogue, Gray. I took him to see the old Pelican, 
 and we had a breakfast aboard there. He asked much 
 after his poor Queen, whom he loves as much as ever, 
 and when he saw I was a man he could trust, your 
 true son, he said that he saw less hope for her than 
 ever in Scotland — her friends have been slain or 
 exiled, and the young generation that has grown up 
 have learned to dread her like an incarnation of the 
 scarlet one of Babylon. Their preachers would hail her 
 as Satan loosed on them, and the nobles dread nothing 
 so much as being made to disgorge the lands of the 
 Crown and the Church, on which they are battening. 
 As to her son, he was fain enough to break forth from 
 one set of tutors, and the messages of France and Spain 
 tickled his fancy — but he is nought. He is crammed 
 with scholarship, and not without a shrewd apprehen- 
 sion ; but, with respect be it spoken, more the stuff 
 that court fools are made of than kings. It may be, 
 as a learned man told Johnstone, that the shock the 
 Queen suffered when the brutes put Davy to death 
 before her eyes, three months ere his birth, hath dam- 
 aged his constitution, for he is at the mercy of whoso- 
 ever chooses to lead him, and hath no will of his own. 
 This Master of Gray was at first inclined to the 
 Queen's party, thinking more might be got by a reversal
 
 240 UNKNOWN TO HISTOEY. [CHAP. 
 
 of all things, but now he finds the king's men so strong 
 in the saddle, and the Queen's French kindred like to 
 be too busy at home to aid her, what doth he do, but 
 list to our Queen's offers, and this ambassage of his, 
 which hath a colour of being for Queen Mary's release, 
 is verily to make terms with my Lord Treasurer and 
 Sir Francis Walsingham for the pension he is to have 
 for keeping his king in the same mind." 
 
 " Turning a son against a mother ! I marvel that 
 honourable counsellors can bring themselves to the 
 like." 
 
 " Policy, sir, policy," said Humfrey. " And this 
 Gray maketh a fine show of chivalry and honour, in- 
 somuch that Sir Philip Sidney himself hath desired his 
 friendship ; but, you see, the poor lady is as far from 
 freedom as she was when first she came to Sheffield." 
 
 " She is very far from believing it, poor dame. I 
 am sorry for her, Humfrey, more sorry than I ever 
 thought I could be, now I have seen more of her. 
 My Lord himself says he never knew her break a 
 promise. How gracious she is there is no telling." 
 
 "That we always knew," said Humfrey, looking 
 somewhat amazed, that his honoured father should 
 have fallen under the spell of the " siren between the 
 cold earth and moon." 
 
 " Yes, gracious, and of a wondrous constancy of 
 mind, and evenness of temper," said Eichard. " Now 
 that thy mother and I have watched her more closely, 
 we can testify that, weary, worn, and sick of body and 
 of heart as she is, she never letteth a bitter or a chid- 
 ing word pass her lips towards her servants. She hath 
 nothing to lose by it. Their fidelity is proven. They 
 would stand by her to the last, use them as she would, 
 but assuredly their love must be doubly bound up in
 
 XVII.] THE EBBING WELL. 241 
 
 her when they see how she regardeth them before her- 
 self. Let what will be said of her, son Humfrey, I 
 shall always maintain that I never saw woman, save 
 thine own good mother, of such evenness of condition, 
 and sweetness of consideration for all about her, ay, 
 and patience in adversity, such as, Heaven forbid, 
 thy mother should ever know." 
 
 " Amen, and verily amen," said Humfrey. " Deem 
 you then that she hath not worked her own woe ?" 
 
 " Nay, lad, what saith the Scripture, ' Judge not, 
 and ye shall not be judged ' ? How should I know 
 what hath passed seventeen years back in Scotland ?" 
 
 "Ay, but for present plots and intrigues, judge 
 you her a true woman ?" 
 
 " Humfrey, thou hadst once a fox in a cage. When 
 it found it vain to dash against the bars, rememberest 
 thou how it scratched away the earth in the rear, and 
 then sat over the hole it had made, lest we should see 
 it?" 
 
 " The fox, say you, sir ? Then you cannot call her 
 ought but false." 
 
 " They tell me," said Sir Eichard, " that ever since an 
 Italian named Machiavel wrote his Book of the Prince, 
 statecraft hath been craft indeed, and princes suck in 
 deceit with the very air they breathe. Ay, boy, it is 
 what chiefly vexes me in the whole. I cannot doubt 
 that she is never so happy as when there is a plot or 
 scheme toward, not merely for her own freedom, but 
 the utter overthrow of our own gracious Sovereign, 
 who, if she hath kept this lady in durance, hath 
 shielded her from her own bloodthirsty subjects. And 
 for dissembling, I never saw her equal. Yet she, as 
 thy mother tells me, is a pious and devout woman, who 
 bears her troubles thus cheerfully and patiently, be- 
 
 VOL. I. r
 
 242 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 cause she deems them a martyrdom for her religion. 
 Ay, all women are riddles, they say, but this one the 
 most of all !" 
 
 "Thinkest thou that she hath tampered with — 
 with that poor maiden's faith ? " asked Humfrey 
 huskily. 
 
 " I trow not yet, my son," replied Eichard ; " Cis is 
 as open as ever to thy mother, for I cannot believe she 
 hath yet learnt to dissemble, and I greatly suspect that 
 the Queen, hoping to return to Scotland, may be will- 
 ing to keep her a Protestant, the better to win favour 
 with her brother and the lords of his council ; but if 
 he be such a cur as thou sayest, all hope of honourable 
 release is at an end. So thou seest, Humfrey, how it 
 lies, and how, in my judgment, to remain here is but 
 to wring thine own heart, and bring the wench and 
 thyself to sore straits. I lay not my commands on 
 thee, a man grown, but such is my opinion on the 
 matter." 
 
 "I will not disobey you, father," said Humfrey, 
 " but suffer me to consider the matter."
 
 XVIII.] CIS OK SISTER. 243 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 CIS OR SISTER. 
 
 Buxtona, quae calidse celebraris nomine lymphce 
 Forte niilii post hac non adeunda, Vale. 1 
 
 Thus wrote Queen Mary with a diamond upon her 
 window pane, smiling as she said, " There, we will 
 leave a memento over which the admirable Dr. Jones 
 will gloat his philosophical soul Never may I see 
 thee more, Buxton, yet never thought I to be so happy 
 as I have here been." 
 
 She spoke with the tenderness of farewell to the 
 spot which had always been the pleasantest abode of 
 the various places of durance which had been hers in 
 England. Each year she had hoped would be her last 
 of such visits, but on this occasion everything seemed 
 to point to a close to the present state of things, since 
 not only were the negotiations with Scotland appa- 
 rently prosperous, but Lord Shrewsbury had obtained 
 an absolute promise from Elizabeth that she would at 
 all events relieve him from his onerous and expensive 
 charge. Thus there was general cheerfulness, as the 
 baggage was bestowed in carts and on beasts of burthen, 
 and Mary, as she stood finishing her inscription on 
 
 1 Buxton, of whose warm waters all men tell, 
 Perchance I ne'er shall see thee more, Farewell.
 
 244 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 the window, smiled sweetly and graciously on Mistress 
 Talbot, and gave her joy of the arrival of her towardly 
 and hopeful son, adding, " We surprised him at the 
 well ! May his Cis, who is yet to be found, I trow, 
 reward his lealty ! " 
 
 That was all the notice Mary deigned to take of 
 the former relations between her daughter and young 
 Talbot. She did not choose again to beg for secrecy 
 when she was sure to hear that she had been fore- 
 stalled, and she was too consummate a judge of 
 character not to have learnt that, though she might 
 despise the dogged, simple straightforwardness of 
 Eichard and Susan Talbot, their honour was perfectly 
 trustworthy. She was able for the present to keep 
 her daughter almost entirely to herself, since, on the 
 return to Sheffield, the former state of things was 
 resumed. The Bridgefield family was still quartered 
 in the Manor-house, and Mistress Talbot continued to 
 be, as it were, Lady Warder to the captive in the 
 place of the Countess, who obstinately refused to 
 return while Mary was still in her husband's keeping. 
 Cicely, as Mary's acknowledged favourite, was almost 
 always in her apartments, except at the meals of the 
 whole company of Shrewsbury kinsfolk and retainers, 
 when her place was always far removed from that of 
 Humfrey. In truth, if ever an effort might have 
 obtained a few seconds of private conversation, a 
 strong sense of embarrassment and perplexity made 
 the two young people fly apart rather than come 
 together. They knew not what they wished. Hum- 
 frey might in his secret soul long for a token that Cis 
 remembered his faithful affection, and yet he knew 
 that to elicit one might do her life-long injury. So, 
 however he might crave for word or look when out of
 
 XVI II. ] CIS OR SISTER. 245 
 
 sight of her, an honourable reluctance always withheld 
 him from seeking any such sign in the short intervals 
 when he could have tried to go beneath the surface. 
 On the other hand, this apparent indifference piqued 
 her pride, and made her stiff, cold, and almost dis- 
 dainful whenever there was any approach between 
 them. Her vanity might be nattered by the know- 
 ledge that she was beyond his reach ; but it woidd 
 have been still more gratified could she have dis- 
 covered any symptoms of pining and languishing after 
 her. She might peep at him from under her eye- 
 lashes in chapel and in hall ; but in the former place 
 his gaze always seemed to be on the minister, in the 
 latter he showed no signs of flagging as a trencher 
 companion. Both mothers thought her marvellously 
 discreet ; but neither beheld the strange tumult in her 
 heart, where were surging pride, vanity, ambition, and 
 wounded affection. 
 
 In a few days, Sir Ealf Sadler and his son-in-law Mr. 
 Somer arrived at Sheffield in order to take the charge 
 of the prisoner whilst Shrewsbury went to London. 
 The conferences and consultations were endless and 
 harassing, and it was finally decided that the Earl 
 should escort her to "Wingfield, and, leaving her there 
 under charge of Sadler, should proceed to London. 
 She made formal application for Mistress Cicely Talbot 
 to accompany her as one of her suite, and her sup- 
 posed parents could not but give their consent, but 
 six gentlewomen had been already enumerated, and 
 the authorities would not consent to her taking any 
 more ladies with her, and decreed that Mistress Cicely 
 must remain at home. 
 
 " This unkindness has made the parting from this 
 place less joyous than I looked for," said Mary, " but
 
 246 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 courage, ma mignonne. Soon shall I send for thee to 
 Scotland, and there shalt thou burst thine husk, and 
 show thyself in thy true colours ; " and turning to 
 Susan, " Madam, I must commit my treasure to her 
 who has so long watched over her." 
 
 " Your Grace knows that she is no less my treasure," 
 said Susan. 
 
 " I should have known it well," returned the 
 Queen, "from the innocence and guilelessness of the 
 damsel. None save such a mother as Mistress Talbot 
 could have made her what she is. Credit me, madam, 
 I have looked well into her heart, and found nought 
 to undo there. You have bred her up better than her 
 poor mother could have done, and I gladly entrust her 
 once more to your care, assured that your well-tried 
 honour will keep her in mind of what she is, and to 
 what she may be called." 
 
 " She shall remember it, madam," said Susan. 
 
 " When I am a Queen once more," said Mary, " all 
 I can give will seem too poor a meed for what you 
 have been to my child. Even as Queen of Scotland 
 or England itself, my power would be small in com- 
 parison with my will. My gratitude, however, no 
 bounds can limit out to me." 
 
 And with tears of tenderness and thankfulness she 
 kissed the cheeks and lips of good Mistress Talbot, 
 who could not but likewise weep for the mother thus 
 compelled to part with her child. 
 
 The night was partly spent in caresses and promises 
 of the brilliant reception preparing in Scotland, with 
 auguries of the splendid marriage in store, with a 
 Prince of Lorraine, or even with an Archduke. 
 
 Cis was still young enough to dream of such a lot 
 as an opening to a fairy land of princely glories. If
 
 XVIII. ] CIS OR SISTER. 247 
 
 her mother knew better, she still looked tenderly back 
 on her bea u pays de France with that halo of brightness 
 which is formed only in childhood and youth. Moreover, 
 it might be desirable to enhance such aspiration as might 
 best secure the young princess from anything derogatory 
 to her real rank, while she was strongly warned against 
 betraying it, and especially against any assumption of 
 dignity should she ever hear of her mother's release, 
 reception, and recognition in Scotland. For whatever 
 might be the maternal longings, it would be needful to 
 feel the way and prepare the ground for the acknow- 
 ledgment of Bothwell's daughter in Scotland, while 
 the knowledge of her existence in England would 
 almost surely lead to her being detained as a hostage. 
 She likewise warned the maiden never to regard any 
 letter or billet from her as fully read till it had been 
 held — without witnesses — to the fire. 
 
 Of Humfrey Talbot, Queen Mary scorned to say 
 anything, or to utter a syllable that she thought a 
 daughter of Scotland needed a warning against a 
 petty English sailor. Indeed, she had confidence that 
 the youth's parents would view the attachment as 
 quite as undesirable for him as for the young princess, 
 and would guard against it for his sake as much as for 
 hers. 
 
 The true parting took place ere the household was 
 astir. Afterwards, Mary, fully equipped for travelling, 
 in a dark cloth riding-dress and hood, came across to the 
 great hall of the Manor-house, and there sat while each 
 one of the attendants filed in procession, as it were, before 
 her. To each lady she presented some small token 
 wrought by her own hands. To each gentleman she 
 also gave some trinket, such as the elaborate dress of 
 the time permitted, and to each serving man or maid a
 
 248 UNKNOWN TO HISTOEY. [CHAP. 
 
 piece of money. Of each one she gravely but gently 
 besought pardon for all the displeasures or offences she 
 might have caused them, and as they replied, kissing 
 her hand, many of them with tears, she returned a kiss 
 on the brow to each woman and an entreaty to be re- 
 membered in their prayers, and a like request, with a 
 pressure of the hand, to each man or boy. 
 
 It must have been a tedious ceremony, and yet to 
 every one it seemed as if Mary put her whole heart 
 into it, and to any to whom she owed special thanks 
 they were freely paid. 
 
 The whole was only over by an hour before noon. 
 Then she partook of a manchet and a cup of wine, 
 drinking, with liquid eyes, to the health and prosperity 
 of her good host, and to the restoration of his family 
 peace, which she had so sorely, though unwittingly, 
 disturbed. 
 
 Then she let him hand her out, once more kissing 
 Susan Talbot and Cis, who was weeping bitterly, and 
 whispering to the latter, " Not over much grief, ma 
 petite ; not more than may befit, ma mignonne." 
 
 Lord Shrewsbury lifted her on her horse, and, with 
 him on one side and Sir Ealf Sadler on the other, she 
 rode down the long avenue on her way to Wingfield. 
 
 The Bridgefield family had already made their 
 arrangements, and their horses were waiting for them 
 amid the jubilations of Diccon and Ned. The Queen 
 had given each of them a fair jewel, with special 
 thanks to them for being good brothers to her dear 
 Cis. " As if one wanted thanks for being good to 
 one's own sister," said Ned, thrusting the delicate little 
 ruby brooch on his mother to be taken care of till his 
 days of foppery should set in, and he would need it 
 for cap and plume.
 
 XVIII. ] CIS OR SISTER. 249 
 
 " Come, Cis, we are going home at last," said 
 Diccon. " "What ! thou art not breaking thine heart 
 over yonder Scottish lady — when we are going home, 
 home, I say, and have got rid of watch and ward for 
 ever ? Hurrah !" and he threw up his cap, and was 
 joined in the shout by more than one of the youngsters 
 around, for Richard and most of the elders were 
 escorting the Queen out of the park, and Mistress Susan 
 had been summoned on some question of household 
 stuff. Cis, however, stood leaning against the balus- 
 trade, over which she had leant for the last glance 
 exchanged with her mother, her face hidden in her 
 hands and kerchief, weeping bitterly, feeling as if all 
 the glory and excitement of the last few weeks had 
 vanished as a dream and left her to the dreary dul- 
 ness of common life, as little insignificant Cis Talbot 
 again. 
 
 It was Humfrey who first came near, almost timidly 
 touched her hand, and said, " Cheer up. It is but for 
 a little while, mayhap. She will send for thee. 
 Come, here is thine old palfrey — poor old Dapple. 
 Let me put thee on him, and for this brief time let us 
 feign that all is as it was, and thou art my little sister 
 once more." 
 
 " I know not which is truth and which is dreaming," 
 said Cis, waking up through her tears, but resigning 
 her hand to him, and letting him lift her to her seat 
 on the old pony which had been the playfellow of both. 
 
 If it had been an effort to Humfrey to prolong the 
 word Cis into sister, he was rewarded for it. It gave 
 the key-note to their intercourse, and set her at ease 
 with him ; and the idea that her present rustication 
 was but a comedy instead of a reality was consoling in 
 her present frame of mind. Mistress Susan, surrounded
 
 250 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 with, importunate inquirers as to household matters, 
 and unable to escape from them, could only see that 
 Humfrey had taken charge of the maiden, and trusted 
 to his honour and his tact. This was, however, only 
 the beginning of a weary and perplexing time. Nothing 
 could restore Cis to her old place in the Bridgefield 
 household, or make her look upon its tasks, cares, and 
 joys as she had done only a few short months ago. 
 Her share in them could only be acting, and she was too 
 artless and simple to play a part. Most frequently she 
 was listless, dull, and pining, so much inclined to despise 
 and neglect the ordinary household occupations which 
 befitted the daughter of the family, that her adopted 
 mother was forced, for the sake of her incognito, to 
 rouse, and often to scold her when any witnesses were 
 present who would have thought Mrs. Talbot's toleration 
 of such conduct in a daughter suspicious and unnatural. 
 
 Such reproofs were dangerous in another way, for 
 Humfrey could not bear to hear them, and was driven 
 nearly to the verge of disrespect and perilous approaches 
 to implying that Cis was no ordinary person to be 
 sharply reproved when she sat musing and sighing 
 instead of sewing Diccon's shirts. 
 
 Even the father himself could not well brook to 
 hear the girl blamed, and both he and Humfrey could 
 not help treating her with a kind of deference that 
 made the younger brothers gape and wonder what had 
 come to Humfrey on his travels " to make him treat 
 our Cis as a born princess." 
 
 " You irreverent varlets," said Humfrey, " you have 
 yet to learn that every woman ought to be treated as 
 a born princess.' , 
 
 " By cock and pie," said spoilt ISTed, " that beats 
 all ! One's own sister !"
 
 XVIII.] CIS OR SISTER. 251 
 
 Whereupon Humfrey had the opportunity of vent- 
 ing a little of his vexation by thrashing his brother for 
 his oath, while sharp Diccon innocently asked if men 
 never swore by anything when at sea, and thereby 
 nearly got another castigation for irreverent mocking 
 of his elder brother's discipline. 
 
 At other times the girl's natural activity and high 
 spirits gained the upper hand, and she would abandon 
 herself without reserve to the old homely delights of 
 Bridgefield. At the apple gathering, she was running 
 about, screaming with joy, and pelting the boys with 
 apples, more as she had done at thirteen than at 
 seventeen, and when called to order she inconsistently 
 pleaded, " Ah, mother ! it is for the last time. Do but 
 let me have my swing !" putting on a wistful arid 
 caressing look, which Susan did not withstand when 
 the only companions were the three brothers, since 
 Humfrey had much of her own unselfishness and self- 
 command, resulting in a discretion that was seldom 
 at fault. 
 
 And that discretion made him decide at a fortnight's 
 end that his father had been right, and that it would 
 be better for him to absent himself from where he 
 could do no good, but only added to the general per- 
 plexity, and involved himself in the temptation of 
 betraying the affection he knew to be hopeless. 
 
 Before, however, it was possible to fit out either 
 Diccon or the four men who were anxious to go under 
 the leadership of Master Humfrey of Bridgefield, the 
 Earl and Countess of Shrewsbury were returning fully 
 reconciled. Queen Elizabeth had made the Caven- 
 dishes ask pardon on their knees of the Earl for their 
 slanders ; and he, in his joy, had freely forgiven all. 
 Gilbert Talbot and his wife had shared in the general
 
 252 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 reconciliation. His elder brother's death had made 
 him the heir apparent, and all were coming home 
 again, including the little Lady Arbell, once more to fill 
 the Castle and the Manor-house, and to renew the free 
 hospitable life of a great feudal chief, or of the Queen's 
 old courtier, with doors wide open, and no ward or 
 suspicion. 
 
 Pdchard rejoiced that his sons, before going abroad, 
 should witness the return to the old times which had 
 been at an end before they could remember Sheffield 
 distinctly. The whole family were drawn up as usual 
 to receive them, when the Earl and Countess arrived 
 first of all at the Manor-house. 
 
 The Countess looked smaller, thinner, older, per- 
 haps a trifle more shrewish, but she had evidently 
 suffered much, and was very glad to have recovered 
 her husband and her home. 
 
 " So, Susan Talbot," was her salutation, " you have 
 thriven, it seems. You have been playing the part of 
 hostess, I hear." 
 
 " Only so far as might serve his Lordship, madam." 
 
 " And the wench, there, what call you her ? Ay, 
 Cicely. I hear the Scottish Queen hath been cocker- 
 ing her up and making her her bedfellow, till she hath 
 spoilt her for a reasonable maiden. Is it so ? She 
 looks it." 
 
 " I trust not, madam," said Susan. 
 
 " She grows a strapping wench, and we must find 
 her a good husband to curb her pride. I have a young 
 man already in my eye for her." 
 
 " So please your Ladyship, we do not think of 
 marrying her as yet," returned Susan, in consternation. 
 
 " Tilly vally, Susan Talbot, tell me not such folly 
 as that. Why, the maid is over seventeen at the very
 
 XVIII.] CIS OR SISTEE. 253 
 
 least ! Save for all the coil tins Scottish woman and 
 her crew have made, I should have seen her well 
 mated a year ago." 
 
 Here was a satisfactory prospect for Mistress Susan, 
 bred as she had been to unquestioning submission to 
 the Countess. There was no more to be said on that 
 occasion, as the great lady passed on to bestow her 
 notice on others of her little court. 
 
 Humfrey meantime had been warmly greeted by 
 the younger men of the suite, and one of them 
 handed him a letter which filled him with eagerness. 
 It was from an old shipmate, who wrote, not without 
 sanction, to inform him that Sir Francis Drake was 
 fitting out an expedition, with the full consent of the 
 Queen, to make a descent upon the Spaniards, and that 
 there was no doubt that if he presented himself at 
 Plymouth, he would obtain either the command, or at 
 any rate the lieutenancy, of one of the numerous ships 
 which were to be commissioned. Humfrey was before 
 all else a sailor. He had made no engagement to Sir 
 John Xorreys, and many of the persons engaged on 
 this expedition were already known to him. It was 
 believed that the attack was to be upon Spain itself, 
 and the notion filled him with ardour and excitement 
 that almost drove Cicely out of his mind, as he laid 
 the proposal before his father. 
 
 Eichard was scarcely less excited. "You young 
 lads are in luck," he said. " I sailed for years and 
 never had more than a chance brush with the Don ; 
 never the chance of bearding him on his own shores !" 
 
 " Come with us, then, father," entreated Humfrey. 
 " Sir Francis would be overjoyed to see you. You 
 would get the choicest ship to your share." 
 
 " Xay, nay, my boy, tempt me not ; I cannot leave
 
 254 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 your mother to meet all the coils that may fall in her 
 way ! No ; I'm too old. I've lost my sea legs. I 
 leave thee to win the fame, son Humfrey!" 
 
 The decision was thus made, and Humfrey and 
 Diccon were to start together for London first, and then 
 for Plymouth, the second day after a great festival for 
 the wedding of the little Alethea, daughter of Gilbert, 
 Lord Talbot — still of very tender age — to the young 
 heir of Arundel. The Talbot family had been pre- 
 cluded from holding festival for full fourteen years, 
 or indeed from entertaining any guests, save the Com- 
 missioners sent down to confer from time to time with 
 the captive Queen, so that it was no wonder that they 
 were in the highest possible spirits at their release, and 
 determined to take the first opportunity of exercising 
 the gorgeous hospitality of the Tudor times. 
 
 Posts went out, riding round all the neighbourhood 
 with invitations. The halls were swept and adorned 
 with the best suit of hangings. All the gentlemen, 
 young and old, all the keepers and verdurers, were put 
 in requisition to slaughter all the game, quadruped and 
 biped, that fell in their way, the village women and 
 children were turned loose on the blackberries, cran- 
 berries, and bilberries, and all the ladies and serving- 
 women were called on to concoct pasties of many stories 
 high, subtilties of wonderful curiosity, sweetmeats and 
 comfits, cakes and marchpanes worthy of Camacho's 
 wedding, or to deck the halls with green boughs, and 
 weave garlands of heather and red berries. 
 
 Cis absolutely insisted, so that the heads of the 
 household gave way, on riding out with Bichard and 
 Humfrey when they had a buck to mark down in 
 Eivelin Chase. And she set her heart on going out to 
 gather cranberries in the park, flinging herself about
 
 XVIII.] CIS OR SISTER. 255 
 
 with petulant irritation when Dame Susan showed 
 herself unwilling to permit a proceeding which was 
 thought scarcely becoming in any w T ell-born damsel of 
 the period. * Ah, child, child ! thou wilt have to 
 bear worse restraints than these," she said, "if ever 
 thou comest to thy greatness." 
 
 Cis made no answer, but threw herself into a chair 
 and pouted. 
 
 The next morning she did not present herself at the 
 usual hour ; but just as the good mother was about to 
 go in quest of her to her chamber, a clear voice came 
 singing up the valley — 
 
 " Berries to sell ! berries to sell ! 
 Berries fresh from moorland fell!" 
 
 And there stood a girl in peasant dress, with short 
 petticoats, stout shoes soaked in dew, a round face 
 under black brows, and cheeks glowing in morning 
 freshness; and a boy swung the other handle of thy 
 basket overflowing with purple berries. 
 
 It was but a shallow disguise betrayed by the two 
 roguish faces, and the good mother was so pleased to 
 see Cis smile merrily again, that she did not scold over 
 the escapade. 
 
 Yet the inconsistent girl hotly refused to go up to 
 the castle and help to make pastry for her mother's 
 bitter and malicious foe, and Sir Eichard shook his head 
 and said she was in the right on't, and should not be 
 compelled. So Susan found herself making lame 
 excuses, which did not avert a sharp lecture from the 
 Countess on the cockering of her daughter.
 
 236 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 CHAPTEK XIX. 
 
 THE CLASH OF SWORDS. 
 
 Festivals in the middle ages were conducted by day 
 rather than by night, and it was a bright noonday sun 
 that shone upon the great hall at Sheffield, bedecked 
 with rich tapestry around the dais, where the floor was 
 further spread with Eastern carpets. Below, the 
 garniture of the walls was of green boughs, interspersed 
 between stag's antlers, and the floor was strewn, in 
 ancient fashion, with the fragrant rush. 
 
 All the tables, however, were spread with pure 
 white napery, the difference being only in texture, but 
 the higher table rejoiced in the wonderful extravagance 
 of silver plates, while the lower had only trenchers. 
 As to knives, each guest brought his or her own, and 
 forks were not yet, but bread, in long fingers of crust, 
 was provided to a large amount to supply the want. 
 Splendid salt-cellars, towering as landmarks to the 
 various degrees of guests, tankards, gilt and parcel gilt 
 or shining with silver, perfectly swarmed along the 
 board, and the meanest of the guests present drank 
 from silver-rimmed cups of horn, while for the very 
 greatest were reserved the tall, slender, opal Venice 
 glasses, recently purchased by the Countess in London. 
 
 The pies, the glory of Yorkshire, surpassed them-
 
 XIX.] THE CLASH OF SWORDS. 257 
 
 selves. The young bride and bridegroom had the 
 felicity of contemplating one whose crust was elevated 
 into the altar of Hymen, with their own selves united 
 thereat, attended by numerous Cupids, made chiefly in 
 paste and sugar, and with little wings from the 
 feathers of the many slaughtered fowl within. As to 
 the jellies, the devices and the subtilties, the pen re- 
 fuses to describe them ! It will be enough to say that 
 the wedding itself was the least part of the entertain- 
 ment. It was gone through with very few spectators 
 in the early morning, and the guests only assembled 
 afterwards to this mighty dinner at a somewhat earlier 
 hour than they would now to a wedding breakfast. 
 The sewer marshalled all the guests in pairs according 
 to their rank, having gone through the roll with his 
 mistress, just as the lady of the house or her aide-de- 
 camp pairs the guests and puts cards in their plates in 
 modern times. Every one was there who had any 
 connection with the Earl ; and Cis, though flashes of 
 recollection of her true claims would come across her 
 now and then, was unable to keep from being eager 
 about her first gaiety. Perhaps the strange life she 
 had led at Buxton, as it receded in the distance, 
 became more and more unreal and shadowy, and 
 she was growing back into the simple Cicely she had 
 always believed herself. It was with perfectly girlish 
 natural pleasure that she donned the delicate sky-blue 
 farthingale, embroidered with white lilies by the skilful 
 hands of the captive Queen, and the daintily-fashioned 
 little cap of Flanders lace, and practised the pretty 
 dancing steps which the Queen had amused herself with 
 teaching her long ere they knew they were mother and 
 daughter. 
 
 As Talbots, the Bridget! eld family were spectators 
 vol. i. s
 
 258 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP, 
 
 of the wedding, after which, one by one, the seneschal 
 paired them off. Eichard was called away first, then 
 a huge old Yorkshire knight came and bore away 
 Mrs. Susan, and after an interval, during which the 
 young people entertained hopes of keeping together in 
 enviable obscurity, the following summons to the board 
 was heard in a loud voice — 
 
 " Master Antony Babington, Esquire, of Dethick ! 
 Mistress Cicely Talbot, of Bridgefield." 
 
 Humfrey's brow grew dark with disappointment, 
 but cleared into a friendly greeting, as there advanced 
 a tall, slender gentleman, of the well-known fair, pink 
 and white colouring, and yellow hair, apparelled point 
 device in dark green velvet, with a full delicately 
 crimped ruff, bowing low as he extended his hand to 
 take that of the young lady, exchanging at the same 
 time a friendly greeting with his old comrade, before 
 leading Cis to her place. 
 
 On the whole, she was pleased. Tete-a-tetes with 
 Humfrey were dreadfully embarrassing, and she felt life 
 so flat without her nocturnal romance that she was 
 very glad to have some one who would care to talk to 
 her of the Queen. In point of fact, such conversation 
 was prohibited. In the former days, when there had 
 been much more intercourse between the Earl's house- 
 hold and the neighbourhood, regular cautions had been 
 given to every member of it not to discuss the prisoner 
 or make any communication about her habits. The 
 younger generation who had grown up in the time of 
 the closer captivity had never been instructed in these 
 laws, for the simple reason that they hardly saw any one. 
 Antony and Cicely were likewise most comfortably 
 isolated, for she was flanked by a young esquire, who 
 had no eyes nor ears save for the fair widow of sixteen
 
 XIX.] THE CLASH OF SWORDS. 259 
 
 whom be had just led in, and Antony, by a fat and 
 deaf lady, whose only interest was in tasting as many 
 varieties of good cheer as she could, and trying to 
 discover how and of what they were compounded. 
 Knowing Mistress Cicely to be a member of the family, 
 she once or twice referred the question to her across 
 Antony, but getting very little satisfaction, she gave up 
 the young lady as a bad specimen of housewifery, and 
 was forced to be content with her own inductions. 
 
 i There was plenty of time for Antony to begin with, 
 " Are there as many conies as ever in the chase ?" and 
 to begin on a discussion of all the memories connected 
 with the free days of childhood, the blackberry and 
 bilberry gatherings, the hide-and-seek in the rocks and 
 heather, the consternation when little Dick was lost, 
 the audacious comedy with the unsuspected spectators, 
 and all the hundred and one recollections, less memor- 
 able perhaps, but no less delightful to both. It was 
 only thus gradually that they approached their recent 
 encounter in the Castleton Cavern, and Antony ex- 
 plained how he had burnt to see his dear Queen and 
 mistress once again, and that his friends, Tichborne and 
 the rest, were ready to kiss every footstep she had 
 taken, and almost worshipped him and John Eyre for 
 contriving this mode of letting them behold the hitherto 
 unknown object of their veneration. 
 
 All that passionate, chivalrous devotion, which in 
 Sidney, Spenser, and many more attached itself to their 
 great Gloriana, had in these young men, all either 
 secretly or openly reconciled to Borne, found its object 
 in that rival in whom Edmund Spenser only beheld 
 his false Duessa or snowy Florimel. And, indeed, 
 romance had in her a congenial heroine, who needed 
 little self-blinding so to appear. Her beauty needed
 
 260 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 no illusion to be credited. Even at her age, now over 
 forty, the glimpse they had had in the fitful torchlight 
 of the cavern had been ravishing, and had confirmed 
 all they had ever heard of her witching loveliness; 
 nor did they recollect how that very obscurity might 
 have assisted it. 
 
 To their convictions, she was the only legitimate 
 sovereign in the island, a confessor for their beloved 
 Church, a captive princess and beauty driven from her 
 throne, and kept in durance by a usurper. Thus every 
 generous feeling was enlisted in her cause, with nothing 
 to counterbalance them save the English hatred of 
 the Spaniard, with whom her cause was inextricably 
 linked; a dread of what might be inflicted on the 
 country in the triumph of her party ; and in some, a 
 strange inconsistent personal loyalty to Elizabeth ; but 
 all these they were instructed to believe mere tempta- 
 tions and delusions that ought to be brushed aside as 
 cobwebs. 
 
 Antony's Puritan tutor at Cambridge had, as Eichard 
 Talbot had foreboded, done little but add to his detesta- 
 tion of the Eeformation, and he had since fallen in 
 with several of the seminary priests who were circulat- 
 ing in England. Some were devoted and pious men, who 
 at the utmost risk went from house to house to con- 
 firm the faith and constancy of the old families of 
 their own communion. The saintly martyr spirit of 
 one of these, whom Antony met in the house of a 
 kinsman of his mother, had so wrought on him as to 
 bring him heart and soul back to his mother's pro- 
 fession, in which he had been secretly nurtured in 
 early childhood, and which had received additional 
 confirmation at Sheffield, where Queen Mary and her 
 ]adies had always shown that they regarded him as one
 
 XIX.] THE CLASH OF SWORDS. 261 
 
 of themselves, sure to return to them when he was his 
 own master. It was not, however, of this that he 
 spoke to Cis, but whatever she ventured to tell him of 
 the Queen was listened to with delight as an extreme 
 favour, which set her tongue off with all the eager 
 pleasure of a girl, telling what she alone can tell. 
 
 All through the banquet they talked, for Babington 
 had much to ask of all the members of the household 
 whom he had known. And after the feast was over 
 and the hall was cleared for dancing, Antony w T as 
 still, by etiquette, her partner for the evening. The 
 young bride and bridegroom had first to perform a 
 stately pavise before the whole assembly in the centre 
 of the floor, in which, poor young tilings, they acquitted 
 themselves much as if they were in the dancing- 
 master's hands. Then her father led out his mother, 
 and vice versd. The bridegroom had no grandparents, 
 but the stately Earl handed forth his little active wiry 
 Countess, bowing over her with a grand stiff devotion 
 as genuine and earnest as at their wedding twenty 
 years previously, for the reconciliation had been com- 
 plete, and had restored all her ascendency over him. 
 Theirs, as Mistress Susan exultingly agreed with a 
 Hardwicke kinsman not seen for many years, was the 
 grandest and most featly of all the performances. All 
 the time each pair were performing, the others were 
 awaiting their turn, the ladies in rows on benches or 
 settles, the gentlemen sometimes standing before them, 
 sometimes sitting on cushions or steps at their feet, 
 sometimes handing them comfits of sugar or dried fruits. 
 
 The number of gentlemen was greatly in excess, 
 so that Humfrey had no such agreeable occupation, 
 but had to stand in a herd among other young men, 
 watching with no gratified eye Antony Babington, in a
 
 262 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 graceful attitude at Cicely's feet, while she conversed 
 with him with untiring animation. 
 
 Humfrey was not the only one to remark them. 
 Lady Shrewsbury nodded once or twice to herself, as 
 one who had discovered what she sought, and the next 
 morning a mandate arrived at Bridgefield that Master 
 Eichard and his wife should come to speak with my 
 Lady Countess. 
 
 Eichard and his son were out of reach, having 
 joined a party of the guests who had gone out hunting. 
 Susan had to go alone, for she wished to keep Cicely 
 as much as possible out of her Ladyship's sight, so she 
 left the girl in charge of her keys, so that if father 
 brought home any of the hunters to the midday meal, 
 tankards and glasses might not be lacking. 
 
 The Countess's summons was to her own bower, a 
 sort of dressing-room, within her great state bed-room, 
 and with a small glazed window looking down into the 
 great hall where her ladies sat at work, whence she 
 could on occasion call down orders or directions or 
 reproofs. Susan had known what it was to stand in 
 dread of such a window at Chatsworth or Hardwicke, 
 whence shrill shrieks of objurgation, followed sometimes 
 by such missiles as pincushions, shoes, or combs. How- 
 ever the window was now closed, and my Lady sat in 
 her arm-chair, as on a throne, a stool being set, to 
 which she motioned her kinswoman. 
 
 " So ! Susan Talbot," she said, " I have sent for you 
 to do you a good turn, for you are mine own kins- 
 woman of the Hardwicke blood, and have ever been 
 reasonably humble and dutiful towards me and my 
 Lord." 
 
 Mrs. Talbot did not by any means view this speech 
 as the insult it would in these days appear to a lady
 
 XIX.] THE CLASH OF SWORDS. 263 
 
 of her birth and position, but accepted it as the compli- 
 ment it was intended to be. 
 
 "Thus," continued Lady Shrewsbury, "I have 
 always cast about how to marry that daughter of yours 
 fitly. It would have been done ere now, had not that 
 Scottish woman's tongue made mischief between me 
 and my Lord, but I am come home to rule my own 
 house now, and mine own blood have the first claim 
 on me." 
 
 The alarm always excited by a summons to speak 
 with my Lady Countess began to acquire definite form, 
 and Susan made answer, "Your Ladyship is very 
 good, but I doubt me whether my husband desires to 
 bestow Cicely in marriage as yet." 
 
 " He hath surely received no marriage proposals for 
 her without my knowledge or my Lord's," said Bess 
 of Hardwicke, who was prepared to strain all feudal 
 claims to the uttermost. 
 
 " Xo, madam, but " 
 
 " Tell me not that you or he have the presumption 
 to think that my son "William Cavendish or even 
 Edward Talbot will ever cast an eye on a mere portion- 
 less country maid, not comely, nor even like the Hard- 
 wickes or the Talbots. If I thought so for a moment, 
 never shouldst thou darken these doors again, thou 
 ungrateful, treacherous woman." 
 
 " Xeither of us ever had the thought, far less the 
 wish," said Susan most sincerely. 
 
 "Well, thou wast ever a simple woman, Susan 
 Talbot," said the great lady, thereby meaning truthful, 
 " so I will e'en take thy word for it, the more readily 
 that I made contracts for both the lads when I was at 
 court. As to Dick Talbot not being fain to bestow her, 
 I trow that is because ye have spent too much on
 
 264 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAR 
 
 your long-legged sons to be able to lay down a portion 
 for her, though she be your only daughter. Anan ?" 
 
 For though this was quite true, Susan feeling that 
 it was not the whole truth, made but faint response. 
 However, the Countess went on, expecting to over- 
 power her with gratitude. " The gentleman I mean is 
 willing to take her in her smock, and moreover his 
 wardship and marriage were granted to my Lord by her 
 Majesty. Thou knowest whom I mean." 
 
 She wanted to hear a guess, and Susan actually 
 foreboded the truth, but was too full of dismay and 
 perplexity to do anything but shake her head as one 
 puzzled. 
 
 "What think'st thou of Mr. Babington ?" triumph- 
 antly exclaimed the Countess. 
 
 " Mr. Babington !" returned Susan. " But he is no 
 longer a ward !" 
 
 "No. We had granted his marriage to a little 
 niece of my Lord Treasurer's, but she died ere coming 
 to age. Then Tom Batcliffe's wife would have him for 
 her daughter, a mere babe. But for that thou and 
 thine husband have done good service while evil 
 tongues kept me absent, and because the wench comes 
 of our own blood, we are willing to bestow her upon 
 him, he showing himself willing and content, as befits 
 a lad bred in our own household." 
 
 "Madam, we are much beholden to you and my 
 Lord, but sure Mr. Babington is more inclined to the 
 old faith." 
 
 "Tush, woman, what of that? Thou mayst say 
 the same of half our Northern youth ! They think it 
 grand to dabble with seminary priests in hiding, and 
 talk big about their conscience and the like, but when 
 they've seen a neighbour or two pay down a heavy
 
 XIX.] THE CLASH OF SWORDS. 265 
 
 fine for recusancy, they think Letter of it, and a good 
 wife settles their brains to jog to church to hear the 
 parson with the rest of them." 
 
 " I fear me Cis is over young to settle any one's 
 mind," said Susan. 
 
 " She is seventeen if she is a day," said my Lady, 
 " and I was a wedded wife ere I saw my teens. 
 Moreover, I will say for thee, Susan, that thou hast 
 bred the girl as becomes one trained in my household, 
 and unless she have been spoiled by resort to the 
 Scottish woman, she is like to make the lad a moder- 
 ately good wife, having seen nought of the unthrifty 
 modes of the fine court dames, who queen it with 
 standing ruffs a foot high, and coloured with turmeric, so 
 please you, but who know no more how to bake a march- 
 pane, or roll puff paste, than yonder messan dog !" 
 
 " She is a good girl," said Susan, " but " 
 
 "What has the foolish wife to object now?" said 
 the Countess. " I tell you I marked them both last 
 eve, and though I seldom turn my mind to such follies, 
 I saw the plain tokens of love in every look and 
 gesture of the young springald. Xay. 'twas his coun- 
 tenance that put it into my mind, for I am even too 
 good - natured — over good - natured, Susan Talbot. 
 How now," at some sound below, springing to the little 
 window and flinging it back, " you lazy idle wenches 
 — what are you doing there ? Is my work to stand 
 still while you are toying with yon vile whelp ? He 
 is tangling the yarn, don't you see, thou purblind 
 Jane Dacre, with no eyes but for ogling. There ! 
 there ! Eound the leg of the chair, don't you see !" 
 and down flew a shoe, which made the poor dog howl, 
 and his mistress catch him up. " Put him down ! put 
 him down this instant ! Thomas ! Davy ! Here,
 
 266 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 hang him up, I say/' cried this over good-natured lady, 
 interspersing her commands with a volley of sixteenth 
 century Billingsgate, and ending by declaring that 
 nothing fared well without her, and hurrying off to 
 pounce down on the luckless damsels who had let 
 their dog play with the embroidery yarn destined to 
 emblazon the tapestry of Chatsworth with the achieve- 
 ments of Juno. The good nature was so far veritable 
 that when she found little harm done, and had vented 
 her wrath in strong language and boxes on the ear, 
 she would forget her sentence upon the poor little 
 greyhound, which Mrs. Jane Dacre had hastily con- 
 veyed out of sight during her transit downstairs. 
 Susan was thus, to her great relief, released for the 
 present, for guests came in before my Lady had fully 
 completed her objurgations on her ladies, the hour of 
 noon was nigh at hand, sounds in the court betokened 
 the return of the huntsmen, and Susan effected her 
 escape to her own sober old palfrey — glad that she 
 would at least be able to take counsel with her hus- 
 band on this most inconvenient proposition. 
 
 He came out to meet her at the court door, having 
 just dismounted, and she knew by his face that she 
 had not to give him the first intelligence of the diffi- 
 culty in which they stood. 
 
 My Lord had himself spoken to him, like my Lady 
 expecting him to be enchanted at the prospect of so 
 good a match for his slenderly-portioned daughter, for 
 Dethick was a fair estate, and the Babington family, 
 though not ennobled, fully equal to a younger branch 
 of the Talbots. However, Richard had had a less un- 
 comfortable task than his wife, since the Earl was many 
 degrees more reasonable than the Countess. He had 
 shown himself somewhat offended at not meeting more
 
 XIX.] THE CLASH OF SWORDS. 267 
 
 alacrity in the acceptance of his proposal, when Eichard 
 had objected on account of the young gentleman's 
 Popish proclivities ; but boldly declared that he was 
 quite certain that the stripling had been entirely cured. 
 
 This point of the narrative had just been reached 
 when it was interrupted by a scream, and Cicely came 
 Hying into the hall, crying, " father, father, stop 
 them ! Humfrey and Mr. Babirjgton ! They are 
 killing one another." 
 
 "AYhere?" exclaimed Eichard, catching up his 
 sword. 
 
 " In the Pleasance, father ! Oh, stop them ! They 
 will slay one another ! They had their swords ! " and 
 as the father was already gone, she threw herself into 
 the mother's arms, hid her face and sobbed with frig] it 
 as scarce became a princess for whom swords were for 
 the first time crossed. " Fear not ! Father will stop 
 them," said the mother, with confidence she could only 
 keep up outwardly by the inward cry, " God protect 
 my boy. Father will come ere they can hurt one 
 another." 
 
 "But how came it about?" she added, as with an 
 arm round the trembling girl, she moved anxiously for- 
 ward to know the issue. 
 
 " Oh ! I know not. 'Twas Humfrey fell on him. 
 Hark !" 
 
 " Tis father's voice," said Susan. " Thank God ! I 
 know by the sound no harm is done ! But how was 
 it, child r 
 
 Cis told with more coherence now, but the tears in 
 her eyes and colour deepening : " I was taking in 
 Humfrey's kerchiefs from the bleaching on the grass, 
 when Master Babington — he had brought me a plume 
 of pheasant's feathers from the hunting, and he began.
 
 268 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 mother, is it sooth ? He said my Lord had sent 
 him." 
 
 " That is true, my child, but you know we have no 
 choice but to refuse thee." 
 
 " Ay, mother, and Antony knows." 
 
 " Not thy true birth, child ?" 
 
 " Not that, but the other story. So he began to 
 say that if I were favourable — Mother, do men 
 always do like that?" Hiding her face against the 
 trusty breast, " And when I drew back, and said I 
 could not and would not hearken to such folly " 
 
 " That was well, dear child." 
 
 " He would have it that I should have to hear him, 
 and he went down on his knee, and snatched at my 
 hand. And therewith came a great howl of rage like 
 an angry lion, and Humfrey bounded right over the 
 sweetbrier fence, and cried out, ' Off, fellow ! No 
 Papist traitor knave shall meddle with her.' And 
 then Antony gave him back the lie for calling him 
 traitor, and they drew their swords, and I ran away to 
 call father, but oh ! mother, I heard them clash !" and 
 she shuddered again. 
 
 " See," said Susan, as they had reached the corner 
 of a thick screen of yew-trees, " all is safe. There they 
 stand, and father between them speaking to them. No, 
 we will not go nearer, since we know that it is well 
 with them. Men deal with each other better out of 
 women's earshot. Ah, see, there they are giving one 
 another their hands. All is over now." 
 
 " Humfrey stands tall, grave, and stiff ! He is only 
 doing it because father bids him," said Cicely. " An- 
 tony is much more willing." 
 
 " Poor Humfrey ! he knows better than Antony 
 how vain any hope must be of my silly little princess,"
 
 XIX.] THE CLASH OF SWOBDS. 269 
 
 said Susan, with a sigh for her boy. " Come in, child, 
 and set these locks in order. The hour of noon hath 
 long been over, and father hath not yet dined." 
 
 So they flitted out of sight as Eichard and his son 
 turned from the place of encounter, the former saying, 
 " Son Humfrey, I had deemed thee a wiser man." 
 
 " Sir, how could a man brook seeing that fellow on 
 his knee to her ? Is it not enough to be debarred from 
 my sweet princess myself, but I must see her beset by 
 a Papist and traitor, fostered and encouraged too?" 
 
 " And thou couldst not rest secure in the utter 
 impossibility of her being given to him ? He is as 
 much out of reach of her as thou art." 
 
 " He has secured my Lord and my Lady on his side !" 
 growled Humfrey. 
 
 " My Lord is not an Amurath, nor my Lady either," 
 said Eichard, shortly. "As long as I pass for her 
 father I have power to dispose of her, and I am not 
 going to give another woman's daughter away without 
 her consent." 
 
 " Yet the fellow may have her ear," said Humfrey. 
 " I know him to be popishly inclined, and there is a 
 web of those Eomish priests all over the island, whereof 
 this Queen holds the strands in her fingers, captive 
 though she be. I should not wonder if she had devised 
 this fellow's suit." 
 
 " This is the very madness of jealousy, Humfrey/' 
 said his father. " The whole matter was, as thy mother 
 and thy Lord have both told me, simply a device of my 
 Lady Countess's own brain." 
 
 " Babington took to it wondrous naturally," muttered 
 Humfrey. 
 
 " That may be ; but as for the lady at Wingfield, 
 her talk to our poor maid hath been all of archdukes
 
 270 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 and dukes. She is far too haughty to think for a 
 moment of giving her daughter to a mere Derbyshire 
 esquire, not even of noble blood. You may trust her 
 for that." 
 
 This pacified Humfrey for a little while, especially 
 as the bell was clanging for the meal which had been 
 unusually deferred, and he had to hurry away to remove 
 certain marks, which were happily the result of the 
 sweetbrier weapons instead of that of Babington. 
 
 That a little blood had been shed was shown by 
 the state of his sword point, but Antony had disclaimed 
 being hurt when the master of the house came up, and 
 in the heat of the rebuke the father and son had hardly 
 noticed that he had thrown a kerchief round his left 
 hand ere he moved away. 
 
 Before dinner was over, word was brought in from 
 the door that Master Will Cavendish wanted to speak 
 to Master Humfrey. The ladies' hearts were in their 
 mouths, as it were, lest it should be to deliver a cartel, 
 and they looked to the father to interfere, but he sat 
 still, contenting himself with saying, as his son craved 
 license to quit the board, " Use discretion as well as 
 honour." 
 
 They were glad that the next minute Humfrey came 
 back to call his father to the door, where Will Caven- 
 dish sat on horseback. He had come by desire of 
 Babington, who had fully intended that the encounter 
 should be kept secret, but some servant must have been 
 aware of it either from the garden or the park, and the 
 Countess had got wind of it. She had summoned 
 Babington to her presence, before the castle barber 
 had finished dealing with the cut in his hand, and 
 the messenger reported that " my Lady was in one of 
 her raging fits," and talked of throwing young Hum-
 
 XIX.] THE CLASH OF SWORDS. 2*71 
 
 frey into a dungeon, if not having him hung for his 
 insolence. 
 
 Babington, who had talked to his friends of a slip 
 with his hunting-knife while disembowelling a deer, 
 was forced to tell the fact in haste to Cavendish, the 
 nearest at hand, begging him to hurry down and advise 
 Humfrey to set forth at once if he did not wish his 
 journey to be unpleasantly delayed. 
 
 " My Lord is unwilling to cross my mother at the 
 present," said young Cavendish with half a smile ; " and 
 though it be not likely that much harm should come 
 of the matter, yet if she laid hands on Humfrey at the 
 present moment, there might be hindrance and vexa- 
 tion, so it may be well for him to set forth, in case 
 Tony be unable to persuade my Lady that it is nought." 
 
 Will Cavendish had been a friendly comrade of 
 both Humfrey and Antony in their boyish days, and 
 his warning was fully to be trusted. 
 
 " I know not why I should creep off as though I 
 had done aught that was evil," said Humfrey, drawing 
 himself up. 
 
 " Well," said Will, " my Lord is always wroth at 
 brawling with swords amongst us, and he might — my 
 mother egging him on — lay you by the heels in the 
 strong room for a week or so. Nay, for my part, me- 
 thinks 'twas a strange requital of poor Babington's 
 suit to your sister ! Had she been your love instead 
 of your sister there might have been plainer excuse, 
 but sure you wot not of aught against Tony to warrant 
 such heat." 
 
 " He was importuning her when she would have 
 none of him," said Humfrey, feeling the perplexity he 
 had drawn on himself. 
 
 " Will says well," added the father, feeling that it
 
 272 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAR 
 
 by all means behoved them all to avert inquiry into 
 the cause of Humfrey's passion, since neither Cicely's 
 birth nor Antony's perilous inclinations could be 
 pleaded. " To be detained a week or two might hin- 
 der thy voyage. So we will speed thee on thy way 
 instantly." 
 
 " Tell me not where he halts for the night," said 
 Cavendish significantly. " Fare thee well, Humfrey. I 
 would return ere I am missed. I trust thou wilt have 
 made the Spaniard's ships smoke, and weighted thy 
 pouch with his dollars, before we see thee again." 
 
 " Fare thee well, Will, and thank thee kindly," re- 
 turned Humfrey, as they wrung each other's hands. 
 " And tell Antony that I thank him heartily for his 
 thought, and owe him a good turn." 
 
 " That is well, my son," said Eichard, as Cavendish 
 rode out of the court. " Babington is both hot and 
 weak-headed, and I fear me is in the toils of the Scot- 
 tish lady ; but he would never do aught that he held 
 as disloyal by a comrade. I wish I could say the 
 same of him anent the Queen." 
 
 " And you will guard her from him, sir ? " earnestly 
 said Humfrey. 
 
 " As I would from — I would have said Frenchman 
 or Spaniard, but, poor maid, that may only be her hap, 
 if her mother should come to her throne again ; " and 
 as Humfrey shrugged his shoulders at the improbability, 
 " But we must see thee off, my boy. Poor mother ! 
 this hurries the parting for her. So best, mayhap." 
 
 It was hastily arranged that Humfrey should ride 
 off at once, and try to overtake a squire who had been 
 at the festival, and had invited him to turn a little out 
 of his road and spend a day or two at his house when 
 leaving home. Humfrey had then declined, but hos-
 
 XIX.] THE CLASH OF SWORDS. 273 
 
 pitality in those days was elastic, and he had no doubt 
 of a welcome. His father would bring Diccon and his 
 baggage to join him there the next day. 
 
 Thus there were only a very few minutes for adieux, 
 and, as Richard had felt, this was best for all, even the 
 anxious mother. Cicely ran about with the rest in the 
 stress of preparation, until Humfrey, hurrying upstairs, 
 met her coming down with a packet of his lace cuffs 
 in her hands. 
 
 He caught the hand on the balusters, and cried, 
 " My princess, my princess, and art thou doing this for 
 me?" 
 
 " Thou hast learnt fine compliments, Humfrey," said 
 Cis, trying to do her part with quivering lips. 
 
 " Ah, Cis ! thou knowest but too well what hath 
 taught me no fine words but plain truth. Fear me 
 not, I know what is due to thee. Cis, w T e never used 
 to believe the tales and ballads that told of knights 
 worshipping princesses beyond their reach, without a 
 hope of more than a look — not even daring to wish 
 for more ; Cis, it is very truth. Be thou where thou 
 wilt, with whom thou wilt, there will be one ready to 
 serve thee to the uttermost, and never ask aught — 
 aught but such remembrance as may befit the brother 
 of thy childhood " 
 
 " Mistress Cis," screamed one of the maids, " madam 
 is waiting for those cuffs." 
 
 Cis ran down, but the squeeze and kiss on the 
 hand remained, as it were, imprinted on it, far more 
 than the last kiss of all, which he gave, as both knew 
 and felt, to support his character as a brother before 
 the assembled household. 
 
 vol. I.
 
 274 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 CHAPTEE XX. 
 
 WINGFIELD MANOR. 
 
 The drawing of swords was not regarded as a heinous 
 offence in Elizabethan days. It was not likely, under 
 ordinary circumstances, to result in murder, and was 
 looked on much as boxing is, or was recently, in 
 public schools, as an evidence of high spirit, and a 
 means of working off ill-blood. 
 
 Lady Shrewsbury was, however, much incensed at 
 such a presumptuous reception of the suitor whom she 
 had backed with her would-be despotic influence; and 
 in spite of Babington's making extremely light of it, 
 and declaring that he had himself been too forward in 
 his suit, and the young lady's apparent fright had 
 made her brother interfere over hastily for her protec- 
 tion, four yeomen were despatched by her Ladyship 
 with orders instantly to bring back Master Humfrey 
 Talbot to answer for himself. 
 
 They were met by Mr. Talbot with the sober reply 
 that Master Humfrey was already set forth on his 
 journey. The men, having no orders, never thought 
 of pursuing him, and after a short interval Eichard 
 thought it expedient to proceed to the Manor-house to 
 explain matters. 
 
 The Countess swooped upon him in one of her
 
 XX.] WIXGFIELD MANOR. 275 
 
 ungovernable furies — one of those of which even 
 Gilbert Talbot avoided writing the particulars to his 
 father — abusing his whole household in general, and 
 his son in particular, in the most outrageous manner, 
 for thus receiving the favour she had done to their 
 beggarly, ill-favoured, ill-nurtured daughter. Eichard 
 stood still and grave, his hat in his hand, as unmoved 
 and tranquil as if he had been breasting a stiff breeze 
 on the deck of his ship, with good sea-room and con- 
 fidence in all his tackle, never even attempting to 
 open his lips, but looking at the Countess with a 
 steady gaze which somehow disconcerted her, for she 
 demanded wherefore he stared at her like one of his 
 clumsy hinds. 
 
 " Because her Ladyship does not know what she is 
 saying," he replied. 
 
 " Darest thou ! Thou traitor, thou viper, thou 
 unhanged rascal, thou mire under my feet, thou blot 
 on the house ! Darest thou beard me — me ?" screamed 
 my Lady. " Darest thou — I say " 
 
 If the sailor had looked one whit less calm and 
 resolute, my Lady would have had her clenched fist on 
 his ear, or her talons in his beard, but he was like a 
 rock against which the billows expended themselves, 
 and after more of the tempest than need stain these 
 pages, she deigned to demand what he meant or had 
 to say for his son. 
 
 " Solely this, madam, that my son had never even 
 heard of Babington's suit, far less that he had your 
 Ladyship's good-will. He found him kneeling to 
 Cicely in the garden, and the girl, distressed and dis- 
 mayed at his importunity. There were hot words and 
 drawn blades. That was the whole. I parted them 
 and saw them join hands."
 
 276 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 "So saith Master Babington. He is willing to 
 overlook the insult, so will I and my Lord, if you will 
 atone for it by instantly consenting to this espousal." 
 
 " That, madam, I cannot do." 
 
 She let him say no more, and the storm had begun 
 to rage again, when Babington took advantage of an 
 interval to take breath, and said, " I thank you, 
 madam, and pray you peace. If a little space be 
 vouchsafed me, I trust to show this worthy gentleman 
 cause wherefore he should no longer withhold his fair 
 damsel from me." 
 
 "Indeed!" said the Countess. "Art thou so con- 
 fident ? I marvel what better backer thou wouldst 
 have than me ! So conceited of themselves are young 
 men now-a-days, they think, forsooth, their own merits 
 and graces should go farther in mating them than the 
 word and will of their betters. There, you may go ! 
 I wash my hands of the matter. One is as ingrate as 
 the other." 
 
 Both gentlemen accepted this amiable dismissal, 
 each hoping that the Countess might indeed have 
 washed her hands of their affairs. On his departure 
 Eichard was summoned into the closet of the Earl, 
 who had carefully kept out of the way during the 
 uproar, only trusting not to be appealed to. " My 
 good cousin," he asked, "what means this broil be- 
 tween the lads ? Hath Babington spoken sooth ?" 
 
 " He hath spoken well and more generously than, 
 mayhap, I thought he would have done," said Eichard. 
 
 " Ay ; you have judged the poor youth somewhat 
 hardly, as if the folly of pagedom never were out- 
 grown," said the Earl. " I put him under governor- 
 ship such as to drive out of his silly pate all the wiles 
 that he was fed upon here. You will see him prove
 
 XX.] WINGFIELD MANOR. 277 
 
 liimself an honest Protestant and good subject yet, and 
 be glad enough to give him your daughter. So he was 
 too hot a lover for Master Humfrey's notions, eh ? " said 
 my Lord, laughing a little. " The varlet ! He was over 
 prompt to protect his sister, yet 'twas a fault on the 
 right side, and I am sorry there was such a noise about 
 it that he should have gone without leave-takings." 
 
 " He will be glad to hear of your Lordship's good- 
 ness. I shall go after him to-morrow and take his 
 mails and little Diccon to him." 
 
 " That is well," said the Earl. " And give him 
 this, with his kinsman's good wishes that he may win 
 ten times more from the Dod," pushing towards 
 Eichard a packet of twenty broad gold pieces, stamped 
 with Queen Bess in all her glory ; and then, after 
 receiving due thanks for the gift, which was meant half 
 as friendly feudal patronage from the head of the family, 
 half as a contribution to the royal service, the Earl 
 added, " I would crave of thee, Eichard, to extend thy 
 journey to Wingfield. Here are some accounts of which 
 I could not sooner get the items, to be discharged be- 
 tween me and the lady there — and I would fain send 
 thee as the man whom I can most entirely trust. I 
 will give thee a pass, and a letter to Sadler, bidding 
 him admit thee to her presence, since there are matters 
 here which can sooner be discharged by one word of 
 mouth than by many weary lines of writing." 
 
 Good Master Eichard's conscience had little occa- 
 sion to wince, yet he could not but feel somewhat 
 guilty when this opportune commission was given to 
 him, since the Earl gave it unaware of his secret 
 understanding with the captive. He accepted it, 
 however, without hesitation, since he was certainly 
 not going to make a mischievous use of it, and bent
 
 2*78 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 all his mind to "understand the complicated accounts 
 that he was to lay before the Queen or her comptroller 
 of the household. 
 
 He had still another interview to undergo with 
 Antony Babington, who overtook him on his way 
 home through the crackling leaves that strewed the 
 avenue, as the October twilight fell. His recent con- 
 duct towards Humfrey gave him a certain right to 
 friendly attention, though, as the frank-hearted mariner 
 said to himself, it was hard that a plain man, who 
 never told a lie, nor willingly had a concealment of his 
 own, should be involved in a many-sided secret like 
 this, a sort of web, where there was no knowing 
 whether straining the wrong strand might not amount 
 to a betrayal, all because he had rescued an infant, and 
 not at once proclaimed her an alien. 
 
 " Sir," said Antony, " if my impatience to accost the 
 maiden we wot of, when I saw her alone, had not mis- 
 led me, I should have sought you first to tell you that 
 no man knows better than I that my Lady Countess's 
 good will is not what is wanting to forward my suit." 
 
 " Knowing then that it is not in my power or right 
 to dispose of her, thine ardent wooing was out of place," 
 said Eichard. 
 
 " I own it, sir, though had I but had time I should 
 have let the maiden know that I sought her subject to 
 other approval, which I trust to obtain so as to satisfy 
 you." 
 
 " Young man," said Eichard, " listen to friendly 
 counsel, and meddle not in perilous matters. I ask 
 thee not whether Dethick hath any commerce with 
 Wingfield ; but I warn thee earnestly to eschew begin- 
 ning again that which caused the trouble of thy child- 
 hood. Thou mayst do it innocently, seeking the con-
 
 XX.] WINGFIELD MANOR. 279 
 
 sent of the lady to this courtship of thine ; but I tell 
 thee, as one who knows more of the matter than thou 
 canst, that thou wilt only meet with disappointment." 
 
 "Hath the Queen other schemes for her?" asked 
 Babington, anxiously; and Eichard, thinking of the 
 vista of possible archdukes, replied that she had; but 
 that he was not free to speak, though he replied to 
 Babington's half- uttered question that his son Humfrey 
 was by no means intended. 
 
 " Ah ! " cried Antony, " you give me hope, sir. I 
 will do her such service that she shall refuse me 
 nothing ! Sir ! do you mock me !" he added, with a 
 fierce change of note. 
 
 " My poor lad, I could not but laugh to think what 
 a simple plotter you are, and what fine service you will 
 render if thou utterest thy vows to the very last person 
 who should hear them ! Credit me, thou wast never 
 made for privy schemes and conspiracies, and a Queen 
 who can only be served by such, is no mistress for thee. 
 Thou wilt but run thine own neck into the noose, and 
 belike that of others." 
 
 . " That will I never do," quoth Antony. " I may 
 peril myself, but no others." 
 
 " Then the more you keep out of secrets the better. 
 Thou art too open-hearted and unguarded for them I 
 So speaks thy well-wisher, Antony, whose friendship 
 thou hast won by thine honourable conduct towards 
 my rash boy ; though I tell thee plainly, the maiden is 
 not for thee, whether as Scottish or English, Cis or Bride." 
 
 So they parted at the gate of the park, the younger 
 man full of hope and confidence, the elder full of 
 pitying misgiving. 
 
 He was too kind-hearted not to let Cicely know 
 that he should see her mother, or to refuse to take a
 
 280 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 billet for her, — a little formal note necessarily silent on 
 the matter at issue, since it had to be laid before the 
 Earl, who smiled at the scrupulous precaution, and let 
 it pass. 
 
 Thus the good father parted with Humfrey and 
 Diccon, rejoicing in his heart that they would fight 
 with open foes, instead of struggling with the meshes 
 of perplexity, which beset all concerned with Queen 
 Mary, and then he turned his horse's head towards 
 Wingfield Manor, a grand old castellated mansion of 
 the Talbots, considered by some to excel even Sheffield. 
 It stood high, on ground falling very steeply from the 
 walls on three sides, and on the south well fortified, 
 court within court, and each with a deep-arched and 
 portcullised gateway, with loopholed turrets on either 
 side, a porter's lodge, and yeomen guards. 
 
 Mr. Talbot had to give his name and quality, and 
 show his pass, at each of these gates, though they were 
 still guarded by Shrewsbury retainers, with the talbot 
 on their sleeves. He was, however, received with the 
 respect and courtesy due to a trusted kinsman of their 
 lord; and Sir Ealf Sadler, a thin, elderly, careworn 
 statesman, came to greet him at the door of the hall, 
 and would only have been glad could he have remained 
 a week, instead of for the single night he wished to 
 spend at Wingfield. 
 
 Sadler was one of Mary's most gentle and courteous 
 warders, and he spoke of her with much kindness, 
 regretting that her health had again begun to suffer 
 from the approach of winter, and far more from 
 disappointment. 
 
 The negotiation with Scotland on her behalf was 
 now known to have been abortive. James had fallen 
 into the hands of the faction most hostile to her, and
 
 XX.] WING FIELD MANOR. 281 
 
 though his mother still clung with desperate hope to 
 the trust that he, at least, was labouring on her behalf, 
 no one else believed that he cared for anything but his 
 own security, and even she had been forced to perceive 
 that her liberation was again adjourned. 
 
 " And what think you was her thought when she 
 found that road closed up ?" said Sir Ealf. " Why, for 
 her people ! Her gentlewoman, Mrs. Mowbray, hath, it 
 seems, been long betrothed." 
 
 "Ay, to Gilbert Curll, the long -backed Scotch 
 Secretary. They were to be wed at Stirling so soon as 
 she arrived there again." 
 
 " Yea ; but when she read the letter that overthrew 
 her hopes, what did she say but that ' her servants 
 must not grow gray-headed with waiting till she was 
 set free ' ! So she would have me make the case known 
 to Sir Parson, and we had them married in the parish 
 church two days since, they being both good Protestants." 
 
 "There is no doubt that her kindness of heart is 
 true," said Eicharcl. " The poor folk at Sheffield and 
 Ecclesfield will miss her plentiful almsgiving." 
 
 " Some say it ought to be hindered, for that it is 
 but a purchasing of friends to her cause," said Sadler ; 
 " but I have not the heart to check it, and what could 
 these of the meaner sort do to our Queen's prejudice ? 
 I take care that nothing goes among them that could 
 hide a billet, and that none of her people have private 
 speech with them, so no harm can ensue from her 
 bounty." 
 
 A message here came that the Queen was ready to 
 admit Mr. Talbot, and Eichard found himself in her 
 presence chamber, a larger and finer room than that in 
 the lodge at Sheffield, and with splendid tapestry 
 hangings and plenishings ; but the windows all looked
 
 282 UNKNOWN TO HISTOEY. [CHAP. 
 
 into the inner quadrangle, instead of on the expanse 
 of park, and thus, as Mary said, she felt more entirely 
 the prisoner. This, however, was not perceptible at 
 the time, for the autumn evening had closed in ; there 
 were two large fires burning, one at each end of the 
 room, and tall tapestry-covered screens and high-backed 
 settles were arranged so as to exclude the draughts 
 around the hearth, where Mary reclined on a couch- 
 like chair. She looked ill, and though she brightened 
 with her sweet smile to welcome her guest, there 
 were dark circles round her eyes, and an air of de- 
 jection in her whole appearance. She held out her 
 hand graciously, as Eichard approached, closely fol- 
 lowed by his host ; he put his knee to the ground 
 and kissed it, as she said, "You must pardon me, 
 Mr. Talbot, for discourtesy, if I am less agile than 
 when we were at Buxton. You see my old foe lies in 
 wait to plague me with aches and pains so soon as the 
 year declines." 
 
 " I am sorry to see your Grace thus," returned 
 Eichard, standing on the step. 
 
 " The while I am glad to see you thus well, sir. 
 And how does the good lady, your wife, and my sweet 
 playfellow, your daughter ?" 
 
 " Well, madam, I thank your Grace, and Cicely has 
 presumed to send a billet by mine hand." 
 
 " Ah ! the dear bairnie," and all the Queen's con- 
 summate art could not repress the smile of gladness 
 and the movement of eager joy with which she held out 
 her hand for it, so that Eichard regretted its extreme 
 brevity and unsatisfying nature, and Mary, recollecting 
 herself in a second, added, smiling at Sadler, * Mr. 
 Talbot knows how a poor prisoner must love the pretty 
 playfellows that are lent to her for a time."
 
 XX.] WINGFEELD MAXOE. 283 
 
 Sir Half's presence hindered any more intimate 
 conversation, and Richard had certainly committed a 
 solecism in giving Cicely's letter the precedence over 
 the Earl's. The Queen, however, had recalled her 
 caution, and inquired for the health of the Lord and 
 Lady, and, with a certain sarcasm on her lips, trusted 
 that the peace of the family was complete, and that 
 they were once more setting Hallamshire the example 
 of living together as household doves. 
 
 Her hazel eyes meantime archly scanned the face 
 of Richard, who could not quite forget the very un- 
 dovelike treatment he had received, though he could 
 and did sturdily aver that " my Lord and my Lady were 
 perfectly reconciled, and seemed most happy in their 
 reunion." 
 
 \Yell-a-day, let us trust that there will be no 
 further disturbances to their harmony," said Mary, " a 
 prayer I may utter most sincerely. Is the little 
 Arbell come back with them ? " 
 
 "Yea, madam." 
 
 " And is she installed in my former rooms, with the 
 canopy over her cradle to befit her strain of royalty ? " 
 
 " I think not, madam. Meseems that my Lady 
 Countess hath seen reason to be heedful on that score. 
 My young lady hath come back with a grave goicvernante, 
 who makes her read her primer and sew her seam, and 
 save that she sat next my Lady at the wedding feast 
 there is little difference made between her and the 
 other grandchildren." 
 
 The Queen then inquired into the circumstances of 
 the wedding festivities with the interest of one to 
 whom most of the parties were more or less known, 
 and who seldom had the treat of a little feminine 
 gossip. She asked who had been " her little Cis's
 
 284 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 partner/' and when she heard of Babington, she said, 
 " Ah ha, then, the poor youth has made his peace with 
 my Lord ? " 
 
 " Certes, madam, he is regarded with high favour 
 by both my Lord and my Lady," said Eichard, heartily 
 wishing himself rid of his host. 
 
 " I rejoice to hear it," said Mary ; " I was afraid 
 that his childish knight-errantry towards the captive 
 dame had damaged the poor stripling's prospects for 
 ever. He is our neighbour here, and I believe Sir 
 Ealf regards him as somewhat perilous." 
 
 " Nay, madam, if my Lord of Shrewsbury be satis- 
 fied with him, so surely ought I to be," said Sir Ealf. 
 
 Nothing more of importance passed that night. 
 The packet of accounts was handed over to Sir 
 Andrew Melville, and the two gentlemen dismissed 
 with gracious good-nights. 
 
 Eichard Talbot was entirely trusted, and when the 
 next morning after prayers, breakfast, and a turn among 
 the stables, it was intimated that the Queen was ready 
 to see him anent my Lord's business, Sir Ealf Sadler, 
 who had his week's report to write to the Council, 
 requested that his presence might be dispensed with, 
 and thus Mr. Talbot was ushered into the Queen's closet 
 without any witnesses to their interview save Sir 
 Andrew Melville and Marie de Courcelles. The 
 Queen was seated in a large chair, leaning against 
 cushions, and evidently in a good deal of pain, but, as 
 Eichard made his obeisance, her eyes shone as she 
 quoted two lines from an old Scotch ballad — 
 
 " ' Madame, how does my gay goss hawk 1 
 Madame, how does my doo ? ' 
 
 Now can I hear what I hunger for ! "
 
 XX.] WING FIELD MAN01I. 285 
 
 •• My gay gosshawk, madam, is flown to join Sir 
 Francis Drake at Plymouth, and taken his little 
 brother with him. I come now from speeding them 
 as far as Derby." 
 
 " Ah ! you must not ask me to pray for success to 
 them, my good sir, — only that there may be a time 
 when nations may be no more divided, and I fear me 
 we shall not live to see it. And my doo — my little 
 Cis, did she weep as became a sister for the bold 
 laddies ? " 
 
 " She wept many tears, madam, but we are sore 
 perplexed by a matter that I must lay before your 
 Grace. My Lady Countess is hotly bent on a match 
 between the maiden and young Babington." 
 
 " Babington ! " exclaimed the Queen, with the 
 lioness sparkle in her eye. " You refused the fellow 
 of course ? " 
 
 " Flatly, madam, but your Grace knows that it is 
 ill making the Countess accept a denial of her will." 
 
 Mary laughed " Ah ha ! methought, sir, you looked 
 somewhat as if you had had a recent taste of my Lord 
 of Shrewsbury's dove. But you are a man to hold 
 your own sturdy will, Master Eichard, let Lord or 
 Lady say what they choose." 
 
 " I trust so, madam, I am master of mine own 
 house, and, as I should certainly not give mine own 
 daughter to Babington, so shall I guard your Grace's." 
 
 " You would not give the child to him if she were 
 your own ? " 
 
 " No, madam." 
 
 " And wherefore not ? Because he is too much 
 inclined to the poor prisoner and her faith ? Is it so, 
 sir ? " 
 
 " Your Grace speaks the truth in part," said Eichard,
 
 286 UNKNOWN TO HISTOKY. [CHA1\ 
 
 and then with effort added, " and likewise, madam, 
 with your pardon, I would say that though I verily 
 believe it is nobleness of heart and spirit that 
 inclines poor Antony to espouse your Grace's cause, 
 there is to my mind a shallowness and indiscretion 
 about his nature, even when most in earnest, such as 
 would make me loath to commit any woman, or any 
 secret, to his charge." 
 
 " You are an honest man, Mr. Talbot," said 
 Mary ; "1 am glad my poor maid is in your charge. 
 Tell me, is this suit on his part made to your 
 daughter or to the Scottish orphan ? " 
 
 " To the Scottish orphan, madam. Thus much he 
 knows, though by what means I cannot tell, unless 
 it be through that kinsman of mine, who, as I 
 told your Grace, saw the babe the night I brought 
 her in." 
 
 " Doubtless," responded Mary. " Take care he 
 neither knows more, nor hints what he doth know to 
 the Countess." 
 
 " So far as I can, I will, madam," said Eichard, 
 " but his tongue is not easy to silence ; I marvel that 
 he hath not let the secret ooze out already." 
 
 " Proving him to have more discretion than you 
 gave him credit for, my good sir," said the Queen, 
 smiling. " Eefuse him, however, staunchly, grounding 
 your refusal, if it so please you, on the very causes 
 for which I should accept him, were the lassie verily 
 what he deems her, my ward and kinswoman. Nor 
 do you accede to him, whatever word or token he may 
 declare that he brings from me, unless it bear this mark," 
 and she hastily traced a peculiar-twisted form of M. 
 " You know it ? " she asked. 
 
 " I have seen it, madam," said Eichard, gravely,
 
 XX.] WINGFULD MANOB. 287 
 
 for he knew it as the letter which had been traced on 
 the child's shoulders. 
 
 " Ah, good Master Richard," she said, with a sweet 
 and wistful expression, looking up to his face in plead- 
 ing, and changing to the familiar pronoun, " thou likest 
 not my charge, and I know that it is hard on an up- 
 right man like thee to have all this dissembling thrust 
 on thee, but what can a poor captive mother do but 
 strive to save her child from an unworthy lot, or from 
 captivity like her own ? I ask thee to say nought, 
 that is all, and to shelter the maid, who hath been as 
 thine own daughter, yet a little longer. Thou wilt not 
 deny me, for her sake." 
 
 " Madam, I deny nothing that a Christian man and 
 my Queen's faithful servant may in honour do. Your 
 Grace has the right to choose your own daughter's lot, 
 and with her I will deal as you direct me. But, 
 madam, were it not well to bethink yourself whether 
 it be not a perilous and a cruel policy to hold out a 
 bait to nourish hope in order to bind to your service a 
 foolish though a generous youth, whose devotion may, 
 after all, work you and himself more ill than good ? " 
 
 Mary looked a good deal struck, and waved back 
 her two attendants, who were both startled and offended 
 at what Marie de Courcelles described as the English- 
 man's brutal boldness. 
 
 " Silence, dear friends," said she. " Would that I 
 had always had counsellors who would deal with me 
 with such honour and disinterestedness. Then should 
 I not be here." 
 
 However, she then turned her attention to the 
 accounts, where Sir Andrew Melville was ready to 
 question and debate every item set down by Shrews- 
 bury's steward ; while his mistress showed herself
 
 288 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 liberal and open-handed. Indeed she had considerable 
 command of money from her French dowry, the proceeds 
 of which were, in spite of the troubles of the League, 
 regularly paid to her, and no doubt served her well in 
 maintaining the correspondence which, throughout her 
 captivity, eluded the vigilance of her keepers. On 
 taking leave of her, which Eichard Talbot did before 
 joining his host at the mid-clay meal, she reiterated her 
 thanks for his care of her daughter, and her charges to 
 let no persuasion induce him to consent to Babington's 
 overtures, adding that she hoped soon to obtain per- 
 mission to have the maiden amongst her authorised 
 attendants. She gave him a billet, loosely tied with 
 black floss silk and unsealed, so that if needful, Sadler 
 and Shrewsbury might both inspect the tender, playful, 
 messages she wrote to her " mignonne" and which she 
 took care should not outrun those which she had often 
 addressed to Bessie Pierrepoint. 
 
 Cicely was a little disappointed when she first 
 opened the letter, but ere long she bethought herself 
 of the directions she had received to hold such notes 
 to the fire, and accordingly she watched, waiting even 
 till the next day before she could have free and soli- 
 tary access to either of the two fires in the house, 
 those in the hall and in the kitchen. 
 
 At last, while the master was out farming, Ned at 
 school, and the mistress and all her maids engaged in 
 the unsavoury occupation of making candles, by re- 
 peated dipping of rushes into a caldron of melted 
 fat, after the winter's salting, she escaped under pre- 
 text of attending to the hall fire, and kneeling beside 
 the glowing embers, she held the paper over it, and soon 
 saw pale yellow characters appear and deepen into a sort 
 of brown or green, in which she read, " My little jewel
 
 XX.] WIXGFIELD MANOK. 289 
 
 must share the ring with none less precious. Yet be 
 not amazed if commendations as from me be brought 
 thee. Jewels are sometimes useful to dazzle the eyes 
 of those who shall never possess them. Therefore 
 seem not cold nor over coy, so as to take away all 
 hope. It may be much for my service. Thou art 
 discreet, and thy good guardians will hinder all from 
 going too far. It might be well that he should deem 
 thee and me inclined to what they oppose. Be secret. 
 Keep thine own counsel, and let them not even guess 
 what thou hast here read. So fare thee well, with 
 my longing, yearning blessing." 
 
 Cicely hastily hid the letter in the large house- 
 wifely pocket attached to her girdle, feeling excited 
 and important at having a real secret unguessed by 
 any one, and yet experiencing some of the reluctance 
 natural to the pupil of Susan Talbot at the notion of 
 acting a part towards Babington. She really liked 
 him, and her heart warmed to him as a true friend of 
 her much-injured mother, so that it seemed the more 
 cruel to delude him with false hopes. Yet here was 
 she asked to do a real service to her mother ! 
 
 Poor Cis, she knelt gazing perplexed into the 
 embers, now and then touching a stick to make them 
 glow, till Xat,the chief of "the old blue bottles of serving- 
 men," came in to lay the cloth for dinner, exclaiming, 
 " So, Mistress Cis ! Madam doth cocker thee truly, 
 letting thee dream over the coals, till thy face be as 
 red as my Lady's new farthingale, while she is toiling 
 away like a very scullion." 
 
 vol. r.
 
 290 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 A TANGLE. 
 
 It was a rainy November afternoon. Dinner was over, 
 the great wood fire had been made up, and Mistress 
 Talbot was presiding over the womenfolk of her house- 
 hold and their tasks with needle and distaff. She 
 had laid hands on her unwilling son Edward to show 
 his father how well he could read the piece de resistance 
 of the family, Fabyan's Chronicle ; and the boy, with 
 an elbow firmly planted on either side of the great folio, 
 was floundering through the miseries of King Stephen's 
 time ; while Mr. Talbot, after smoothing the head 
 of his largest hound for some minutes, had leant back 
 in his chair and dropped asleep. Cicely's hand tardily 
 drew out her thread, her spindle scarcely balanced itself 
 on the floor, and her maiden meditation was in an in- 
 active sort of way occupied with the sense of dulness 
 after the summer excitements, and wonder whether her 
 greatness were all a dream, and anything would happen 
 to recall her once more to be a princess. The kitten at 
 her feet took the spindle for a lazily moving creature, 
 and thought herself fascinating it, so she stared hard, 
 with only an occasional whisk of the end of her striped 
 tail ; and Mistress Susan was only kept awake by her 
 anxiety to adapt Diccon's last year's jerkin to Ned's use.
 
 XXI. ] A TAXGLE. 291 
 
 Suddenly the dogs outside bayed, the dogs inside 
 pricked their ears, Ned joyfully halted, his father uttered 
 the unconscious falsehood, " I'm not asleep, lad, go on," 
 then woke up as horses' feet were heard ; Ned dashed 
 out into the porch, and was in time to hold the horse 
 of one of the two gentlemen, who, with cloaks over their 
 heads, had ridden up to the door. He helped them 
 off with their cloaks in the porch, exchanging greetings 
 with William Cavendish and Antony Babington. 
 
 " Will Mrs. Talbot pardon our riding-boots V* said 
 the former. " We have only come down from the 
 Manor-house, and we rode mostly on the grass." 
 
 Their excuses were accepted, though Susan had 
 rather Master William had brought any other com- 
 panion. However, on such an afternoon, almost any 
 variety was welcome, especially to the younger folk, 
 and room was made for them in the circle, and accord- 
 ing to the hospitality of the time, a cup of canary 
 fetched for each to warm him after the ride, while 
 another was brought to the master of the house to 
 pledge them in — a relic of the barbarous ages, when 
 such a security was needed that the beverage was not 
 poisoned. 
 
 Will Cavendish then explained that a post had 
 come that morning to his stepfather from Wingfield, 
 having been joined on the way by Babington (people 
 always preferred travelling in companies for security's 
 sake), and that, as there was a packet from Sir Balf 
 Sadler for Master Richard, he had brought it down, 
 accompanied by his friend, who was anxious to pay his 
 devoirs to the ladies, and though Will spoke to the 
 mother, he smiled and nodded comprehension at the 
 daughter, who blushed furiously, and set her spindle 
 to twirl and leap so violently, as to make the kitten
 
 292 UNKNOWN TO HISTOEY. [CHAP. 
 
 believe the creature had taken fright, and was going to 
 escape. On she dashed with a sudden spring, in- 
 volving herself and it in the flax. The old watch-dog 
 roused himself with a growl to keep order, Cicely flung 
 herself on the cat, Antony hurried to the rescue to 
 help her disentangle it, and received a fierce scratch 
 for his pains, which made him start back, while Mrs. 
 Talbot put in her word. " Ah, Master Babington, it is 
 ill meddling with a cat in the toils, specially for men 
 folk ! Here, Cis, hold her fast and I will soon have 
 her free. Still, Tib ! 
 
 Cicely's cheeks were of a still deeper colour as she 
 held fast the mischievous favourite, while the good 
 mother untwisted the flax from its little claws and 
 supple limbs, while it winked, twisted its head about 
 sentimentally, purred, and altogether wore an air of 
 injured innocence and forgiveness. 
 
 " I am afraid, sir, you receive nothing but damage 
 at our house," said Mrs. Talbot politely. " Hast drawn 
 blood ? Oh fie ! thou ill-mannered Tib ! Will you 
 have a tuft from a beaver to stop the blood ? " 
 
 " Thanks, madam, no, it is a small scratch. T 
 would, I would that I could face truer perils for this 
 lady's sake ! " 
 
 " That I hope you will not, sir," said Eichard, in a 
 serious tone, which conveyed a meaning to the ears of 
 the initiated, though Will Cavendish only laughed, and 
 said, 
 
 " Our kinsman takes it gravely ! It was in the 
 days of our grandfathers that ladies could throw a 
 glove among the lions, and bid a knight fetch it out 
 for her love." 
 
 " It has not needed a lion to defeat Mr. Babington," 
 observed Ned, looking up from his book with a sober
 
 XXI.] A TAXGLE. 293 
 
 twinkle in his eye, which set them all laughing, though 
 his father declared that he ought to have his ears 
 boxed for a malapert varlet. 
 
 Will Cavendish declared that the least the fair 
 damsel could do for her knight-errant was to bind up 
 his wounds, but Cis was too shy to show any disposi- 
 tion so to do, and it was Mrs. Talbot who salved the 
 scratch for him. She had a feeling for the motherless 
 youth, upon whom she foreboded that a fatal game 
 might be played. 
 
 "When quiet was restored, Mr. Talbot craved license 
 from his guests, and opened the packet. There was a 
 letter for Mistress Cicely Talbot in Queen Mary's well- 
 known beautiful hand, which Antony followed with 
 eager eyes, and a low gasp of "Ah ! favoured maiden," 
 making the good mother, who overheard it, say to her- 
 self, " Methinks his love is chiefly for the maid as 
 something appertaining to the Queen, though he wots 
 not how nearly. His heart is most for the Queen her- 
 self, poor lad." 
 
 The maiden did not show any great haste to open 
 the letter, being aware that the true gist of it could 
 only be discovered in private, and her father was 
 studying his own likewise in silence. It was from 
 Sir Ealf Sadler to request that Mistress Cicely might 
 be permitted to become a regular member of the house- 
 hold. There was now a vacancy since, though Mrs. 
 Curll was nearly as much about the Queen as ever, it 
 was as the secretary's wife, not as one of the maiden 
 attendants ; and Sir Ealf wrote that he wished the more 
 to profit by the opportunity, as he might soon be dis- 
 placed by some one not of a temper greatly to consider 
 the prisoner's wishes. Moreover, he said the poor lady 
 was ill at ease, and much dejected at the tenor of
 
 294 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 her late letters from Scotland, and that she had said 
 repeatedly that nothing would do her good but the 
 presence of her pretty playfellow. Sir Ealf added 
 assurances that he would watch over the maiden like 
 his own daughter, and would take the utmost care 
 of the faith and good order of all within his house- 
 hold. Curll also wrote by order of his mistress a formal 
 application for the young lady, to which Mary had 
 added in her own hand, " I thank the good Master 
 Eichard and Mrs. Susan beforehand, for I know they 
 will not deny me." 
 
 Eefusal was, of course, impossible to a mother who 
 had every right to claim her own child ; and there was 
 nothing to be done but to fix the time for setting off : 
 and Cicely, who had by this time read her own letter, 
 or at least all that was on the surface, looked up trem- 
 ulous, with a strange frightened gladness, and said, 
 " Mother, she needs me." 
 
 " I shall shortly be returning home," said Antony, 
 " and shall much rejoice if I may be one of the party 
 who will escort this fair maiden." 
 
 " I shall take my daughter myself on a pillion, sir," 
 said Eichard, shortly. 
 
 " Then, sir, I may tell my Lord that you purpose to 
 grant this request," said Will Cavendish, who had ex- 
 pected at least some time to- be asked for deliberation, 
 and knew his mother would expect her permission to 
 be requested. 
 
 " I may not choose but do so," replied Eichard ; and 
 then, thinking he might have said too much, he added, 
 * It were sheer cruelty to deny any solace to the poor 
 lady." 
 
 " Sick and in prison, and balked by her only son," 
 added Susan, " one's heart cannot but ache for her."
 
 XXI.] A TANGLE. 295 
 
 " Let not Mr. Secretary Walsingham hear you say 
 so, good madam," said Cavendish, smiling. In Lon- 
 don they think of her solely as a kind of malicious 
 fury shut up in a cage, and there were those who looked 
 askance at me when I declared that she was a gentle- 
 woman of great sweetness and kindness of demeanour. 
 I believe myself they will not rest till they have her 
 blood ! " 
 
 Cis and Susan cried out with horror, and Babington 
 with stammering wrath demanded whether she was to be 
 assassinated in the Spanish fashion, or on what pretext 
 a charge could be brought against her. " Well," Caven- 
 dish answered, " as the saying is, give her rope enough, 
 and she will hang herself." Indeed, there's no doubt 
 but that she tampered enough with Throckmorton's 
 plot to have been convicted of misprision of treason, 
 and so she would have been, but that her most sacred 
 Majesty, Queen Elizabeth, would have no charge made 
 against her. 
 
 " Treason from one sovereign to another, that is new 
 law !" said Babington. 
 
 " So to speak," said Eichard ; " but if she claim to 
 be heiress to the crown, she must also be a subject. 
 Heaven forefend that she should come to the throne !" 
 
 To which all except Cis and Babington uttered a 
 hearty amen, while a picture arose before the girl of 
 herself standing beside her royal mother robed in velvet 
 and ermine on the throne, and of the faces of Lady 
 Shrewsbury and her daughter as they recognised her, 
 and were pardoned. 
 
 Cavendish presently took his leave, and carried the 
 unwilling Babington off with him, rightly divining that 
 the family would wish to make their arrangements 
 alone. To Eichard's relief, Babington had brought
 
 296 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 him no private message, and to Cicely's disappoint- 
 ment, there was no addition in sympathetic ink to her 
 letter, thongh she scorched the paper brown in trying 
 to bring one out. The Scottish Queen was much too 
 wary to waste and risk her secret expedients without 
 necessity. 
 
 To Eichard and Susan this was the real resignation 
 of their foster-child into the hands of her own parent. 
 It was true that she would still bear their name, and 
 pass for their daughter, but that would be only so long 
 as it might suit her mother's convenience ; and instead 
 of seeing her every day, and enjoying her full con- 
 fidence (so far as they knew), she would be out of 
 reach, and given up to influences, both moral and 
 religious, which they deeply distrusted ; also to a fate 
 looming in the future with all the dark uncertainty 
 that brooded over all connected with Tudor or Stewart 
 royalty. 
 
 How much good Susan wept and prayed that night, 
 only her pillow knew, not even her husband ; and there 
 was no particular comfort when my Lady Countess 
 descended on her in the first interval of fine weather, 
 full of wrath at not having been consulted, and dis- 
 charging it in all sorts of predictions as to Cis's future. 
 No honest and loyal husband would have her, after 
 being turned loose in such company; she would be 
 corrupted in morals and manners, and a disgrace to the 
 Talbots; she would be perverted in faith, become a 
 Papist, and die in a nunnery beyond sea ; or she would 
 be led into plots and have her head cut off; or pressed 
 to death by the peine forte et dure. 
 
 Susan had nothing to say to all this, but that her 
 husband thought it right, and then had a little vigor- 
 ous advice on her own score against tamely submitting
 
 XXI.] A TANGLE. 297 
 
 to any man, a weakness which certainly could not be 
 laid to the charge of the termagant of Hardwicke. 
 
 Cicely herself was glad to go. She loved her 
 mother with a romantic enthusiastic affection, missed 
 her engaging caresses, and felt her Bridgefield home 
 eminently dull, flat, and even severe, especially since 
 she had lost the excitement of Humfrey's presence, 
 and likewise her companion Diccon. So she made her 
 preparations with a joyful alacrity, which secretly 
 pained her good foster-parents, and made Susan almost 
 ready to reproach her with ingratitude. 
 
 They lectured her, after the fashion of the time, on 
 the need of never forgetting her duty to her God in 
 her affection to her mother, Susan trusting that she 
 would never let herself be led away to the Eomish 
 faith, and Eichard warning her strongly against untruth 
 and falsehood, though she must be exposed to cruel 
 perplexities as to the right — " But if thou be true to 
 man, thou wilt be true to God," he said. " If thou be 
 false to man, thou wilt soon be false to thy God like- 
 wise." 
 
 " We will pray for thee, child," said Susan. " Do 
 thou pray earnestly for thyself that thou mayest ever 
 see the right." 
 
 " My queen mother is a right pious woman. She 
 is ever praying and reading holy books," said Cis. 
 " Mother Susan, I marvel you, who know her, can speak 
 thus." 
 
 " Nay, child, I would not lessen thy love and duty 
 to her, poor soul, but it is not even piety in a mother 
 that can keep a maiden from temptation. I blame not 
 her in warning thee." 
 
 Eichard himself escorted the damsel to her new 
 home. There was no preventing their being joined by
 
 298 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 Babington, who, being well acquainted with the road, 
 and being also known as a gentleman of good estate, 
 was able to do much to make their journey easy to 
 them, and secure good accommodation for them at the 
 inns, though Mr. Talbot entirely baffled his attempts to 
 make them his guests, and insisted on bearing a full 
 share of the reckoning. Neither did Cicely fulfil her 
 mother's commission to show herself inclined to accept 
 his attentions. If she had been under contrary orders, 
 there would have been some excitement in going as far 
 as she durst, but the only effect on her was embarrass- 
 ment, and she treated Antony with the same shy stiff- 
 ness she had shown to Humfrey, during the earlier part 
 of his residence at home. Besides, she clung more 
 and more to her adopted father, who, now that they 
 were away from home and he was about to part with 
 her, treated her with a tender, chivalrous deference, 
 most winning in itself, and making her feel herself no 
 longer a child. 
 
 Arriving at last at Wingfield, Sir Balf Sadler had 
 hardly greeted them before a messenger was sent to 
 summon the young lady to the presence of the Queen 
 of Scots. Her welcome amounted to ecstasy. The 
 Queen rose from her cushioned invalid chair as the 
 bright young face appeared at the door, held out her 
 arms, gathered her into them, and, covering her with 
 kisses, called her by all sorts of tender names in French 
 and Scottish. 
 
 " ma mie, my lassie, ma fille, mine ain wee thing, 
 how sweet to have one bairn who is mine, mine ain, 
 whom they have not robbed me of, for thy brother, 
 ah, thy brother, he hath forsaken me ! He is made of 
 the false Darnley stuff, and compacted by Knox and 
 Buchanan and the rest, and he will not stand a blast
 
 XXI.] A TANGLE. 299 
 
 of Queen Elizabeth's wrath for the poor mother that 
 bore him. Ay, he hath betrayed me, and deluded 
 me, my child ; he hath sold me once more to the 
 English loons ! I am set faster in prison than ever, 
 the iron entereth into my soul. Thou art but daughter 
 to a captive queen, who looks to thee to be her one 
 bairn, one comfort and solace." 
 
 Cicely responded by caresses, and indeed felt her- 
 self more than ever before the actual daughter, as she 
 heard with indignation of James's desertion of his 
 mother's cause ; but Mary, whatever she said herself, 
 would not brook to hear her speak severely of him. 
 " The poor laddie," she said, " he was no better than 
 a prisoner among those dour Scots lords," and she de- 
 scribed in graphic terms some of her own experiences 
 of royalty in Scotland. 
 
 The other ladies all welcomed the new-comer as 
 the best medicine both to the spirit and body of their 
 Queen. She was regularly enrolled among the Queen's 
 maidens, and shared their meals. Mary dined and 
 supped alone, sixteen dishes being served to her, both 
 on " fish and flesh days," and the reversion of these as 
 well as a provision of their own came to the higher 
 table of her attendants, where Cicely ranked with the 
 two Maries, Jean Kennedy, and Sir Andrew Melville. 
 There was a second table, at which ate the two secre- 
 taries, Mrs. Curll, and Elizabeth Curll, Gilbert's sister, 
 a most faithful attendant on the Queen. As before, 
 she shared the Queen's chamber, and there it was that 
 Alary asked her, " Well, mignonne, and how fares it 
 with thine ardent suitor ? Didst say that he rode 
 with thee?" 
 
 " As far as the Manor gates, madam." 
 
 " And what said he ? Was he very pressing ? 5 '
 
 300 UNKNOWN TO HISTOEY. [CHAP. 
 
 "Nay, madam, I was ever with my father — Mr. 
 Talbot." 
 
 "And he keeps the poor youth at arm's length. 
 Thine other swain, the sailor, his son, is gone off once 
 more to rob the Spaniards, is he not ? — so there is the 
 more open field." 
 
 " Ay ! but not till he had taught Antony a lesson." 
 
 The Queen made Cis tell the story of the en- 
 counter, at which she was much amused. "So my 
 princess, even unknown, can make hearts beat and 
 swords ring for her. Well done ! thou art worthy 
 to be one of the maids in Perceforest or Amadis de 
 Gaul, who are bred in obscurity, and set all the knights 
 a sparring together. Tourneys are gone out since my 
 poor gude-father perished by mischance at one, or we 
 would set thee aloft to be contended for." 
 
 " madame m&re, it made me greatly afraid, and 
 poor Humfrey had to go off without leave-taking, my 
 Lady Countess was so wrathful." 
 
 " So my Lady Countess is playing our game, is she ! 
 Backing Babington and banishing Talbot ? Ha, ha," 
 and Mary again laughed with a merriment that rejoiced 
 the faithful ears of Jean Kennedy, under her bed- 
 clothes, but somewhat vexed Cicely. " Indeed, madam 
 mother," she said, " if I must wed under my degree, I 
 had rather it were Humfrey than Antony Babington." 
 
 " I tell thee, simple child, thou shalt wed neither. 
 A woman does not wed every man to whom she gives 
 a smile and a nod. So long as thou bear'st the name 
 of this Talbot, he is a good watch-dog to hinder Bab- 
 ington from winning thee : but if my Lady Countess 
 choose to send the swain here, favoured by her to pay 
 his court to thee, -why then, she gives us the best 
 chance we have had for many a long day of holding
 
 XXI.] A TAXGLE. 301 
 
 intercourse with our friends without, and a hope of 
 thee will bind him the more closely." 
 
 " He is all yours, heart and soul, already, madam." 
 
 " I know it, child, but men are men, and no chains 
 are so strong as can be forged by a lady's lip and eye, if 
 she do it cunningly. So said my telle mere in France, 
 and well do I believe it. Why, if one of the sour- 
 visaged reformers who haunt this place chanced to 
 have a daughter with sweetness enough to temper the 
 acidity, the youth might be throwing up his cap the 
 next hour for Queen Bess and the Eeformation, unless 
 we can tie him down with a silken cable while he is 
 in the mind." 
 
 " Yea, madam, you who are beautiful and winsome, 
 you can do such things, I am homely and awkward." 
 
 " Jlort cle ma vie, child ! the beauty of the best of 
 us is in the man's eyes who looks at us. 'Tis true, 
 thou hast more of the Border lassie than the princess. 
 The likeness of some ewe -milking, cheese -making 
 sonsie Hepburn hath descended to thee, and hath been 
 fostered by country breeding. But thou hast by nature 
 the turn of the neck, and the tread that belong to 
 our Lorraine blood, the blood of Charlemagne, and 
 now that I have thee altogether, see if I train thee not 
 so as to bring out the princess that is in thee ; and so, 
 good-night, my bairnie, my sweet child ; I shall sleep 
 to-night, now that I have thy warm fresh young cheek 
 beside mine. Thou art life to me, my little one."
 
 302 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 TUTBURY. 
 
 James VI. again cruelly tore his mother's heart and 
 dashed her hopes by an unfeeling letter, in which he 
 declared her incapable of being treated with, since she 
 was a prisoner and deposed. The not unreasonable 
 expectation, that his manhood might reverse the pro- 
 ceedings wrought in his name in his infancy, was 
 frustrated. Mary could no longer believe that he was 
 constrained by a faction, but perceived clearly that 
 he merely considered her as a rival, whose liberation 
 would endanger his throne, and that whatever scruples 
 he might once have entertained had given way to 
 English gold and Scottish intimidation. 
 
 " The more simple was I to look for any other in 
 the son of Darnley and the pupil of Buchanan," said 
 she, " but a mother's heart is slow to give up her 
 trust." 
 
 " And is there now no hope ?" asked Cicely. 
 
 " Hope, child ? Bum spiro, spew. The hope of 
 coming forth honourably to him and to Elizabeth is at 
 an end. There is another mode of coming forth," she 
 added with a glittering eye, " a mode which shall make 
 them rue that they have driven patience to extremity." 
 
 "By force of arms ? Oh, madam !" cried Cicely.
 
 XXII.] TUTBUKY. 303 
 
 " And wherefore not ? My noble kinsman, Guise, 
 is the paramount ruler in France, and will soon have 
 crushed the heretics there ; Parma is triumphant in 
 the Low Countries, and has only to tread out the last 
 remnants of faction with his iron boot. They wait only 
 the call, which my motherly weakness has delayed, to 
 bring their hosts to avenge my wrongs, and restore 
 this island to the true faith. Then thou, child, wilt 
 be my heiress. We will give thee to one who will 
 worthily bear the sceptre, and make thee blessed at 
 home. The Austrians make good husbands, I am told. 
 Matthias or Albert would be a noble mate for thee ; 
 only thou must be trained to more princely bearing, 
 my little home-bred lassie." 
 
 In spite — nay, perhaps, in consequence — of these 
 anticipations, an entire change began for Cicely. It 
 was as if all the romance of her princely station had 
 died out and the reality had set in. Her freedom was 
 at an end. As one of the suite of the Queen of Scots, 
 she was as much a prisoner as the rest ; whereas before, 
 both at Buxton and Sheffield, she had been like a dog 
 or kitten admitted to be petted and played with, but 
 living another life elsewhere, while now there was 
 nothing to relieve the weariness and monotony of the 
 restraint. 
 
 Nor was the petting what it was at first. Mary 
 was far from being in the almost frolicsome mood which 
 had possessed her at Buxton ; her hopes and spirits 
 had sunk to the lowest pitch, and though she had an 
 admirably sweet and considerate temper, and was 
 scarcely ever fretful or unreasonable with her attend- 
 ants, still depression, illness, and anxiety could not but 
 tell on her mode of dealing with her surroundings. 
 Sometimes she gave way entirely, and declared she
 
 304 UNKNOWN TO HISTOEY. [CHAP. 
 
 should waste away and perish, in her captivity, and 
 that she only brought misery and destruction on all 
 who tried to befriend her ; or, again, that she knew 
 that Burghley and Walsingham were determined to 
 have her blood. 
 
 It was in these moments that Cicely loved her most 
 warmly, for caresses and endearments soothed her, and 
 the grateful affection which received them would be 
 very sweet. Or in a higher tone, she would trust 
 that, if she were to perish, she might be a martyr and 
 confessor for her Church, though, as she owned, the 
 sacrifice would be stained by many a sin ; and she 
 betook herself to the devotions which then touched 
 her daughter more than in any other respect. 
 
 More often, however, her indomitable spirit resorted 
 to fresh schemes, and chafed fiercely and hotly at 
 thought of her wrongs ; and this made her the more 
 critical of all that displeased her in Cicely. 
 
 Much that had been treated as charming and amus- 
 ing when Cicely was her plaything and her visitor was 
 now treated as unbecoming English rusticity. The 
 Princess Bride must speak French and Italian, perhaps 
 Latin; and the girl, whose literary education had 
 stopped short when she ceased to attend Master 
 Sniggius's school, was made to study her Cicero once 
 more with the almoner, who was now a French priest 
 named De Preaux, while Queen Mary herself heard 
 her read French, and, though always good-natured, 
 was excruciated by her pronunciation. 
 
 Moreover, Mary was too admirable a needlewoman 
 not to wish to make her daughter the same ; whereas 
 Cicely's turn had always been for the department of 
 housewifery, and she could make a castle in pastry far 
 better than in tapestry ; but where Queen Mary had
 
 XXII.] TUTBUEY. 305 
 
 a whole service of cooks and pantlers of her own, this 
 accomplishment was uncalled for, and was in fact 
 considered undignified. She had to sit still and learn 
 all the embroidery stitches and lace -making arts 
 brought by Mary from the Court of France, till her 
 eyes grew weary, her heart faint, and her young limbs 
 ached for the freedom of Bridgefield Pleasaunce and 
 Sheffield Park. 
 
 Her mother sometimes saw her weariness, and 
 would try to enliven her by setting her to dance, but 
 here poor Cicely's untaught movements were sure to 
 incur reproof; and even if they had been far more 
 satisfactory to the beholders, what refreshment were 
 they in comparison with gathering cranberries in the 
 park, or holding a basket for Ned in the apple-tree ? 
 Mrs. Kennedy made no scruple of scolding her roundly 
 for fretting in a month over what the Queen had borne 
 for full eighteen years. 
 
 " Ah ! " said poor Cicely, " but she had always been 
 a queen, and was used to being mewed up close ! " 
 
 And if this was the case at Wingfield, how much 
 more was it so at Tutbury, whither Mary was removed 
 in January. The space was far smaller, and the rooms 
 were cold and damp ; there was much less outlet, the 
 atmosphere was unwholesome, and the furniture in- 
 sufficient. Mary was in bed with rheumatism almost 
 from the time of her arrival, but she seemed thus to 
 become the more vigilant over her daughter, and dis- 
 tressed by her shortcomings. If the Queen did not 
 take exercise, the suite were not supposed to require 
 any, and indeed it was never desired by her elder 
 ladies, but to the country maiden it was absolute 
 punishment to be thus shut up day after day. Neither 
 Sir Ealf Sadler nor his colleague, Mr. Somer, had 
 
 VOL. I. X
 
 306 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 brought a wife to share the charge, so that there was 
 none of the neutral ground afforded by intercourse 
 with the ladies of the Talbot family, and at first the 
 only variety Cicely ever had was the attendance at 
 chapel on the other side of the court. 
 
 It was remarkable that Mary discouraged all 
 proselytising towards the Protestants of her train, and 
 even forbore to make any open attempt on her 
 daughters faith. " Cela viendrd," she said to Marie 
 de Courcelles. " The sermons of M. le Pasteur will 
 do more to convert her to our side than a hundred 
 controversial arguments of our excellent Abbe ; and 
 when the good time comes, one High Mass will be 
 enough to win her over." 
 
 " Alas ! when shall we ever again assist at the 
 Holy Sacrifice in all its glory !" sighed the lady. 
 
 " Ah, my good Courcelles ! of what have you not 
 deprived yourself for me ! Sacrifice, ah ! truly you 
 share it ! But for the child, it would give needless 
 offence and difficulty were she to embrace our holy 
 faith at present. She is simple and impetuous, and 
 has not yet sufficiently outgrown the rude straight- 
 forward breeding of the good housewife, Madam Susan, 
 not to rush into open confession of her faith, and then ! 
 oh the fracas ! The wicked wolves would have stolen 
 a precious lamb from M. le Pasteur's fold ! Master 
 Richard would be sent for ! Our restraint would be the 
 closer ! Moreover, even when the moment of freedom 
 strikes, who knows that to find her of their own reli- 
 gion may not win us favour with the English ?" 
 
 So, from whatever motive, Cis remained unmolested 
 in her religion, save by the weariness of the contro- 
 versial sermons, during which the young lady con- 
 trived to abstract her mind pretty completely. If in
 
 XXII.] TUTBURY. 30 7 
 
 good spirits she would construct airy castles for lier 
 Archduke ; if dispirited, she yearned with a homesick 
 feeling for Bridgefield and Mrs. Talbot. There was 
 something in the firm sober wisdom and steady kind- 
 ness of that good lady which inspired a sense of con- 
 fidence, for which no caresses nor brilliant auguries 
 could compensate. 
 
 Weary and cramped she was to the point of having 
 a feverish attack, and on one slightly delirious night 
 she fretted piteously after " mother," and shook off the 
 Queen's hand, entreating that " mother, real mother," 
 would come. Mary was much pained, and declared 
 that if the child were not better the next day she should 
 have a messenger sent to summon Mrs. Talbot. How- 
 ever, she was better in the morning; and the Queen, 
 who had been making strong representations of the 
 unhealthiness and other inconveniences of Tutbury, 
 received a promise that she should change her abode 
 as soon as Chartley, a house belonging to the young 
 Earl of Essex, could be prepared for her. 
 
 The giving away large alms had always been one 
 of her great solaces — not that she was often permitted 
 any personal contact with the poor : only to sit at a 
 window watching them as they flocked into the court, 
 to be relieved by her servants under supervision from 
 some officer of her warders, so as to hinder any surrep- 
 titious communication from passing between them. 
 Sometimes, however, the poor would accost her or her 
 suite as she rode out ; and she had a great compassion 
 for them, deprived, as she said, of the alms of the 
 religious houses, and flogged or branded if hunger forced 
 them into beggary. On a fine spring day Sir Ealf 
 Sadler invited the ladies out to a hawking party on 
 the banks of the Dove, with the little sparrow hawks,
 
 308 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 whose prey was specially larks. Pity for the beautiful 
 soaring songster, or for the young ones that might be 
 starved in their nests, if the parent birds were killed, 
 had not then been thought of. A gallop on the moors, 
 though they were strangely dull, gray, and stony, 
 was always the best remedy for the Queen's ailments ; 
 and the party got into the saddle gaily, and joyously 
 followed the chase, thinking only of the dexterity and 
 beauty of the flight of pursuer and pursued, instead 
 of the deadly terror and cruel death to which they 
 condemned the crested creature, the very proverb for 
 joyousness. 
 
 It was during the halt which followed the slaughter 
 of one of the larks, and the reclaiming of the hawk, 
 that Cicely strayed a little away from the rest of the 
 party to gather some golden willow catkins and sprays 
 of white sloe thorn wherewith to adorn a beaupot that 
 might cheer the dull rooms at Tutbury. 
 
 She had jumped down from her pony for the pur- 
 pose, and was culling the branch, when from the copse- 
 wood that clothed the gorge of the river a ragged 
 woman, with a hood tied over her head, came forward 
 with outstretched hand asking for alms. 
 
 " You may have something from the Queen anon, 
 Goody, when I can get back to her," said Cis, not much 
 liking the looks or the voice of the woman. 
 
 " And have you nothing to cross the poor woman's 
 hand with, fair mistress ?" returned the beggar. " She 
 brought you fair fortune once ; how know you but she 
 can bring you more ?" 
 
 And Cicely recognised the person who had haunted 
 her at Sheffield, Tideswell, and Buxton, and whom she 
 had heard pronounced to be no woman at all. 
 
 "I need no fortune of your bringing," she said
 
 xxil] tutbuey. 309 
 
 proudly, and trying to get nearer the rest of the party. 
 heartily wishing she was on, not off, her little rough pony. 
 
 " My young lady is proud," said her tormentor, 
 fixing on her the little pale eyes she so much dis- 
 liked. " She is not one of the maidens who would 
 thank one who can make or mar her life, and cast 
 spells that can help her to a princely husband or leave 
 her to a prison." 
 
 " Let go," said Cicely, as she saw a retaining hand 
 laid on her pony's bridle ; " I will not be beset thus." 
 
 "And this is your gratitude to her who helped you 
 to lie in a queen's bosom ; ay, and who could aid you 
 to rise higher or fall lower ? " 
 
 " I owe nothing to you," said Cicely, too angry to 
 think of prudence. " Let me go ! " 
 
 There was a laugh, and not a woman's laugh. "You 
 owe nothing, quoth my mistress ? Not to one who saw 
 you, a drenched babe, brought in from the wreck, and 
 who gave the sign which has raised you to your present 
 honours? Beware!" 
 
 By this time, however, the conversation had at- 
 tracted notice, and several riders were coining towards 
 them. 
 
 There was an immediate change of voice from the 
 threatening tone to the beggar's whine ; but the words 
 were — " I must have my reward ere I speak out." 
 
 " What is this ? A masterful beggar wife besetting 
 Mistress Talbot," said Mr. Somer, who came first. 
 
 " I had naught to give her," said Cicely. 
 
 " She should have the lash for thus frightening you," 
 said Somer. " Yonder lady is too good to such vaga- 
 bonds, and they come about us in swarms. Stand 
 back, woman, or it may be the worse for you. Let me 
 help you to your horse, Mistress Cicely."
 
 310 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. [CHAP. 
 
 Instead of obeying, the seeming woman, to gain 
 time perhaps, began a story of woe ; and Mr. Somer, 
 being anxious to remount the young lady, did not 
 immediately stop it, so that before Cis was in her 
 saddle the Queen had ridden up, with Sir Ealf Sadler 
 a little behind her. There were thus a few seconds 
 free, in which the stranger sprang to the Queen's bridle 
 and said a few hasty words almost inaudibly, and as Cis 
 thought, in French ; but they were answered aloud in 
 English — " My good woman, I know all that you can 
 tell me, and more, of this young lady's fortune. Here 
 are such alms as are mine to give ; but hold your peace, 
 and quit us now." 
 
 Sir Ealf Sadler and his son-in-law both looked 
 suspicious at this interview, and bade one of the 
 grooms ride after the woman and see what became of 
 her, but the fellow soon lost sight of her in the broken 
 ground by the river-side. 
 
 When the party reached home, there was an 
 anxious consultation of the inner circle of confidantes 
 over Cicely's story. Neither she nor the Queen had 
 the least doubt that the stranger was Cuthbert Lang- 
 ston, who had been employed as an agent of hers for 
 many years past ; his insignificant stature and colour- 
 less features eminently fitting him for it. No con- 
 cealment was made now that, he was the messenger 
 with the beads and bracelets, which were explained to 
 refer to some ivory beads which had been once placed 
 among some spars purchased by the Queen, and which 
 Jean had recognised as part of a rosary belonging to 
 poor Alison Hepburn, the nurse who had carried the 
 babe from Lochleven. This had opened the way to 
 the recovery of her daughter. Mary and Sir Andrew 
 Melville had always held him to be devotedly faithful,
 
 XXII.] TUTBUEY. 311 
 
 but there had certainly been something of greed, and 
 something of menace in his language which excited 
 anxiety. Cicely was sure that his expressions con- 
 veyed that he really knew her royal birth, and meant 
 to threaten her with the consequences, but the few 
 who had known it were absolutely persuaded that 
 this was impossible, and believed that he could only 
 surmise that she was of more importance than an 
 archer's daughter. 
 
 He had told the Queen in French that he was in 
 great need, and expected a reward for his discretion 
 respecting what he had brought her. And when he per- 
 ceived the danger of being overheard, he had changed 
 it into a pleading, " I did but tell the fair young lady 
 that I could cast a spell that would bring her some 
 good fortune. "Would her Grace hear it ?" 
 
 * So," said Mary, " I could but answer him as I 
 did, Sadler and Somer being both nigh. I gave him 
 my purse, with all there was therein. How much 
 was it, Andrew ? " 
 
 " Five golden pieces, besides groats and testers, 
 madam," replied Sir Andrew. 
 
 " If he come again, he must have more, if it can 
 lie contrived without suspicion," said the Queen. "I 
 fear me he may become troublesome if he guess some- 
 what, and have to be paid to hold his tongue." 
 
 " I dread worse than that," said Melville, apart to 
 Jean Kennedy ; " there was a scunner in his een that 
 I mislikit, as though her Grace had offended him. 
 And if the lust of the penny-fee hath possessed him, 
 'tis but who can bid the highest, to have him fast 
 body and soul. Those lads ! those lads ! I've seen a 
 mony of them. They'll begin for pure love of the 
 Queen and of Holy Church, but ye see, 'tis lying and
 
 312.> UNKNOWN TO HISTOEY. [CHAP. 
 
 falsehood and disguise that is needed, and one way 
 or other they get so in love with it, that they come at 
 last to lie to us as well as to the other side, and then 
 none kens where to have them ! Cuthbert has been 
 over to that weary Paris, and once a man goes there, 
 he leaves his truth and honour behind him, and ye 
 kenna whether he be serving you, or Queen Elizabeth, 
 or the deil himsel'. I wish I could stop that loon's 
 thrapple, or else wot how much he kens anent our 
 Lady Bride." 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 

 
 
 1