“There is one question I would fain ask, Madam mother:  Doth my real father yet live?  The Earl of—­”

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 parting 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 Reformed minister, and Bothwell 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 Richard, 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 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 manners, 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.”