“It seems but hard to lure him on with false hopes,” said Cicely, gravely.

“Hoots, lassie,” as Dame Jean would say, “’tis but joy and delight to men to be thus tickled.  ’Tis the greatest kindness we can do them thus to amuse them,” said Mary, drawing up her head with the conscious fascination of the serpent of old Nile, and toying the while with the ciphered letter, in eagerness, and yet dread, of what it might contain.

Such things were not easy to make out, even to those who had the key, and Mary, unwilling to trust it out of her own hands, leant over it, spelling it out for many minutes, but at last broke forth into a clear ringing burst of girlish laughter and clasped her hands together, “Mignonne, mignonne, it is too rare a jest to hold back.  Deem not that your Highness stands first here!  Oh no!  ’Tis a letter from Bernardo de Mendoza with a proposition for whose hand thinkest thou?  For this poor old captive hand!  For mine, maiden.  Ay, and from whom?  From his Excellency, the Prince of Parma, Lieutenant of the Netherlands.  Anon will he be here with 30,000 picked men and the Spanish fleet; and then I shall ride once again at the head of my brave men, hear trumpets bray, and see banners fly!  We will begin to work our banner at once, child, and let Sir Ralf think it is a bed-quilt for her sacred Majesty, Elizabeth.  Thou look’st dismayed, little maiden.”

“Spanish ships and men, madam, ah! and how would it be with my father—­Mr. and Mrs. Talbot, I mean?”

“Not a hair of their heads shall be touched, child.  We will send down a chosen troop to protect them, with Babington at its head if thou wilt.  But,” added the Queen, recollecting herself, and perceiving that she had startled and even shocked her daughter, “it is not to be to-morrow, nor for many a weary month.  All that is here demanded is whether, all being well, he might look for my hand as his guerdon.  Shall I propose thine instead?”

“O madam, he is an old man and full of gout!”

“Well! we will not pull caps for him just yet.  And see, thou must be secret as the grave, child, or thou wilt ruin thy mother.  I ought not to have told thee, but the surprise was too much for me, and thou canst keep a secret.  Leave me now, child, and send me Monsieur Nau.”

The next time any converse was held between mother and daughter, Queen Mary said, “Will it grieve thee much, my lassie, to return this bauble, on the plea of thy duty to the good couple at Bridgefield?”

After all Cicely had become so fond of the curious and ingenious egg that she was rather sorry to part with it, and there was a little dismal resignation in her answer, “I will do your bidding, madam.”

“Thou shalt have a better.  I will write to Chateauneuf for the choicest that Paris can furnish,” said Mary, “but seest thou, none other mode is so safe for conveying an answer to this suitor of mine!  Nay, little one, do not fear.  He is not at hand, and if he be so gout-ridden and stern as I have heard, we will find some way to content him and make him do the service without giving thee a stepfather, even though he be grandson to an emperor.”