Mary paced the room with impatient misery, and in such a round the weary hours dragged by, only mitigated by one welcome thunderstorm, for seventeen days, whose summer length made them seem the more endless.  Cicely, who had never before in her life been shut up in the house so many hours, was pale, listless, and even fretful towards the Queen, who bore with her petulance so tenderly as more than once to make her weep bitterly for very shame.  After one of these fits of tears, Mary pleaded earnestly with Sir Walter Ashton for permission for the maiden to take a turn in the garden every day, but though the good gentleman’s complexion bore testimony that he lived in the fresh air, he did not believe in its efficacy; he said he had no orders, and could do nothing without warrant.  But that evening at supper, the serving-maid brought up a large brew of herbs, dark and nauseous, which Dame Ashton had sent as good for the young lady’s megrim.

“Will you taste it, sir?” asked the Queen of Sir Walter, with a revival of her lively humour.

“The foul fiend have me if a drop comes within my lips,” muttered the knight.  “I am not bound to taste for a tirewoman!” he added, leaving it in doubt whether his objection arose from distaste to his lady’s messes, or from pride; and he presently said, perhaps half-ashamed of himself, and willing to cast the blame on the other side,

“It was kindly meant of my good dame, and if you choose to flout at, rather than benefit by it, that is no affair of mine.”

He left the potion, and Cicely disposed of it by small instalments at the windows; and a laugh over the evident horror it excited in the master, did the captives at least as much good as the camomile, centaury, wormwood, and other ingredients of the bowl.

Happily it was only two days later that Sir Walter announced that his custody of the Queen was over, and Sir Amias Paulett was come for her.  There was little preparation to make, for the two ladies had worn their riding-dresses all the time; but on reaching the great door, where Sir Amias, attended by Humfrey, was awaiting them, they were astonished to see a whole troop on horseback, all armed with head-pieces, swords and pistols, to the number of a hundred and forty.

“Wherefore is this little army raised?” she asked.

“It is by order of the Queen,” replied Ashton, with his accustomed surly manner, “and need enough in the time of such treasons!”

The Queen turned to him with tears on her cheeks.  “Good gentlemen,” she said, “I am not witting of anything against the Queen.  Am I to be taken to the Tower?”

“No, madam, back to Chartley,” replied Sir Amias.

“I knew they would never let me see my cousin,” sighed the Queen.  “Sir,” as Paulett placed her on her horse, “of your pity tell me whether I shall find all my poor servants there.”

“Yea, madam, save Mr. Nau and Mr. Curll, who are answering for themselves and for you.  Moreover, Curll’s wife was delivered two days since.”