“That is true, madam,” said Richard, “and moreover, I cannot reconcile it to my conscience to debar the poor lady from any possible opening of safety.”

“Thou art a good man, Richard,” said the Earl, and therewith both he and the Countess became extremely, nay, almost inconveniently, desirous to forward the petitioner on her way.  To listen to them that night, they would have had her go as an emissary of the house of Shrewsbury, and only the previous quarrel with Lord Talbot and his wife prevented them from proposing that she should be led to the foot of the throne by Gilbert himself.

Cicely began to be somewhat alarmed at plans that would disconcert all the instructions she had received, and only her old habits of respect kept her silent when she thought Master Richard not ready enough to refuse all these offers.

At last he succeeded in obtaining license to depart, and no sooner was Cicely again shut up with Mistress Susan in the litter than she exclaimed, “Now will it be most hard to carry out the Queen’s orders that I should go first to the French Ambassador.  I would that my Lady Countess would not think naught can succeed without her meddling.”

“Thou shouldst have let father tell thy purpose in his own way,” said Susan.

“Ah! mother, I am an indiscreet simpleton, not fit for such a work as I have taken in hand,” said poor Cis.  “Here hath my foolish tongue traversed it already!”

“Fear not,” said Susan, as one who well knew the nature of her kinswoman; “belike she will have cooled to-morrow, all the more because father said naught to the nayward.”

Susan was uneasy enough herself, and very desirous to hear all from her husband in private.  And that night he told her that he had very little hope of the intercession being availing.  He believed that the Treasurer and Secretary were absolutely determined on Mary’s death, and would sooner or later force consent from the Queen; but there was the possibility that Elizabeth’s feelings might be so far stirred that on a sudden impulse she might set Mary at liberty, and place her beyond their reach.

“And hap what may,” he said, “when a daughter offereth to do her utmost for a mother in peril of death, what right have I to hinder her?”

“May God guard the duteous!” said Susan.  “But oh! husband, is she worthy, for whom the child is thus to lead you into peril?”

“She is her mother,” repeated Richard.  “Had I erred—­”

“Which you never could do,” broke in the wife.

“I am a sinful man,” said he.

“Yea, but there are deeds you never could have done.”

“By God’s grace I trust not; but hear me out, wife.  Mine errors, nay, my crimes, would not do away with the duty owed to me by my sons.  How, then, should any sins of this poor Queen withhold her daughter from rendering her all the succour in her power?  And thou, thou thyself, Susan, hast taken her for thine own too long to endure to let her undertake the matter alone and unaided.”