“She would not attempt it thus,” said Susan.

“I cannot tell; but I should thus be guilty of foiling her in a brave and filial purpose.”

“And yet thou dost hold her poor mother a guilty woman?”

“Said I so?  Nay, Susan, I am as dubious as ever I was on that head.”

“After hearing the trial?”

“A word in thine ear, my discreet wife.  The trial convinced me far more that place makes honest men act like cruel knaves than of aught else.”

“Then thou holdest her innocent?”

“I said not so.  I have known too long how she lives by the weaving of webs.  I know not how it is, but these great folks seem not to deem that truth in word and deed is a part of their religion.  For my part, I should distrust whatever godliness did not lead to truth, but a plain man never knows where to have them.  That she and poor Antony Babington were in league to bring hither the Spaniards and restore the Pope, I have no manner of doubt on the word of both, but then they deem it—­Heaven help them—­a virtuous act; and it might be lawful in her, seeing that she has always called herself a free sovereign unjustly detained.  What he stuck at and she denies, is the purpose of murdering the Queen’s Majesty.”

“Sure that was the head and front of the poor young man’s offending.”

“So it was, but not until he had been urged thereto by his priests, and had obtained her consent in a letter.  Heaven forgive me if I misjudge any one, but my belief is this—­that the letters, whereof only the deciphered copies were shown, did not quit the hands of either the one or the other, such as we heard them at Fotheringhay.  So poor Babington said, so saith the Queen of Scots, demanding vehemently to have them read in her presence before Nau and Curll, who could testify to them.  Cis deemeth that the true letter from Babington is in a packet which, on learning from Humfrey his suspicion that there was treachery, the Queen gave her, and she threw down a well at Chartley.”

“That was pity.”

“Say not so, for had the original letter been seized, it would only have been treated in the same manner as the copy, and never allowed to reach Queen Elizabeth.”

“I am glad poor Cicely’s mother can stand clear of that guilt,” said Susan.  “I served her too long, and received too much gentle treatment from her, to brook the thought that she could be so far left to herself.”

“Mind you, dame,” said Richard, “I am not wholly convinced that she was not aware that her friends would in some way or other bring about the Queen’s death, and that she would scarce have visited it very harshly, but she is far too wise—­ay, and too tender-hearted, to have entered into the matter beforehand.  So I think her not wholly guiltless, though the wrongs she hath suffered have been so great that I would do whatever was not disloyal to mine own Queen to aid her to obtain justice.”