“O mother, how can you ask?” said Cicely, dropping down, and hiding her face in the Queen’s lap.

“Then, Humfrey Talbot, I give her to thee, my child, my Bride of Scotland.  Thou wilt guard her, and shield her, and for thine own sake as well as hers, save her from the wrath and jealousy of Elizabeth.  Hark, hark!  Rise, my child.  They are presenting arms.  We shall have Paulett in anon to convey my rere-supper.”

They had only just time to compose themselves before Paulett came in, looking, as they all thought, grimmer and more starched than ever, and not well pleased to find Humfrey there, but the Queen was equal to the occasion.

“Here is Dr. Bourgoin’s list of the herbs that he needs to ease my aches,” she said.  “Master Talbot is so good as to say that, being properly instructed, he will go in search of them.”

“They will not be needed,” said Paulett, but he spoke no farther to the Queen.  Outside, however, he said to Humfrey, “Young man, you do not well to waste the Sabbath evening in converse with that blinded woman;” and meeting Mr. Talbot himself on the stair, he said, “You are going in quest of your son, sir.  You would do wisely to admonish him that he will bring himself into suspicion, if not worse, by loitering amid the snares and wiles of the woman whom wrath is even now overtaking.”

Richard found his son pacing the gallery, almost choked with agitation, and with the endeavour to conceal it from the two stolid, heavy yeomen who dozed behind the screen.  Not till he had reached the extreme end did Humfrey master his voice enough to utter in his father’s ear, “She has given her to me!”

Richard could not answer for a moment, then he said, “I fear me it will be thy ruin, Humfrey.”

“Not ruin in love or faithfulness,” said the youth.  “Father, you know I should everywhere have followed her and watched over her, even to the death, even if she could never have been mine.”

“I trow thou wouldst,” said Richard.

“Nor would you have it otherwise—­your child, your only daughter, to be left unguarded.”

“Nay, I know not that I would,” said Richard.  “I cannot but care for the poor maid like mine own, and I would not have thee less true-hearted, Humfrey, even though it cost thee thine home, and us our eldest son.”

“You have Diccon and Ned,” said Humfrey.  And then he told what had passed, and his father observed that Beale had evidently no knowledge of Cicely’s conference with the Queen, and apparently no orders to seize her.  It had oozed out that a commission had been sent to five noblemen to come and superintend the execution, since Sir Amias Paulett had again refused to let it take place without witnesses, and Richard undertook to apply at once to Sir Amias for permission to remove his daughter, on the ground of saving her tender youth from the shock.