“Not I, not I!” said the poor man, always weak.  “Not with those harsh yoke-fellows Kent and Paulett to drive me on, and that viper Beale to report to the Privy Council any strain of mercy as mere treason.  What can I do?”

“You would do much, my Lord, if you would move them to restore—­for these last hours—­to her those faithful servants, Melville and De Preaux, whom Paulett hath seen fit to seclude from her.  It is rank cruelty to let her die without the sacraments of her Church when her conscience will not let her accept ours.”

“It is true, Richard, over true.  I will do what I can, but I doubt me whether I shall prevail, where Paulett looks on a Mass as mere idolatry, and will not brook that it should be offered in his house.  But come you back with me, kinsman.  We will send old Master Purvis to take your daughter safely home.”

Richard of course refused, and at the same time, thinking an explanation necessary and due to the Earl, disclosed to him that Cicely was no child of his, but a near kinswoman of the Scottish Queen, whom it was desirable to place out of Queen Elizabeth’s reach for the present, adding that there had been love passages between her and his son Humfrey, who intended to wed her and see some foreign service.  Lord Shrewsbury showed at first some offence at having been kept in ignorance all these years of such a fact, and wondered what his Countess would say, marvelled too that his cousin should consent to his son’s throwing himself away on a mere stranger, of perilous connection, and going off to foreign wars; but the good nobleman was a placable man, and always considerably influenced by the person who addressed him, and he ended by placing the Mastiff at Richard’s disposal to take the young people to Scotland or Holland, or wherever they might wish to go.

This decided Mr. Talbot on making at once for the seaport; and accordingly he left behind him the horse, which was to serve as a token to his son that such was his course.  Cicely had been worn out with her day’s journey, and slept late and sound, so that she was not ready to leave her chamber till the Earl and his retinue were gone, and thus she was spared actual contact with him who was to doom her mother, and see that doom carried out.  She was recruited by rest, and more ready to talk than on the previous day, but she was greatly disappointed to find that she might not be taken to Bridgefield.

“If I could only be with Mother Susan for one hour,” she sighed.

“Would that thou couldst, my poor maid,” said Richard.  “The mother hath the trick of comfort.”

“’Twas not comfort I thought of.  None can give me that,” said the poor girl; “but she would teach me how to be a good wife to Humfrey.”