“Not one, madam.  When last I heard they were still childless.”

“And now you are on your way to take on you the cheering of your sister-in-law, the widow,” said the Queen, and as Diccon made a gesture of assent, she stretched out her hand and drew him nearer.  “She is then alone in the world.  She is my kinswoman, if so be she is all she calls herself.  Now, Master Talbot, go not open-mouthed about your work, but tell this lady that if she can prove her kindred to me, and bring evidence of her birth at Lochleven, I will welcome her here, treat her as my cousin the Princess of Scotland, and, it may be, put her on her way to higher preferment, so she prove herself worthy thereof.  You take me, sir?”

Diccon did take in the situation.  He had understood how Cavendish, partly blinded by Langston, partly unwilling to believe in any competitor who would be nearer the throne than his niece Arabella Stewart, and partly disconcerted by Langston’s disappearance, had made such a report to the Queen and the French Ambassador, that they had thought that the whole matter was an imposture, and had been so ashamed of their acquiescence as to obliterate all record of it.  But the Queen’s mind had since recurred to the matter, and as in these later years of her reign one of her constant desires was to hinder James from making too sure of the succession, she was evidently willing to play his sister off against him.

Nay, in the general uncertainty, dreams came over Diccon of possible royal honours to Queen Bridget; and then what glories would be reflected on the house of Talbot!  His father and mother were too old, no doubt, to bask in the sunshine of the Court, and Ned—­pity that he was a clergyman, and had done so dull a thing as marry that little pupil of his mother’s, Laetitia, as he had rendered her Puritan name.  But he might be made a bishop, and his mother’s scholar would always become any station.  And for Diccon himself—­ assuredly the Mastiff race would rejoice in a new coronet!

Seven weeks later, Diccon was back again, and was once more summoned to the Queen’s apartment.  He looked crestfallen, and she began,—­

“Well, sir?  Have you brought the lady?”

“Not so, an’t please your Majesty.”

“And wherefore?  Fears she to come, or has she sent no message nor letter?”

“She sends her deep and humble thanks, madam, for the honour your Majesty intended her, but she—­”

“How now?  Is she too great a fool to accept of it?”

“Yea, madam.  She prays your Grace to leave her in her obscurity at the Hague.”

Elizabeth made a sound of utter amazement and incredulity, and then said, “This is new madness!  Come, young man, tell me all!  This is as good and new as ever was play.  Let me hear.  What like is she?  And what is her house to be preferred to mine?”

Diccon saw his cue, and began—­