“Come, come, sirs,” says Talbot, “we’ll have no high words here on what Heaven only knoweth.  Poor lady she is, in all sooth, if sackless; poorer still if guilty; so I know not what matter there is for falling out about.  In any sort, I will not have it at my table.”  He spoke with the authority of the captain of a ship, and the two visitors, scarce knowing it, submitted to his decision of manner, but the harmony of the evening seemed ended.  Cuthbert Langston soon rose to bid good-night, first asking his cousin at what hour he proposed to set forth for the Spurn, to which Richard briefly replied that it depended on what had to be done as to the repairs of the ship.

The clergyman tarried behind him to say, “Master Talbot, I marvel that so godly a man as you have ever been should be willing to harbour one so popishly affected, and whom many suspect of being a seminary priest.”

“Master Heatherthwayte,” returned the captain, “my kinsman is my kinsman, and my house is my house.  No offence, sir, but I brook not meddling.”

The clergyman protested that no offence was intended, only caution, and betook himself to his own bare chamber, high above.  No sooner was he gone than Captain Talbot again became absorbed in the endeavour to spell out the mystery of the scroll, with his elbows on the table and his hands over his ears, nor did he look up till he was touched by his wife, when he uttered an impatient demand what she wanted now.

She had the little waif in her arms undressed, and with only a woollen coverlet loosely wrapped round her, and without speaking she pointed to the little shoulder-blades, where two marks had been indelibly made—­on one side the crowned monogram of the Blessed Virgin, on the other a device like the Labarum, only that the upright was surmounted by a fleur-de-lis.

Richard Talbot gave a sort of perplexed grunt of annoyance to acknowledge that he saw them.

“Poor little maid! how could they be so cruel?  They have been branded with a hot iron,” said the lady.

“They that parted from her meant to know her again,” returned Talbot.

“Surely they are Popish marks,” added Mistress Susan.

“Look you here, Dame Sue, I know you for a discreet woman.  Keep this gear to yourself, both the letter and the marks.  Who hath seen them?”

“I doubt me whether even Colet has seen this mark.”

“That is well.  Keep all out of sight.  Many a man has been brought into trouble for a less matter swelled by prating tongues.”

“Have you made it out?”

“Not I. It may be only the child’s horoscope, or some old wife’s charm that is here sewn up, and these marks may be naught but some sailor’s freak; but, on the other hand, they may be concerned with perilous matter, so the less said the better.”

“Should they not be shown to my lord, or to her Grace’s Council ?”