But, at least, it gave her a great opportunity.  When the letter was finished, she advanced and knelt on the step of the canopied chair, saying, “Madam, pardon me, if in the name of my unfortunate children, I entreat you not to accuse them to the Queen.”

“Your children, lady!  How have I included them in what I have told her Majesty of our sweet Countess?”

“Your Grace will remember that the foremost parts in yonder farce were allotted to my son Humfrey and to young Master Babington.  Nay, that the whole arose from the woodland sport of little Cis, which your Grace was pleased to admire.”

“Sooth enough, my good gossip, but none could suspect the poor children of the malice my Lady Countess contrived to put into the matter.”

“Ah, madam! these are times when it is convenient to shift the blame on one who can be securely punished.”

“Certes,” said Mary, thoughtfully, “the Countess is capable of making her escape by denouncing some one else, especially those within her own reach.”

“Your Grace, who can speak such truth of my poor Lady,” said Susan, “will also remember that though my Lord did yield to the persuasions of the young ladies, he so heedfully caused Master Sniggins to omit all perilous matter, that no one not informed would have guessed at the import of the piece, as it was played in the hall.”

“Most assuredly not,” said Mary, laughing a little at the recollection.  “It might have been played in Westminster Hall without putting my gracious cousin, ay, or Leicester and Hatton themselves, to the blush.”

“Thus, if the Queen should take the matter up and trace it home, it could not but be brought to my poor innocent children!  Humfrey is for the nonce out of reach, but the maiden—­I wis verily that your Highness would be loath to do her any hurt!”

“Thou art a good pleader, madam,” said the queen.  “Verily I should not like to bring the bonnie lassie into trouble.  It will give Master Curll a little more toil, ay and myself likewise, for the matter must stand in mine own hand; but we will leave out yonder unlucky farce.”

“Your Highness is very good,” said Susan earnestly.

“Yet you look not yet content, my good lady.  What more would you have of me?”

“What your Majesty will scarce grant,” said Susan.

“Ha! thou art of the same house thyself.  I had forgotten it; thou art so unlike to them.  I wager that it is not to send this same letter at all.”

“Your Highness hath guessed my mind.  Nay, madam, though assuredly I do desire it because the Countess bath been ever my good lady, and bred me up ever since I was an orphan, it is not solely for her sake that I would fain pray you, but fully as much for your Majesty’s own.”

“Madame Talbot sees the matter as I do,” said Sir Andrew Melville.  “The English Queen is as like to be irate with the reporter of the scandal as with the author of it, even as the wolf bites the barb that pierces him when he cannot reach the archer.”