She asked anxiously whether Mistress Cicely knew of her being only an adopted child, and Susan replied that they had intended that she never should learn that she was of alien birth; but that it had been revealed by the old sailor who had brought her on board the Mastiff, though no one had heard him save young Humfrey and the girl herself, and they had been, so far as she knew, perfectly reserved on the subject.

Jean Kennedy then inquired how the name of Cicely had been given, and whether the child had been so baptized by Protestant rites.

“Wot you who the maid may be, madam?” Susan took courage to ask; but the Scotswoman would not be disconcerted, and replied,

“How suld I ken without a sight of the tokens?  Gin I had them, maybe I might give a guess, but there was mony a leal Scot sairly bestead, wife and wean and all, in her Majesty’s cause that wearie spring.”

Here Cis stirred in her sleep, and both women were at her side in a moment, but she did not wake.

Jean Kennedy stood gazing at the girl with eagerness that she did not attempt to conceal, studying each feature in detail; but Cis showed in her sleep very little of her royal lineage, which betrayed itself far more in her gait and bearing than in her features.  Susan could not help demanding of the nurse whether she saw any resemblance that could show the maiden’s parentage.

The old lady gave a kind of Scotch guttural sound expressive of disappointment, and said, “I’ll no say but I’ve seen the like beetle-broo.  But we’ll waken the bairn with our clavers.  I’ll away the noo.  Maister Gorion will see her again ere night, but it were ill to break her sleep, the puir lassie!”

Nevertheless, she could not resist bending over and kissing the sleeper, so gently that there was no movement.  Then she left the room, and Susan stood with clasped hands.

“My child! my child!  Oh, is it coming on thee?  Wilt thou be taken from me!  Oh, and to what a fate!  And to what hands!  They will never never love thee as we have done!  O God, protect her, and be her Father.”

And Susan knelt by the bed in such a paroxysm of grief that her husband, coming in unshod that he might not disturb the girl, apprehended that she had become seriously worse.

However, his entrance awoke her, and she found herself much better, and was inclined to talk, so he sat down on a chest by the bed, and related what Diccon had told him of the reappearance of the woman with the basket of spar trinkets.

“Beads and bracelets,” said Cicely.

“Ay?” said he.  “What knowest thou of them?”

“Only that she spake the words so often; and the Queen, just ere that doctor began his speech, asked of me whether she did not sell beads and bracelets.”

“’Tis a password, no doubt, and we must be on our guard,” said Richard, while his wife demanded with whom Diccon had seen her speaking.