“No, truly, my child.  They have tender and skilful hands.”

“May be they will tell me the story of my parents,” said Cis; “but you need never doubt me, mother.  Though I were to prove to be ever so great a lady, no one could ever be mine own mother like you!”

“Scarcely in love, my child,” said Susan, as she wrapped the little figure in a loose gown, and gave her such a kiss as parents seldom permitted themselves, in the fear of “cockering” their children, which was considered to be a most reprehensible practice.  Nor could she refrain from closely pressing Cicely’s hand as they passed through the corridor to the Queen’s apartments, gave the word to the two yeomen who were on guard for the night at the head of the stairs, and tapped at the outmost door of the royal suite of rooms.  It was opened by a French valet; but Mrs. Kennedy instantly advanced, took the maiden by the hand, and with a significant smile said:  “Gramercy, madam, we will take unco gude tent of the lassie.  A fair gude nicht to ye.”  And Mrs. Talbot felt, as she put the little hand into that of the nurse, and saw the door shut on them, as if she had virtually given up her daughter, and, oh! was it for her good?

Cis was led into the bedchamber, bright with wax tapers, though the sky was not yet dark.  She heard a sound as of closing and locking double doors, while some one drew back a crimson, gold-edged velvet curtain, which she had seen several times, and which it was whispered concealed the shrine where Queen Mary performed her devotions.  She had just risen from before it, at the sound of Cis’s entrance, and two of her ladies, Mary Seaton and Marie de Courcelles, seemed to have been kneeling with her.  She was made ready for bed, with a dark-blue velvet gown corded round her, and her hair, now very gray, braided beneath a little round cap, but a square of soft cambric drapery had been thrown over her head, so as to form a perfectly graceful veil, and shelter the features that were aging.  Indeed, when Queen Mary wore the exquisite smile that now lit up her face as she held out her arms, no one ever paused to think what those lineaments really were.  She held out her arms as Cis advanced bashfully, and said:  “Welcome, my sweet bed-fellow, my little Scot—­ one more loyal subject come to me in my bondage.”

Cis’s impulse was to put a knee to the ground and kiss the hands that received her.  “Thou art our patient,” continued Mary.  “I will see thee in bed ere I settle myself there.”  The bed was a tall, large, carved erection, with sweeping green and silver curtains, and a huge bank of lace-bordered pillows.  A flight of low steps facilitated the ascent; and Cis, passive in this new scene, was made to throw off her dressing-gown and climb up.

“And now,” said the Queen, “let me see the poor little shoulder that hath suffered so much.”

“My arm is still bound, madam,” said Cis.  But she was not listened to; and Mrs. Kennedy, much to her discomfiture, turned back her under-garment.  The marks were, in fact, so placed as to be entirely out of her own view, and Mrs. Susan had kept them from the knowledge or remark of any one.  They were also high enough up to be quite clear from the bandages, and thus she was amazed to hear the exclamation, “There! sooth enough.”