and stepdaughters, except Bessie Cavendish, might very fairly bestow on the daughter of his kinsman so good a match as the young squire of Dethick.
"Then should we have to consider of her parentage," said Richard, when his wife had propounded her views.
"I never can bear in mind that the dear wench is none of ours," said Susan. "Thou didst say thou wouldst portion her as if she were our own little maid, and I have nine webs ready for her household linen. Must we speak of her as a stranger?"
"It would scarce be just towards another family to let them deem her of true Talbot blood, if she were to enter among them," said Richard; "though I look on the little merry maid as if she were mine own child. But there is no need yet to begin upon any such coil; and, indeed, I would wager that my lady hath other views for young Babington."
After all, parents often know very little of what passes in children's minds, and Cis never hinted to her mother that the bond of union between her and Antony was devotion to the captive Queen. Cis had only had a glimpse or two of her, riding by when hunting or hawking, or when, on festive occasions, all who were privileged to enter the park were mustered together, among whom the Talbots ranked high as kindred to both Earl and Countess; but those glimpses had been enough to fill the young heart with romance, such as the matter-of-fact elders never guessed at. Antony Babington, who was often actually in the gracious presence, and received occasional smiles, and even greetings, was immeasurably devoted to the Queen, and maintained Cicely's admiration by his vivid descriptions of the kindness, the grace, the charms of the royal captive, in contrast with the innate vulgarity of their own Countess.
Willie Douglas (the real Roland Graeme of the escape from Lochleven) had long ago been dismissed from Mary's train, with all the other servants who were deemed superfluous; but Antony had heard the details of the story from Jean Kennedy (Mrs. Kennett, as the English were pleased to call her), and Willie was the hero of his emulative imagination.
"What would I not do to be like him!" he fervently exclaimed when he had narrated the story to Humfrey and Cis, as they lay on a nest in the fern one fine autumn day, resting after an expedition to gather blackberries for the mother's preserving.
"I would not be him for anything," said Humfrey.
"Fie, Humfrey," cried Cis; "would not you dare exile or anything else in a good cause?"
"For a good cause, ay," said Humfrey in his stolid way.
"And what can be a better cause than that of the fairest of captive queens?" exclaimed Antony, hotly.
"I would not be a traitor," returned Humfrey, as he lay on his back, looking up through the chequerwork of the branches of the trees towards the sky.
"Who dares link the word traitor with my name?" said Babington, feeling for the imaginary handle of a sword.
"Not I; but you'll get it linked if you go on in this sort."
"For shame, Humfrey," again cried Cis, passionately. "Why, delivering imprisoned princesses always was the work of a true knight."
"Yea; but they first defied the giant openly," said Humfrey.
"What of that?" said Antony.
"They did not do it under trust," said Humfrey.
"I am not under trust," said Antony. "Your father may be a sworn servant of the Earl and, the Queen—Queen Elizabeth, I mean; but I have taken no oaths—nobody asked me if I would come here."
"No," said Humfrey, knitting his brows, "but you see we are all trusted to go in and out as we please, on the understanding that we do nought that can be unfaithful to the Earl; and I suppose it was thus with this same Willie Douglas."
"She was his own true and lawful Queen," cried Cis. "His first duty was to her."
Humfrey sat up and looked perplexed, but with a sudden thought exclaimed, "No Scots are we, thanks be to Heaven! and what might be loyalty in him would be rank treason in us."
"How know you that?" said Antony. "I have heard those who say that our lawful Queen is there," and he pointed towards the walls that rose in the distance above the woods.
Humfrey rose wrathful. "Then truly you are no better than a traitor, and a Spaniard, and a Papist," and fists were clenched on both aides, while Cis flew between, pulling down Humfrey's uplifted hand, and crying, "No, no; he did not say he thought so, only he had heard it."
"Let him say it again!" growled Antony, his arm bared.
"No, don't, Humfrey!" as if she saw it between his clenched teeth. "You know you only meant if Tony thought so, and he didn't. Now how can you two be so foolish and unkind to me, to bring me out for a holiday to eat blackberries and make heather crowns, and then go and spoil it all with folly about Papists, and Spaniards, and grown-up people's nonsense that nobody cares about!"
Cis had a rare power over both her comrades, and her piteous appeal actually disarmed them, since there was no one present to make them ashamed of their own placability. Grown-up people's follies were avoided by mutual consent through the rest of the walk, and the three children parted amicably when Antony had to return to fulfil his page's duties at my lord's supper, and Humfrey and Cis carried home their big basket of blackberries.
When they entered their own hall they found their mother engaged in conversation with a tall, stout, and weather-beaten man, whom she announced—"See here, my children, here is a good friend of your father's, Master Goatley, who was his chief mate in all his voyages, and hath now come over all the way from Hull to see him! He will be here anon, sir, so soon as the guard is changed at the Queen's lodge. Meantime, here are the elder children."
Diccon, who had been kept at home by some temporary damage to his foot, and little Edward were devouring the sailor with their eyes; and Humfrey and Cis were equally delighted with the introduction, especially as Master Goatley was just returned from the Western Main, and from a curious grass-woven basket which he carried slung to his side, produced sundry curiosities in the way of beads, shell-work, feather-work, and a hatchet of stone, and even a curious armlet of soft, dull gold, with pearls set in it. This he had, with great difficulty, obtained on purpose for Mistress Talbot, who had once cured him of a bad festering hurt received on board ship.
The children clustered round in ecstasies of admiration and wonder as they heard of the dark brown atives, the curious expedients by which barter was carried on; also of cruel Spaniards, and of savage fishes, with all the marvels of flying-fish, corals, palm-trees, humming birds—all that is lesson work to our modern youth, but was the most brilliant of living fairy tales at this Elizabethan period. Humfrey and Diccon were ready to rush off to voyage that instant, and even little Ned cried imitatively in his imperfect language that he would be "a tailor."
Then their father came home, and joyfully welcomed and clasped hands with his faithful mate, declaring that the sight did him good; and they sat down to supper and talked of voyages, till the boys' eyes glowed, and they beat upon their own knees with the enthusiasm that their strict manners bade them repress; while their mother kept back her sighs as she saw them becoming infected with that sea fever so dreaded by parents. Nay, she saw it in her husband himself. She knew him to be grievously weary of a charge most monotonously dull, and only varied by suspicions and petty detections; and that he was hungering and thirsting for his good ship and to be facing winds and waves. She could hear his longing in the very sound of the "Ays?" and brief inquiries by which he encouraged Goatley to proceed in the story of voyages and adventures, and she could not wonder when Goatley said, "Your heart is in it still, sir. Not one of us all but says it is a pity such a noble captain should be lost as a landsman, with nothing to do but to lock the door on a lady."
"Speak
