k you for your entertainment. My lord, though thou bearest
me no good will, yet shalt thou find that Elizabeth doth not forget that
thy father was the friend of her father. 'Tis pity that more attention
hath not been given to thy son's manners, but the fault shall be
amended, I promise you. England surely hath schools for its youth that
are equal to those of thy faith abroad."

"Madam, what mean you?" asked the nobleman detecting the menace in her
words.

"We shall see what we shall see," was the queen's enigmatical rejoinder.
She swept to her chariot, and with her brilliant train, soon left
Stafford Hall behind.

As the days glided by, and no sign or message came from her, the anxiety
engendered by her last words faded away, and once more a feeling of
security crept into their hearts. This false confidence was dispelled
however one warm day in July when a messenger from the queen rode into
the courtyard, and demanded an audience with the master of the Hall. The
guest had been but a short time in the presence chamber when Lord
Stafford emerged from the apartment with pale face.

"Bid my lady and my daughter repair hither without delay," he cried
hailing a servitor.

"But, my lord," Francis heard him say as they hastened to the room in
answer to the summons, "I do but speak the truth when I declare that, as
I live by bread, I have no son. I have but one child, and that a
daughter. She is here to speak for herself."

"What is it, father?" asked Francis going to him, while Lord Shrope, the
queen's messenger, looked his bewilderment.

"The queen hath commanded that my son, Francis Stafford, shall accompany
my Lord Shrope to the court to become one of her pensioners. He doubts my
word when I say that I have no son."

"Nay, my lord; I must believe you if you say that you have none," said
the nobleman courteously. "But there is misapprehension somewhere. If I
do not misreckon foully the queen spoke of both seeing and speaking with
him during her progress hither. There is grave misunderstanding, I
fear."

"Alas! my lord, this comes of deception," Lord Stafford despairing cried.
"Let me unfold to thee all that chanced during Her Majesty's stay, and do
you advise me what course to pursue for I am nigh bereft of wit."

"Let me hear all, Stafford," returned the other. "Thou knowest that I
bear a heart well disposed toward thee, and will gladly do aught that
will aid thee. Full well do I remember how thou and I did conso