sturbed than she cared to admit. Perhaps the journey
to Chartley had come to the queen's ears, and that enterprise wore a
different complexion now to the girl than it had done ere her coming to
the court. "Trouble not about me. Thou canst do no more than thou hast
done."

And so she went back to her place among the pages. The greeting between
her and Edward Devereaux was formal. As the time passed she became aware
that the lad's manner toward her was quite different from what it had
been before their encounter. Now he seemed to regard her with something
akin to admiration, and assumed a protecting air toward her, assuming
many of her duties, that irked the girl exceedingly.

"Prithee, sirrah," she said one day pettishly when his guardianship was
more than usually apparent, "who gave thee leave to watch over me? It
irks me to have thee play the protector. Beshrew me, but Francis Stafford
can care for herself."

"I crave pardon, Master Stafford," replied Devereaux who never by word or
deed dropped a hint that he knew aught of her sex. "I crave pardon if I
have offended. I will vex thee no more."

From that time his care was more unobtrusive, but Francis was still
conscious of it, and it was gall and wormwood to her. She could not
forget the acknowledgment of his skill had been wrung from her when she
thought herself dying. Although she could not but admit that Devereaux
was innocent in the matter, she felt as though a fraud had been
perpetrated upon her, and, girl-like, held him responsible for it.

And so life at the court went on. A great family under the same walls,
loving and hating. The courtiers divided into factions; their followers
being kept from brawling only by the presence of the queen. The serving
men followed the example of their betters and squabbled in the kitchen;
the butlers drank on the sly in the cellars; the maids chattered in the
halls; the pages pilfered from the buttery; the matrons busied in the
still rooms compounding fragrant decoctions for perfumes, or bitter doses
for medicine; the stewards weighing money in the treasury; gallants
dueling in the orchard or meeting their ladies on the stairs. But Francis
liked it all.

The gallant courtiers with their song and fence, and quibble and prattle
and pun; the gaily dressed ladies; the masques in the great hall of the
castle; the pomp and ceremony that attended the queen when she went
abroad: all appealed to her aesthetic nature.

She soon lea