ther answered never a word,
and without another look at her gave spur to his horse, and dashed
through the open gates of the court.

Then a great cry of anguish broke from the girl's lips. A black mist rose
before her eyes, engulfing her in its choking, smothering embrace. She
swayed unsteadily and fell in an unconscious heap upon the ground.

CHAPTER XXII

AS IT FELL OUT

When consciousness returned to Francis Stafford she was lying on a couch
in the presence chamber with her mother bending over her.

"Mother," she cried as a full realization of all that had taken place
rushed over her. "He is gone! My father is gone, and he hath cursed me!"
And she burst into a flood of tears.

"Think not on it, child," said the mother, her own eyes streaming. "Thou
didst try him greatly. It was ill in thee not to return to us, but thou
art young and full well do I ken the allurements that court life holds
for youth. But this thy father could have pardoned had this been all."

"My mother, art thou too against me?" The girl struggled to a sitting
position, her indignation giving her strength. "Dost thou believe that I
betrayed my father, or that I lingered at court from choice? Then what
avails it if I tell thee all? Am I not thy child, and wherefore should I
do so evil? Would that I had died ere this had come upon me!"

She flung herself back upon the couch and wept bitterly. Her mother,
alarmed at the intensity of her grief, strove to soothe her.

"Let me make my moan, mother. If my father would have but listened, he
would have known that I did not betray him; but he would not. He would
not!"

"Judge him not too harshly, Francis. Now tell me the cause of thy delay.
Why thou didst not send us word? Why thou didst not return?"

"Who was there to do my bidding? I would not have been here even yet had
I not heard the queen and her ministers planning to arrest the
conspirators. So soon as I heard my father's name I left the court
without leave, and came hither with all dispatch to warn him."

"Tell me all, Francis," urged her mother. "All that hath happened thee
from the beginning. I fear me much that thy father hath done thee
wrong."

"He hath," said Francis bitterly. "Grievous wrong! And as I live by
bread, there hath never been aught but love toward him in my heart. But
now----Oh, my mother," she cried with another outburst of woe, "my heart
is broken!"

"There, child! weep not so much. Thy father will repent h