"

"I drink with no enemy of the queen," said Greville coldly.

"Greville!" exclaimed Lord Stafford.

"We differ not, Master Greville," smiled the soldier. "My life, my
service, my all is devoted to our queen. God bless Her Majesty!"

"God bless Her Majesty, Elizabeth," returned Greville pointedly.

"Thy mother waits thee, Francis, in her tiring-room," interposed Lord
Stafford hastily. "Come to me anon. Greville, no more of this an thou
lovest me."

The tutor without another word withdrew from the room accompanied by his
pupil.

"Was it not strange, cousin, that I should have thought our guest a
priest?" queried Francis when they were beyond the portals of the door.

"Nay; the habit doth not always proclaim the monk," quoth Greville
sententiously. "You spoke truer than you knew when you called him
'father.'"

"Is he in sooth then a priest?" asked the girl curiously. "Why comes he
then in such array? Are not priests always welcome in my father's
house?"

"Is it not within thy ken that an edict hath been passed making it
treason for priests to be found within the kingdom, and felony to harbor
them? And, forsooth, there is much reason for such a law. So many have
been the plots against the Queen's Majesty that much precaution must be
taken to preserve her from them."

"Would evil befall my father should it come to the ears of the queen that
he had given a priest entertainment?"

"I make no doubt of it, child. Therefore it behooves us to be silent
respecting the matter. But, by my life, girl! we dally too long. Away!
and set a guard upon thy lips. If thou canst carry so weighty a matter
sub silentio then will I deem thee better than the most of thy sex."

CHAPTER III

THE PAGE'S DRESS

The bower chamber of the Lady Penelope Stafford was both large and lofty
yet there was nothing there of ponderous grandeur. The walls were covered
with soft arras embroidered in bright coloring skilfully blended. The
rich furniture was designed for ease and comfort rather than pomp and
parade. The chamber was lighted by a large window with broad casements
between the mullions, and with flowing tracery above of arch and
quatrefoil.

On a low couch sat Lady Stafford swinging gently to and fro a delicate
gold handled fan of flamingo feathers which ever and anon she laid aside
to direct Francis who sat on a low stool at her feet plying some
embroidery work.

"So, my daughter," said the lady indicating a cross-stitch