ull realization of the
situation burst upon her, and the blackness of despair filled her soul
with anguish. She was alone. She had no one to lean upon. No ear to which
she could impart her sorrows. Her mother a prisoner like herself. Her
father--a fugitive wandering she knew not whither. As the bitterness of
her lot assailed her in all its force she could no longer control herself
but gave way to a passionate burst of grief. She looked at the stone
walls by which she was enclosed, the massive iron-girded door and the
hopelessness of her situation bore with crushing weight upon her.

There was no eye to see, no longer need for control, and she gave vent to
her despair unrestrainedly. At length the fountain of her tears was dry,
and becoming more composed she sought to regain her fortitude.

"I have done no wrong," she said aloud. "No wrong? Was it wrong to give
those letters to Mary? But my father bade me. My father! Ah, no word of
that must pass my lips. Cruel and unjust he hath been, but never shall
word or act of mine bear witness against him. I must fortify my soul for
I fear that I will be questioned."

Her foreboding proved true. Early the next morning the door leading into
the chamber was opened, and Sir Francis Walsingham with two others
entered. Francis' heart sank at sight of them, but she nerved herself for
the ordeal.

"Good-morrow, Master Stafford," said the secretary courteously. "We give
you good-morrow."

"Good-morrow, Sir Francis. And to you, gentlemen, good-morrow," returned
she.

"My lad," said Walsingham not unkindly, seating himself before her, "thou
art charged with a heinous crime, and methinks that thou art too young to
be concerned in such weighty matters. Therefore, am I with these lords,
come to examine thee somewhat anent it."

"With what am I charged, sir?" asked Francis.

"With that most atrocious of all crimes,--treason," was the reply.

"My lord, I meant not to be guilty of treason against the queen," said
the girl earnestly. "If aught that I have done seemeth so in her eyes,
believe me I pray you, when I say that it was not so intended."

"I do believe it," answered the secretary. "I think that thou hast been
made use of by others to further design of bold and unscrupulous men.
Didst thou ever meet with Anthony Babington?"

"Yes, Sir Francis."

"Where?"

"Once at Salisbury, and once in the forest as I left London."

"What passed at those meetings?" Walsingham drew closer,