was ended.

FRANCIS STAFFORD,
1586

was the inscription which she had carved below that of IANE. A feeling of
deep depression now took possession of her that even her books failed to
dispel.

"If I could but see my mother," she said pleadingly to the jailor. "Do
you not think, good sir, that I might? Let me speak to the lieutenant.
Surely he will not refuse me!"

"Thou mayst see her soon," said the jailor with such a note of kindness
in his voice that she looked up startled. "Meseems there is some talk of
permitting it."

"Is there aught amiss?" asked she tremblingly.

"Nay; why should there be?" queried the keeper evasively. "This day
perished more of the conspirators against the queen. Making fourteen in
all."

"Was my father among them?" Francis gasped rather than asked the
question.

"No, boy; he hath not been apprehended, and it is thought that he hath
escaped into France."

"Oh, if it be in truth so. I care not then for aught else," murmured
Francis.

"Then rest in peace; for of a certainty he hath not been taken, and thou
wilt have dire need for all thy fortitude," and with these mysterious
words he hastily quitted the room.

"What meant he?" asked Francis apprehensively. "What could he mean? What
could befall me now? Perchance he meant that life would be demanded next.
But no; the veriest wretch hath time given for preparation. Then why not
I?"

She paced the floor restlessly unable to rid herself of the misgivings
that were creeping over her. It was customary for the warder to lock her
within one of the small cells that adjoined the larger chamber for
greater security at night, but as the usual time passed and he did not
come her uneasiness increased.

At last the key grated in the lock, and the door swung open to admit the
lieutenant of the Tower and a warder.

"Be not alarmed, master," said the lieutenant courteously. "We are come
to take thee to thy mother."

"What hath happened? Why come you at night to take me to her?" demanded
Francis.

"Be brave, and I will tell thee. Thy mother hath not been well for some
time and is failing fast. We fear that she will not live much longer. For
that cause, and because it is her desire, are we taking thee to her. Nay;
there is no time for lamentation now, boy. Bear thyself like a man."

For a moment Francis leaned on him heavily almost stunned by the
information.

"Courage, lad. Far be