are far from the Hall. If I mistake not, we
are even now in Sanborne Park and that, thou knowest, is trespass."

"Nay, cousin; not unless we kill some of the red deer with which it
abounds, and that we have not done--yet," spoke the maiden demurely.

"The thought of such a thing should not be entertained by the daughter of
Lord William Stafford. Thou durst not think it, Francis."

"Durst not?" laughed Francis teasingly. "Should one stray in our path I
will show thee what I durst."

"Boast not, girl. It bespeaks ill for thy breeding. Thou art too prone to
vaunt thy skill in shooting. Not so was that flower of womanhood, the
Lady Jane Grey. Once," and the tutor spoke warmly for this was a favorite
theme, "once it was my good hap to pass some time at Broadgate, her
father's seat in Leicestershire, and never have I seen her like for love
of learning. Greek, Latin, French and Italian spoke she as well as her
own tongue. Some knowledge had she also of Hebrew, Chaldee and Arabic.
She loved not such idle sport as the chase. Would that thou wert like
her."

"Out upon thee for so evil a wish," chided Francis, but there was a merry
twinkle in her eye that softened the harshness of her tone. "Wouldst have
me beheaded? Yet it may be that I am such a dullard that thou dost wish
that I should meet with a like fate."

"Nay, child! Thou knowest better." The face of the old man softened
involuntarily as he gazed into the laughing countenance of the girl
before him.

Her head was crowned by a mass of red gold hair which, guiltless of
crisping or curling pins, fell in ringlets over her shoulders; her
complexion was of creamy fairness; her features regular, her eyes dark
and luminous; her whole expression full of winsomeness; but there was a
sparkle in the dark eyes now so full of mischief, and a set to the rich
red lips that spoke volumes for the spirit of Mistress Francis Stafford.

"I would only that thy desire for learning was like to that of the Lady
Jane's," went on the tutor. "Yet I do not dislike thy courage, and thou
art a good wench, surely."

"Hark!" cried Francis springing to her feet. "I hear the hounds. Look
ware, Echo! Look ware! Ware, ware!"

The greyhound, answering with short sharp yelps, rushed forward
frantically, and then stood at gaze as a tall red deer bounded from the
covert into the open glade. The noble animal's strength was almost spent.
His mouth was embossed with foam and large round tears were droppi