o man in England was
prouder or more pleased than he when, at the time appointed, he made his
bow to his Sovereign-Lady and kissed her hand.

"I have summoned you, Sir John," Her Majesty said, "to ask a great
favour of you. I do not often stoop, as you know, to beg a favour of
any man; nor should I now, did I not know that I have no more dutiful
subject than yourself, and that to ask of you is to receive. I am
interested in two young people who have had the misfortune to marry
against the wishes of the lady's father, and who have thus forfeited his
favour. And I wish you to give me and the youthful couple pleasure by
taking his place and standing sponsor to their first child."

To such a request made by his Sovereign Sir John could but give a
delighted consent. He would do much more than this, he vowed, to give
her a moment's gratification; and he not only attended the baptismal
ceremony, but on the suggestion of the Queen, who was also present,
allowed the child to bear his own Christian name. "More than this, your
Majesty," he declared, "as I have now no child of my own, I will gladly
adopt this infant as my heir."

"Your goodness of heart, Sir John," Her Majesty answered, beaming with
pleasure, "shall not go unrewarded; for the child you have now taken to
your heart and made inheritor of your wealth is indeed of your own flesh
and blood--the first-born son of your daughter, and my friend, Elizabeth
Compton."

Such was the dramatic plight into which "Rich Spencer's" loyalty and
generosity had led him. He had innocently pledged himself to adopt as
his heir, the son of the daughter he had disowned for ever. "And now,
Sir John," continued the Queen, "that you have conceded so much to make
me happy, will you not go one step farther and take your wilful and
penitent daughter to your heart again?" What could the poor merchant do
in such a predicament, when his Sovereign stooped to beg as a favour
what his lonely heart yearned to grant? Before he was many minutes older
he was clasping his child to his breast; and was even shaking hands with
her graceless husband.

* * * * *

When, full of years, Sir John died in 1609, his obsequies were worthy of
his wealth and fame. He was followed to his grave in St Helen's Church
by a thousand mourners, clad in black gowns; and three hundred and
twenty poor men, we are told, "had each a basket given them, containing
a black gown, four pounds of beef,