than in actual
features,--in a certain wonderful smile and sparkle, a mixed pathos and
archness which seldom failed of its momentary effect, even upon those
who most rebelled against it. Poor little Cis, a sturdy girl of twelve
or thirteen, playing at ball with little Ned on the terrace, and coming
with tardy steps to her daily task of spinning, had little of the
princess about her; and yet when she sat down, and the management of
distaff and thread threw her shoulders back, there was something in the
poise of her small head and the gesture of her hand that forcibly
recalled the Queen. Moreover, all the boys around were at her beck and
call, not only Humfrey and poor Antony Babington, but Cavendishes,
Pierrepoints, all the young pages and grandsons who dwelt at castle or
lodge, and attended Master Sniggius's school. Nay, the dominie
himself, though owning that Mistress Cicely promoted idleness and
inattention among his pupils, had actually volunteered to come down to
Bridgefield twice a week himself to prevent her from forgetting her
Lilly's grammar and her Caesar's Commentaries, an attention with which
this young lady would willingly have dispensed.

Stewart, Lorraine, Hepburn, the blood of all combined was a perilous
inheritance, and good Susan Talbot's instinct was that the young girl
whom she loved truly like her own daughter would need all the more
careful and tender watchfulness and training to overcome any tendencies
that might descend to her. Pity increased her affection, and even
while in ordinary household life it was easy to forget who and what the
girl really was, yet Cis was conscious that she was admitted to the
intimacy and privileges of an elder daughter, and made a companion and
friend, while her contemporaries at the Manor-house were treated as
children, and rated roundly, their fingers tapped with fans, their
shoulders even whipped, whenever they transgressed. Cis did indeed
live under equal restraint, but it was the wise and gentle restraint of
firm influence and constant watchfulness, which took from her the wish
to resist.

CHAPTER IX.

UNQUIET.

Bridgefield was a peaceable household, and the castle and manor beyond
might envy its calm.

From the time of the marriage of Elizabeth Cavendish with the young
Earl of Lennox all the shreds of comfort which had remained to the
unfortunate Earl had vanished. First he had to clear himself before
Queen Elizabeth from having been a conse