ved," said Susan. "My Lord would say we
had betrayed our trust, and there never has been one stain on my
husband's honour."

"You are wroth with me too, mother!" said Cis.

"Not if you are a good child, and guard the honour of the name you
bear."

"I will, I will!" said Cis. "Never will I take another gift from the
Queen if only you and he will call me your child, and be--good to me--"
The rest was lost in tears and in the tender caresses that Susan
lavished on her; all the more as she caught the broken words, "Humfrey,
too, he would never forgive me."

Susan told her husband what had passed, adding, "She will keep her
word."

"She must, or she shall go no more to the lodge," he said.

"You would not have doubted had you seen her eye flash at the thought
of bringing your honour into question. There spoke her kingly blood."

"Well, we shall see," sighed Richard, "if it be blood that makes the
nature. I fear me hers is but that of a Scottish thief! Scorn not
warning, mother, but watch thy stranger nestling well."

"Nay, mine husband. While we own her as our child, she will do
anything to be one with us. It is when we seem to put her from us that
we wound her so that I know not what she might do, fondled as she
is--by--by her who--has the best right to the dear child."

Richard uttered a certain exclamation of disgust which silenced his
discreet wife.

Neither of them had quite anticipated the result, namely, that the next
morning, Cis, after kissing the Queen's hand as usual, remained
kneeling, her bosom heaving, and a little stammering on her tongue,
while tears rose to her eyes.

"What is it, mignonne," said Mary, kindly; "is the whelp dead? or is
the clasp broken?"

"No, madam; but--but I pray you give me no more gifts. My father says
it touches his honour, and I have promised him--Oh, madam, be not
displeased with me, but let me give you back your last beauteous gift."

Mary was standing by the fire. She took the ivory and coral trinket
from the hand of the kneeling girl, and dashed it into the hottest
glow. There was passion in the action, and in the kindling eye, but it
was but for a moment. Before Cis could speak or Susan begin her
excuses, the delicate hand was laid on the girl's head, and a calm
voice said, "Fear not, child. Queens take not back their gifts. I
ought to have borne in mind that I am balked of the pleasure of
giving--the beat of all the joys they have robbed me of. But