, I marvel that
so godly a man as you have ever been should be willing to harbour one
so popishly affected, and whom many suspect of being a seminary priest."

"Master Heatherthwayte," returned the captain, "my kinsman is my
kinsman, and my house is my house. No offence, sir, but I brook not
meddling."

The clergyman protested that no offence was intended, only caution, and
betook himself to his own bare chamber, high above. No sooner was he
gone than Captain Talbot again became absorbed in the endeavour to
spell out the mystery of the scroll, with his elbows on the table and
his hands over his ears, nor did he look up till he was touched by his
wife, when he uttered an impatient demand what she wanted now.

She had the little waif in her arms undressed, and with only a woollen
coverlet loosely wrapped round her, and without speaking she pointed to
the little shoulder-blades, where two marks had been indelibly made--on
one side the crowned monogram of the Blessed Virgin, on the other a
device like the Labarum, only that the upright was surmounted by a
fleur-de-lis.

Richard Talbot gave a sort of perplexed grunt of annoyance to
acknowledge that he saw them.

"Poor little maid! how could they be so cruel? They have been branded
with a hot iron," said the lady.

"They that parted from her meant to know her again," returned Talbot.

"Surely they are Popish marks," added Mistress Susan.

"Look you here, Dame Sue, I know you for a discreet woman. Keep this
gear to yourself, both the letter and the marks. Who hath seen them?"

"I doubt me whether even Colet has seen this mark."

"That is well. Keep all out of sight. Many a man has been brought
into trouble for a less matter swelled by prating tongues."

"Have you made it out?"

"Not I. It may be only the child's horoscope, or some old wife's charm
that is here sewn up, and these marks may be naught but some sailor's
freak; but, on the other hand, they may be concerned with perilous
matter, so the less said the better."

"Should they not be shown to my lord, or to her Grace's Council?"

"I'm not going to run my head into trouble for making a coil about what
may be naught. That's what befell honest Mark Walton. He thought he
had seized matter of State, and went up to Master Walsingham, swelling
like an Indian turkey-cock, with his secret letters, and behold they
turned out to be a Dutch fishwife's charm to bring the herrings. I can
tell you he has rue