all hands.

She had just made up her mind on this point when there was a knock at
the door, and Mrs. Kennedy bore in a salver with a cup of wine, and
took from an attendant, who remained outside, a tray with some more
solid food, which she placed on the broad edge of the deep-set window,
and coming to the bedside, invited Mrs. Talbot to eat, while she
watched the girl. Susan complied, though with little appetite, and
Mrs. Kennedy, after standing for a few minutes in contemplation, came
to the window. She was a tall woman, her yellow hair softened by an
admixture of gray, her eyes keen and shrewd, yet capable of great
tenderness at times, her features certainly not youthful, but not a
whit more aged than they had been when Susan had first seen her
fourteen years ago. It was a quiet mouth, and one that gave a sense of
trust both in its firmness, secrecy, and kindness.

"Madam," said she, in her soft Scotch voice, lowered considerably, but
not whispering, and with her keen eyes fixed on Susan--"Madam, what
garred ye gie your bit lassie yonder marks? Ye need not fear, that
draught of Maister Gorion's will keep her sleeping fast for a good hour
or two longer, and it behoves me to ken how she cam by yonder brands."

"She had them when she came to us," said Susan.

"Ye'll no persuade me that they are birth marks," returned Mistress
Jean. "Such a thing would be a miracle in a loyal Scottish Catholic's
wean, let alone an English heretic's."

"No," said Susan, who had in fact only made the answer to give herself
time to think whether it were possible to summon her husband. "They
never seemed to me birth marks."

"Woman," said Jean Kennedy, laying a strong, though soft hand, on her
wrist, "this is not gear for trifling. Is the lass your ain bairn? Ha!
I always thought she had mair of the kindly Scot than of the Southron
about her. Hech! so they made the puir wean captive! Wha gave her
till you to keep? Your lord, I trow."

"The Lord of heaven and earth," replied Susan. "My husband took her,
the only living thing left on a wreck off the Spurn Head."

"Hech, sirs!" exclaimed Mrs. Kennedy, evidently much struck, but still
exercising great self-command. "And when fell this out?"

"Two days after Low Sunday, in the year of grace 1568," returned Susan.

"My halidome!" again ejaculated Jean, in a low voice, crossing herself.
"And what became of honest Ailie--I mean," catching herself up, "what
befell those that went