with her?"

"Not one lived," said Susan, gravely. "The mate of my husband's ship
took the little one from the arms of her nurse, who seemed to have been
left alone with her by the crew, lashed to the wreck, and to have had
her life freshly beaten out by the winds and waves, for she was still
warm. I was then lying at Hull, and they brought the babe to me, while
there was still time to save her life, with God's blessing."

"And the vessel?" asked Jean.

"My husband held it to be the Bride of Dunbar, plying between that port
and Harfleur."

"Ay! ay! Blessed St. Bride!" muttered Jean Kennedy, with an
awe-stricken look; then, collecting herself, she added, "Were there no
tokens, save these, about the little one, by which she could be known?"

"There was a gold chain with a cross, and what you call a reliquary
about her little neck, and a scroll written in cipher among her
swaddling bands; but they are laid up at home, at Bridgefield."

It was a perplexing situation for this simple-hearted and truthful
woman, and, on the other hand, Jean Kennedy was no less devoted and
loyal in her own line, a good and conscientious woman, but shrewder,
and, by nature and breeding, far less scrupulous as to absolute truth.

The one idea that Susan, in her confusion, could keep hold of was that
any admission of knowledge as to who her Cis really was, would be a
betrayal of her husband's secret; and on the other hand she saw that
Mrs. Kennedy, though most keen to discover everything, and no doubt
convinced that the maiden was her Queen's child, was bent on not
disclosing that fact to the foster-mother.

She asked anxiously whether Mistress Cicely knew of her being only an
adopted child, and Susan replied that they had intended that she never
should learn that she was of alien birth; but that it had been revealed
by the old sailor who had brought her on board the Mastiff, though no
one had heard him save young Humfrey and the girl herself, and they had
been, so far as she knew, perfectly reserved on the subject.

Jean Kennedy then inquired how the name of Cicely had been given, and
whether the child had been so baptized by Protestant rites.

"Wot you who the maid may be, madam?" Susan took courage to ask; but
the Scotswoman would not be disconcerted, and replied,

"How suld I ken without a sight of the tokens? Gin I had them, maybe I
might give a guess, but there was mony a leal Scot sairly bestead, wife
and wean and all, in he