at I came from the
north--I cannot understand! Were they the same?"

"The bairn kens too much," said Jean. "Dinna ye deave her Grace with
your speirings, my lammie. Ye'll have to learn to keep a quiet sough,
and to see mickle ye canna understand here."

"Silence her not, good nurse," said the Queen, "it imports us to know
this matter. What saidst thou of Tibbott?"

"She was the woman who got Antony Babington into trouble," explained
Cicely. "I deemed her a witch, for she would hint strange things
concerning me, but my father always believed she was a kinsman of his,
who was concerned in the Rising of the North, and who, he said, had
seen me brought in to Hull from the wreck."

"Ay?" said the Queen, as a sign to her to continue.

"And meseemed," added Cicely timidly, "that the strange woman at
Tideswell who talked of beads and bracelets minded me of Tibbott,
though she was younger, and had not her grizzled brows; but father says
that cannot be, for Master Cuthbert Langston is beyond seas at Paris."

"Soh! that is well," returned Mary, in a tone of relief. "See, child.
That Langston of whom you speak was a true friend of mine. He has done
much for me under many disguises, and at the time of thy birth he lived
as a merchant at Hull, trading with Scotland. Thus it may have become
known to him that the babe he had seen rescued from the wreck was one
who had been embarked at Dunbar. But no more doth he know. The secret
of thy birth, my poor bairn, was entrusted to none save a few of those
about me, and all of those who are still living thou hast already seen.
Lord Flemyng, who put thee on board, believed thee the child of James
Hepburn of Lillieburn, the archer, and of my poor Mary Stewart, a
kinswoman of mine ain; and it was in that belief doubtless that he, or
Tibbott, as thou call'st him, would have spoken with thee."

"But the woman at Tideswell," said Cis, who was getting
bewildered--"Diccon said that she spake to Master Gorion."

"That did she, and pointed thee out to him. It is true. She is
another faithful friend of mine, and no doubt she had the secret from
him. But no more questions, child. Enough that we sleep in each
other's arms."

It was a strange night. Cis was more conscious of wonder, excitement,
and a certain exultation, than of actual affection. She had not been
bred up so as to hunger and crave for love. Indeed she had been
treated with more tenderness and indulgence than was usua