ac non adeunda, Vale.

(Buxton of whose warm waters men tell,
Perchance I ne'er shall see thee more, Farewell.)

Thus wrote Queen Mary with a diamond upon her window pane, smiling as
she said, "There, we will leave a memento over which the admirable Dr.
Jones will gloat his philosophical soul. Never may I see thee more,
Buxton, yet never thought I to be so happy as I have here been."

She spoke with the tenderness of farewell to the spot which had always
been the pleasantest abode of the various places of durance which had
been hers in England. Each year she had hoped would be her last of
such visits, but on this occasion everything seemed to point to a close
to the present state of things, since not only were the negotiations
with Scotland apparently prosperous, but Lord Shrewsbury had obtained
an absolute promise from Elizabeth that she would at all events relieve
him from his onerous and expensive charge. Thus there was general
cheerfulness, as the baggage was bestowed in carts and on beasts of
burthen, and Mary, as she stood finishing her inscription on the
window, smiled sweetly and graciously on Mistress Talbot, and gave her
joy of the arrival of her towardly and hopeful son, adding, "We
surprised him at the well! May his Cis, who is yet to be found, I
trow, reward his lealty!"

That was all the notice Mary deigned to take of the former relations
between her daughter and young Talbot. She did not choose again to beg
for secrecy when she was sure to hear that she had been forestalled,
and she was too consummate a judge of character not to have learnt
that, though she might despise the dogged, simple straightforwardness
of Richard and Susan Talbot, their honour was perfectly trustworthy.
She was able for the present to keep her daughter almost entirely to
herself, since, on the return to Sheffield, the former state of things
was resumed. The Bridgefield family was still quartered in the
Manor-house, and Mistress Talbot continued to be, as it were, Lady
Warder to the captive in the place of the Countess, who obstinately
refused to return while Mary was still in her husband's keeping.
Cicely, as Mary's acknowledged favourite, was almost always in her
apartments, except at the meals of the whole company of Shrewsbury
kinsfolk and retainers, when her place was always far removed from that
of Humfrey. In truth, if ever an effort might have obtained a few
seconds of private conversation, a strong sense of