s a little disappointed when she first opened the letter, but
ere long she bethought herself of the directions she had received to
hold such notes to the fire, and accordingly she watched, waiting even
till the next day before she could have free and solitary access to
either of the two fires in the house, those in the hall and in the
kitchen.

At last, while the master was out farming, Ned at school, and the
mistress and all her maids engaged in the unsavoury occupation of
making candles, by repeated dipping of rushes into a caldron of melted
fat, after the winter's salting, she escaped under pretext of attending
to the hall fire, and kneeling beside the glowing embers, she held the
paper over it, and soon saw pale yellow characters appear and deepen
into a sort of brown or green, in which she read, "My little jewel must
share the ring with none less precious. Yet be not amazed if
commendations as from me be brought thee. Jewels are sometimes useful
to dazzle the eyes of those who shall never possess them. Therefore
seem not cold nor over coy, so as to take away all hope. It may be
much for my service. Thou art discreet, and thy good guardians will
hinder all from going too far. It might be well that he should deem
thee and me inclined to what they oppose. Be secret. Keep thine own
counsel, and let them not even guess what thou hast here read. So fare
thee well, with my longing, yearning blessing."

Cicely hastily hid the letter in the large housewifely pocket attached
to her girdle, feeling excited and important at having a real secret
unguessed by any one, and yet experiencing some of the reluctance
natural to the pupil of Susan Talbot at the notion of acting a part
towards Babington. She really liked him, and her heart warmed to him
as a true friend of her much-injured mother, so that it seemed the more
cruel to delude him with false hopes. Yet here was she asked to do a
real service to her mother!

Poor Cis, she knelt gazing perplexed into the embers, now and then
touching a stick to make them glow, till Nat, the chief of "the old
blue bottles of serving-men," came in to lay the cloth for dinner,
exclaiming, "So, Mistress Cis! Madam doth cocker thee truly, letting
thee dream over the coals, till thy face be as red as my Lady's new
farthingale, while she is toiling away like a very scullion."

CHAPTER XXI.

A TANGLE.

It was a rainy November afternoon. Dinner was over, the great wood
fir