have heard from
home: when a stag-hunt was arranged to take place at the neighbouring
park of Tickhill or Tixall, belonging to Sir Walter Ashton.

The chase always invigorated Queen Mary, and she came down in cheerful
spirits, with Cicely and Mary Seaton as her attendants, and with the
two secretaries, Nau and Curll, heading the other attendants.

"Now," she said to Cicely, "shall I see this swain, or this brother of
thine, who hath done us such good service, and I promise you there will
be more in my greeting than will meet Sir Amias's ear."

But to Cicely's disappointment Humfrey was not among the horsemen
mustered at the door to attend and guard the Queen.

"My little maid's eye is seeking for her brother," said Mary, as Sir
Amias advanced to assist her to her horse.

"He hath another charge which will keep him at home," replied Paulett,
somewhat gruffly, and they rode on.

It was a beautiful day in early August, the trees in full foliage, the
fields seen here and there through them assuming their amber harvest
tints, the twin spires of Lichfield rising in the distance, the park
and forest ground through which the little hunting-party rode rich with
purple heather, illuminated here and there with a bright yellow spike
or star, and the rapid motion of her brisk palfrey animated the Queen.
She began to hope that Humfrey had after all brought a false alarm, and
that either he had been mistaken or that Langston was deceiving the
Council itself, and though Sir Amias Paulett's close proximity held her
silent, those who knew her best saw that her indomitably buoyant
spirits were rising, and she hummed to herself the refrain of a gay
French hunting-song, with the more zest perhaps that her warder held
himself trebly upright, stiff and solemn under it, as one who thought
such lively times equally unbefitting a lady, a queen, and a captive.
So at least Cis imagined as she watched them, little guessing that
there might be deeper reasons of compassion and something like
compunction to add to the gravity of the old knight's face.

As they came in sight of the gate of Tickhill Park, they became aware
of a company whose steel caps and shouldered arquebuses did not look
like those of huntsmen. Mary bounded in her saddle, she looked round
at her little suite with a glance of exultation in her eye, which said
as plainly as words, "My brave friends, the hour has come!" and she
quickened her steed, expecting, no doubt, that she