eceive her, came to the
carriage window and bade her look up. "This is Periho Lane," he said,
"whence your Grace may have the first sight of the poor house which is
to have the honour of receiving you."

"Perio! I perish," repeated Mary; "an ominous road."

The place showed itself to be of immense strength. The hollow sound
caused by rolling over a drawbridge was twice heard, and the carriage
crossed two courts before stopping at the foot of a broad flight of
stone steps, where stood Sir William Fitzwilliam and Sir Amias Paulett
ready to hand out the Queen.

A few stone steps were mounted, then an enormous hall had to be
traversed. The little procession had formed in pairs, and Humfrey was
able to give his hand to Cicely and walk with her along the vast space,
on which many windows emblazoned with coats of arms shed their
light--the western ones full of the bright September sunshine. One of
these, emblazoned with the royal shield in crimson mantlings, cast a
blood-red stain on the white stone pavement. Mary, who was walking
first, holding by the arm of Sir Andrew Melville, paused, shuddered,
pointed, and said, "See, Andrew, there will my blood be shed."

"Madam, madam! speak not thus. By the help of the saints you will yet
win through your troubles."

"Ay, Andrew, but only by one fate;" and she looked upwards.

Her faithful followers could not but notice that there was no eager
assurance that no ill was intended her, such as they had often heard
from Shrewsbury and Sadler.

Cicely looked at Humfrey with widely-opened eyes, and the half-breathed
question, "What does it mean?"

He shook his head gravely and said, "I cannot tell," but he could not
keep his manner from betraying that he expected the worst.

Meanwhile Mary was conducted on to her apartments, up a stair as usual,
and forming another side of the inner court at right angles to the
Hall. There was no reason to complain of these, Mary's furniture
having as usual been sent forward with her inferior servants, and
arranged by them. She was weary, and sat down at once on her chair,
and as soon as Paulett had gone through his usual formalities with even
more than his wonted stiffness, and had left her, she said, "I see what
we are come here for. It is that yonder hall may be the place of my
death."

Cheering assurances and deprecations of evil augury were poured on her,
but she put them aside, saying, "Nay, my friends, trow you not that I
rejoice