id
Cicely. "Mother, can you not stay with me?--I have so much to say to
you, and my time is short."

The Talbots were, however, too much accustomed to obedience to the
peremptory commands of their feudal chiefs to venture on such
disobedience. Susan's proposal had been a great piece of audacity, on
which she would hardly have ventured but for her consciousness that the
maiden was no Talbot at all.

Yet to Cis the dear company of her mother Susan, even in the Countess's
society, seemed too precious to be resigned, and she had likewise been
told that Lady Shrewsbury's mind had greatly changed towards Mary, and
that since the irritation of the captive's presence had been removed,
she remembered only the happier and kindlier portion of their past
intercourse. There had been plenty of quarrels with her husband, but
none so desperate as before, and at this present time the Earl and
Countess were united against the surviving sons, who, with Gilbert at
their head, were making large demands on them. Cicely felt grateful to
the Earl for his absence from Fotheringhay, and, though disappointed of
her peaceful home evening, declared she would come up to the Lodge
rather than lose sight of "mother." The stable people, more
considerate than their Lord and Lady, proved to have sent a horse
litter for the conveyance of the ladies called out on the wet dark
October evening, and here it was that Cis could enjoy her first
precious moment of privacy with one for whom she had so long yearned.
Susan rejoiced in the heavy lumbering conveyance as a luxury, sparing
the maiden's fatigue, and she was commencing some inquiries into the
indisposition which had procured this holiday, when Cicely broke in, "O
mother, nothing aileth me. It is not for that cause--but oh! mother, I
am to go to see Queen Elizabeth, and strive with her for her--for my
mother's life and freedom."

"Thou! poor little maid. Doth thy father--what am I saying? Doth my
husband know?"

"Oh yes. He will take me. He saith it is my duty."

"Then it must be well," said Susan in an altered voice on hearing this.
"From whom came the proposal?"

"I made it," said Cicely in a low, feeble voice on the verge of tears.
"Oh, dear mother, thou wilt not tell any one how faint of heart I am?
I did mean it in sooth, but I never guessed how dreadful it would grow
now I am pledged to it."

"Thou art pledged, then, and canst not falter?"

"Never," said Cicely; "I would not that