and the Countess became extremely, nay, almost inconveniently, desirous
to forward the petitioner on her way. To listen to them that night,
they would have had her go as an emissary of the house of Shrewsbury,
and only the previous quarrel with Lord Talbot and his wife prevented
them from proposing that she should be led to the foot of the throne by
Gilbert himself.

Cicely began to be somewhat alarmed at plans that would disconcert all
the instructions she had received, and only her old habits of respect
kept her silent when she thought Master Richard not ready enough to
refuse all these offers.

At last he succeeded in obtaining license to depart, and no sooner was
Cicely again shut up with Mistress Susan in the litter than she
exclaimed, "Now will it be most hard to carry out the Queen's orders
that I should go first to the French Ambassador. I would that my Lady
Countess would not think naught can succeed without her meddling."

"Thou shouldst have let father tell thy purpose in his own way," said
Susan.

"Ah! mother, I am an indiscreet simpleton, not fit for such a work as I
have taken in hand," said poor Cis. "Here hath my foolish tongue
traversed it already!"

"Fear not," said Susan, as one who well knew the nature of her
kinswoman; "belike she will have cooled to-morrow, all the more because
father said naught to the nayward."

Susan was uneasy enough herself, and very desirous to hear all from her
husband in private. And that night he told her that he had very little
hope of the intercession being availing. He believed that the
Treasurer and Secretary were absolutely determined on Mary's death, and
would sooner or later force consent from the Queen; but there was the
possibility that Elizabeth's feelings might be so far stirred that on a
sudden impulse she might set Mary at liberty, and place her beyond
their reach.

"And hap what may," he said, "when a daughter offereth to do her utmost
for a mother in peril of death, what right have I to hinder her?"

"May God guard the duteous!" said Susan. "But oh! husband, is she
worthy, for whom the child is thus to lead you into peril?"

"She is her mother," repeated Richard. "Had I erred--"

"Which you never could do," broke in the wife.

"I am a sinful man," said he.

"Yea, but there are deeds you never could have done."

"By God's grace I trust not; but hear me out, wife. Mine errors, nay,
my crimes, would not do away with the duty owed to me