ncountered Gillingham, who directed him on to Mr. Heatherthwayte's.

What he brought himself to tell of the last scene at Fotheringhay has
been mostly recorded by history, and need not here be dwelt upon. When
Bourgoin and Melville fell back, unable to support their mistress along
the hall to the scaffold, the Queen had said to him, "Thou wilt do me
this last service," and had leant on his arm along the crowded hall,
and had taken that moment to speak those last words for Cicely. She
had blessed James openly, and declared her trust that he would find
salvation if he lived well and sincerely in the faith he had chosen.
With him she had secretly blessed her other child.

Humfrey was much shaken and could hardly command his voice to answer
the questions of Master Heatherthwayte, but he so replied to them that,
one by one, the phrases and turns were relinquished which the worthy
man had prepared for a Sunday's sermon on "Go see now this accursed
woman and bury her, for she is a king's daughter," and he even began to
consider of choosing for his text something that would bid his
congregation not to judge after the sight of their eyes, nor condemn
after the hearing of their ears.

When Humfrey had eaten and drunk, and the ruddy hue was returning to
his cheek, Mr. Heatherthwayte discovered that he must speak with his
churchwarden that night. Probably the pleasure of communicating the
tidings that the deed was accomplished added force to the consideration
that the father and son would rather be alone together, for he lighted
his lantern with alacrity, and carried off Dust-and-Ashes with him.

Then Humfrey had more to tell which brooked no delay. On the day after
the departure of his father and Cicely, Will Cavendish had arrived, and
Humfrey had been desired to demand from the prisoner an immediate
audience for that gentleman. Mary had said, "This is anent the child.
Call him in, Humfrey," and as Cavendish had passed the guard he had
struck his old comrade on the shoulder and observed, "What gulls we
have at Hallamshire."

He had come out from his conference fuming, and desiring to hear from
Humfrey whether he were aware of the imposture that had been put on the
Queen and upon them all, and to which yonder stubborn woman still chose
to cleave--little Cis Talbot supposing herself a queen's daughter, and
they all, even grave Master Richard, being duped. It was too much for
Will! A gentleman, so nearly connected with the