old,
no doubt, to bask in the sunshine of the Court, and Ned--pity that he
was a clergyman, and had done so dull a thing as marry that little
pupil of his mother's, Laetitia, as he had rendered her Puritan name.
But he might be made a bishop, and his mother's scholar would always
become any station. And for Diccon himself--assuredly the Mastiff race
would rejoice in a new coronet!

Seven weeks later, Diccon was back again, and was once more summoned to
the Queen's apartment. He looked crestfallen, and she began,--

"Well, sir? Have you brought the lady?"

"Not so, an't please your Majesty."

"And wherefore? Fears she to come, or has she sent no message nor
letter?"

"She sends her deep and humble thanks, madam, for the honour your
Majesty intended her, but she--"

"How now? Is she too great a fool to accept of it?"

"Yea, madam. She prays your Grace to leave her in her obscurity at the
Hague."

Elizabeth made a sound of utter amazement and incredulity, and then
said, "This is new madness! Come, young man, tell me all! This is as
good and new as ever was play. Let me hear. What like is she? And
what is her house to be preferred to mine?"

Diccon saw his cue, and began--

"Her house, madam, is one of those tall Dutch mansions with high roof,
and many small windows therein, with a stoop or broad flight of steps
below, on the banks of a broad and pleasant canal, shaded with fine
elm-trees. There I found her on the stoop, in the shade, with two or
three children round her; for she is a mother to all the English
orphans there, and they are but too many. They bring them to her as a
matter of course when their parents die, and she keeps them till their
kindred in England claim them. Madam, her queenliness of port hath
gained on her. Had she come, she would not have shamed your Majesty;
and it seems that, none knowing her true birth, she is yet well-nigh a
princess among the many wives of officers and merchants who dwell at
the Hague, and doubly so among the men, to whom she and her husband
have never failed to do a kindness. Well, madam, I weary you. She
greeted me as the tender sister she has ever been, but she would not
brook to hear of fears or compassion for my brother. She would listen
to no word of doubt that he was safe, but kept the whole household in
perfect readiness for him to come. At last I spake your Majesty's
gracious message; and, madam, pardon me, but all I got was a sound
ratin