Unknown to History: A Story of the Captivity of Mary of Scotland by Yonge (sad books to read .txt) 📗

Davison further added that the Secretary Nau could corroborate that Bride Hepburn was known to the suite as a kinswoman of the Queen, and that Mr. Cavendish, clerk to Sir Francis Walsingham, knew that Babington had been suitor to the young lady, and had crossed swords with young Talbot on her account.

Elizabeth listened, and made no comment at the time, save that she sharply questioned Langston; but his tale was perfectly coherent, and as it threw the onus of the deception entirely on Mary, it did not conflict either with the sincerity evident in both Cicely and her foster-father, or with the credentials supplied by the Queen of Scots. Of the ciphered letter, and of the monograms, Elizabeth had never heard, though, if she had asked for further proof, they would have been brought forward.

She heard all, dismissed Langston, and with some petulance bade Davison likewise begone, being aware that her ministers meant her to draw the moral that she had involved herself in difficulties by holding a private audience of the French Ambassadors without their knowledge or presence. It may be that the very sense of having been touched exasperated her the more. She paced up and down the room restlessly, and her ladies heard her muttering—"That she should cheat me thus! I have pitied her often; I will pity her no more! To breed up that poor child to be palmed on me! I will make an end of it; I can endure this no longer! These tossings to and fro are more than I can bear, and all for one who is false, false, false, false! My brain will bear no more. Hap what hap, an end must be made of it. She or I, she or I must die; and which is best for England and the faith? That girl had well-nigh made me pity her, and it was all a vile cheat!"

Thus it was that Elizabeth sent for Davison, and bade him bring the warrant with him.

And thus it was that in the midst of dinner in the hall, on the Sunday, the 5th of February, the meine of the Castle were startled by the arrival of Mr. Beale, the Clerk of the Council, always a bird of sinister omen, and accompanied by a still more alarming figure a strong burly man clad in black velvet from head to foot. Every one knew who he was, and a thrill of dismay, that what had been so long expected had come at last, went through all who saw him pass through the hall. Sir Amias was summoned from table, and remained in conference with the two arrivals all through evening chapel time—an event in itself extraordinary enough to excite general anxiety. It was Humfrey's turn to be on guard, and he had not long taken his station before he was called into the Queen's apartments, where she sat at the foot of her bed, in a large chair with a small table before her. No one was with her but her two mediciners, Bourgoin and Gorion.

"Here," she said, "is the list our good Doctor has writ of the herbs he requires for my threatened attack of rheumatism."

"I will endeavour, with Sir Amias's permission, to seek them in the park," said Humfrey.

"But tell me," said Mary, fixing her clear eyes upon him, "tell me truly. Is there not a surer and more lasting cure for all my ills in preparation? Who was it who arrived to-night?"

"Madame," said Humfrey, bowing his head low as he knelt on one knee, "it was Mr. Beale."

"Ay, and who besides?"

"Madam, I heard no name, but"—as she waited for him to speak further, he uttered in a choked voice—"it was one clad in black."

"I perceive," said Mary, looking up with a smile. "A more effectual Doctor than you, my good Bourgoin. I thank my God and my cousin Elizabeth for giving me the martyr's hope at the close of the most mournful life that ever woman lived. Nay, leave me not as yet, good Humfrey. I have somewhat to say unto thee. I have a charge for thee." Something in her tone led him to look up earnestly in her face. "Thou lovest my child, I think," she added.

The young man's voice was scarcely heard, and he only said, "Yea, madam;" but there was an intensity in the tone and eyes which went to her heart.

"Thou dost not speak, but thou canst do. Wilt thou take her, Humfrey, and with her, all the inheritance of peril and sorrow that dogs our unhappy race?"

"Oh"—and there was a mighty sob that almost cut off his voice—"My life is already hers, and would be spent in her service wherever, whatever she was."

"I guessed it," said the Queen, letting her hand rest on his shoulder. "And for her thou wilt endure, if needful, suspicion, danger, exile?"

"They will be welcome, so I may shield her."

"I trust thee," she said, and she took his firm strong hand into her own white wasted one. "But will thy father consent? Thou art his eldest son and heir."

"He loves her like his own daughter. My brother may have the lands."

"'Tis strange," said Mary, "that in wedding a princess, 'tis no crown, no kingdom, that is set before thee, only the loss of thine own inheritance. For now that the poor child has made herself known to Elizabeth, there will be no safety for her between these seas. I have considered it well. I had thought of sending her abroad with my French servants, and making her known to my kindred there. That would have been well if she could have accepted the true faith, or if—if her heart had not been thine; but to have sent her as she is would only expose her to persecution, and she hath not the mounting spirit that would cast aside love for the sake of rising. She lived too long with thy mother to be aught save a homely Cis. I would have made a princess of her, but it passes my powers. Nay, the question is, whether it may yet be possible to prevent the Queen from laying hands on her."

"My father is still here," said Humfrey, "and I deem not that any orders have come respecting her. Might not he crave permission to take her home, that is, if she will leave your Grace?"

"I will lay my commands on her! It is well thought of," said the Queen. "How soon canst thou have speech with him?"

"He is very like to come to my post," said Humfrey, "and then we can walk the gallery and talk unheard."

"It is well. Let him make his demand, and I will have her ready to depart as early as may be to-morrow morn. Bourgoin, I would ask thee to call the maiden hither."

Cicely appeared from the apartment where she had been sitting with the other ladies.

"Child," said the Queen, as she came in, "is thy mind set on wedding an archduke?"

"Marriage is not for me, madam," said Cicely, perplexed and shaken by this strange address and by Humfrey's presence.

"Nay, didst not once tell me of a betrothal now many years ago? What wouldst say if thine own mother were to ratify it?"

"Ah! madam," said Cicely, blushing crimson however, "but I pledged myself never to wed save with Queen Elizabeth's consent."

"On one condition," said the Queen. "But if that condition were not observed by the other party—"

"How—what, mother!" exclaimed Cicely, with a scream. "There is no fear—Humfrey, have you heard aught?"

"Nothing is certain," said Mary, calmly. "I ask thee not to break thy word. I ask thee, if thou wert free to marry, if thou wouldst be an Austrian or Lorraine duchess, or content thee with an honest English youth whose plighted word is more precious to him than gold."

"O mother, how can you ask?" said Cicely, dropping down, and hiding her face in the Queen's lap.

"Then, Humfrey Talbot, I give her to thee, my child, my Bride of Scotland. Thou wilt guard her, and shield her, and for thine own sake as well as hers, save her from the wrath and jealousy of Elizabeth. Hark, hark! Rise, my child. They are presenting arms. We shall have Paulett in anon to convey my rere-supper."

They had only just time to compose themselves before Paulett came in, looking, as they all thought, grimmer and more starched than ever, and not well pleased to find Humfrey there, but the Queen was equal to the occasion.

"Here is Dr. Bourgoin's list of the herbs that he needs to ease my aches," she said. "Master Talbot is so good as to say that, being properly instructed, he will go in search of them."

"They will not be needed," said Paulett, but he spoke no farther to the Queen. Outside, however, he said to Humfrey, "Young man, you do not well to waste the Sabbath evening in converse with that blinded woman;" and meeting Mr. Talbot himself on the stair, he said, "You are going in quest of your son, sir. You would do wisely to admonish him that he will bring himself into suspicion, if not worse, by loitering amid the snares and wiles of the woman whom wrath is even now overtaking."

Richard found his son pacing the gallery, almost choked with agitation, and with the endeavour to conceal it from the two stolid, heavy yeomen who dozed behind the screen. Not till he had reached the extreme end did Humfrey master his voice enough to utter in his father's ear, "She has given her to me!"

Richard could not answer for a moment, then he said, "I fear me it will be thy ruin, Humfrey."

"Not ruin in love or faithfulness," said the youth. "Father, you know I should everywhere have followed her and watched over her, even to the death, even if she could never have been mine."

"I trow thou wouldst," said Richard.

"Nor would you have it otherwise—your child, your only daughter, to be left unguarded."

"Nay, I know not that I would," said Richard. "I cannot but care for the poor maid like mine own, and I would not have thee less true-hearted, Humfrey, even though it cost thee thine home, and us our eldest son."

"You have Diccon and Ned," said Humfrey. And then he told what had passed, and his father observed that Beale had evidently no knowledge of Cicely's conference with the Queen, and apparently no orders to seize her. It had oozed out that a commission had been sent to five noblemen to come and superintend the execution, since Sir Amias Paulett had again refused to let it take place without witnesses, and Richard undertook to apply at once to Sir Amias for permission to remove his daughter, on the ground of saving her tender youth from the shock.

"Then," said he, "I will leave a token at Nottingham where I have taken her; whether home or at once to Hull. If I leave Brown Roundle at the inn for thee, then come home; but if it be White Blossom, then come to Hull. It will be best that thou dost not know while here, and I cannot go direct to Hull, because the fens at this season may not be fit for riding. Heatherthwayte will need no proofs to convince him that she is not thy sister, and can wed you at once, and you will also be able to embark in case there be any endeavour to arrest her."

"Taking service in Holland," said Humfrey, "until there may be safety in returning to England."

Richard sighed. The risk and sacrifice were great, and it was to him like the loss of two children, but the die was cast; Humfrey never could be other than Cicely's devoted champion and guardian, and it was better that it should be as her husband. So he repaired to Sir Amias, and told him that he desired not to expose his daughter's tender years and feeble spirits to the sight of the Queen's death, and claimed permission to take her away with him the next day, saying that the permission of the Queen had already been granted through his son, whom he would gladly also take with him.

Paulett hemmed and hawed. He thought it a great error in Mr. Talbot to avoid letting his daughter be edified by a spectacle that might go far to moderate the contagion of intercourse with so obstinate a Papist and deceiver. Being of pitiless