This point of the narrative had just been reached when it was interrupted by a scream, and Cicely came flying into the hall, crying, "O father, father, stop them! Humfrey and Mr. Babington! They are killing one another."
"Where?" exclaimed Richard, catching up his sword.
"In the Pleasance, father! Oh, stop them! They will slay one another! They had their swords!" and as the father was already gone, she threw herself into the mother's arms, hid her face and sobbed with fright as scarce became a princess for whom swords were for the first time crossed. "Fear not! Father will stop them," said the mother, with confidence she could only keep up outwardly by the inward cry, "God protect my boy. Father will come ere they can hurt one another."
"But how came it about?" she added, as with an arm round the trembling girl, she moved anxiously forward to know the issue.
"Oh! I know not. 'Twas Humfrey fell on him. Hark!"
"'Tis father's voice," said Susan. "Thank God! I know by the sound no harm is done! But how was it, child?"
Cis told with more coherence now, but the tears in her eyes and colour deepening: "I was taking in Humfrey's kerchiefs from the bleaching on the grass, when Master Babington—he had brought me a plume of pheasant's feathers from the hunting, and he began. O mother, is it sooth? He said my Lord had sent him."
"That is true, my child, but you know we have no choice but to refuse thee."
"Ay, mother, and Antony knows."
"Not thy true birth, child?"