"I think not, madam. Meseems that my Lady Countess hath seen reason to be heedful on that score. My young lady hath come back with a grave gouvernante, who makes her read her primer and sew her seam, and save that she sat next my Lady at the wedding feast there is little difference made between her and the other grandchildren."
The Queen then inquired into the circumstances of the wedding festivities with the interest of one to whom most of the parties were more or less known, and who seldom had the treat of a little feminine gossip. She asked who had been "her little Cis's partner," and when she heard of Babington, she said, "Ah ha, then, the poor youth has made his peace with my Lord?"
"Certes, madam, he is regarded with high favour by both my Lord and my Lady," said Richard, heartily wishing himself rid of his host.
"I rejoice to hear it," said Mary; "I was afraid that his childish knight-errantry towards the captive dame had damaged the poor stripling's prospects for ever. He is our neighbour here, and I believe Sir Ralf regards him as somewhat perilous."
"Nay, madam, if my Lord of Shrewsbury be satisfied with him, so surely ought I to be," said Sir Ralf.
Nothing more of importance passed that night. The packet of accounts was handed over to Sir Andrew Melville, and the two gentlemen dismissed with gracious good-nights.
Richard Talbot was entirely trusted, and when the next morning after prayers, breakfast, and a turn among the stables, it was intimated that the Queen was ready to see him anent my Lord's business, Sir Ralf Sadler, who had his week's report to write to the Council, requested that his presence might be dispensed with, and thus Mr. Talbot was ushered into the Queen's closet without any witnesses to their interview save Sir Andrew Melville and Marie de Courcelles. The Queen was seated in a large chair, leaning against cushions, and evidently in a good deal of pain, but, as Richard made his obeisance, her eyes shone as she quoted two lines from an old Scotch ballad—
"'Madame, how does my gay goss hawk?
Madame, how does my doo?'
Now can I hear what I hunger for!"
"My gay gosshawk, madam, is flown to join Sir Francis Drake at Plymouth, and taken his little brother with him. I come now from speeding them as far as Derby."