Two or three gentlemen who were walking along the road turned and looked up, and the young sailors recognised in a moment a home face. There was an exclamation on either side of "Antony Babington!" and "Humfrey Talbot!" and a ready clasp of the hand in right of old companionship.
"Welcome home!" exclaimed Antony. "Is all well with you?"
"Royally well," returned Humfrey. "Know'st thou aught of our father and mother?"
"All was well with them when last I heard," said Antony.
"And Cis—my sister I mean?" said Diccon, putting, in his unconsciousness, the very question Humfrey was burning to ask.
"She is still with the Queen of Scots, at Chartley," replied Babington.
"Chartley, where is that? It is a new place for her captivity."
"'Tis a house of my Lord of Essex, not far from Lichfield," returned Antony. "They sent her thither this spring, after they had well-nigh slain her with the damp and wretched lodgings they provided at Tutbury."
"Who? Not our Cis?" asked Diccon.
"Nay," said Antony, "it hurt not her vigorous youth—but I meant the long-suffering princess."