"So doth Babington," said Humfrey, curtly.
"Ah!" she said, with a little terrified sound of conviction, then added, "What thought you of Master Babington?"
"That he is half-crazed," said Humfrey.
"We may say no more," said Cis, seeing a servant advancing from the house to tell her that the riders were returning. "Shall I see you again, Humfrey?"
"If Sir Amias should invite me to lie here to-night, and remain to-morrow, since it will be Sunday."
"At least I shall see you in the morning, ere you depart," she said, as with unwilling yet prompt steps she returned to the house, Humfrey feeling that she was indeed his little Cis, yet that some change had come over her, not so much altering her, as developing the capabilities he had always seen.
For herself, poor child, her feelings were in a strange turmoil, more than usually conscious of that dual existence which had tormented her ever since she had been made aware of her true birth. Moreover, she had a sense of impending danger and evil, and, by force of contrast, the frank, open-hearted manner of Humfrey made her the more sensible of being kept in the dark as to serious matters, while outwardly made a pet and plaything by her mother, "just like Bijou," as she said to herself.
"So, little one," said Queen Mary, as she returned, "thou hast been revelling once more in tidings of Sheffield! How long will it take me to polish away the dulness of thy clownish contact?"
"Humphrey does not come from home, madam, but from London. Madam, let me tell you in your ear—"
Mary's eye instantly took the terrified alert expression which had come from many a shock and alarm. "What is it, child?" she asked, however, in a voice of affected merriment. "I wager it is that he has found his true Cis. Nay, whisper it to me, if it touch thy silly little heart so deeply."