"Because he saw, or thought he saw, Humfrey and Cis riding home with you, sir, and so thought all was over with the Queen of Scots. My Lady, they say, had one of her shrieking fits, and my Lord sent down to ask whether I knew aught; and when he found that I did not, would have me go home at once to bid you come up immediately to the Manor; and before I had gotten out Dapple, there comes another message to say that, in as brief space as it will take to saddle them, there will be beasts here to bring up you and my mother and Cis, to tell my Lady Countess all that has befallen."
Cis's countenance so changed that kind Susan said, "I will make thine excuses to my Lady. Thou art weary and ill at ease, and I cannot have thee set forth at once again."
"The Queen would never have sent such sudden and hasty orders," said Cicely. "Mother, can you not stay with me?—I have so much to say to you, and my time is short."
The Talbots were, however, too much accustomed to obedience to the peremptory commands of their feudal chiefs to venture on such disobedience. Susan's proposal had been a great piece of audacity, on which she would hardly have ventured but for her consciousness that the maiden was no Talbot at all.
Yet to Cis the dear company of her mother Susan, even in the Countess's society, seemed too precious to be resigned, and she had likewise been told that Lady Shrewsbury's mind had greatly changed towards Mary, and that since the irritation of the captive's presence had been removed, she remembered only the happier and kindlier portion of their past intercourse. There had been plenty of quarrels with her husband, but none so desperate as before, and at this present time the Earl and Countess were united against the surviving sons, who, with Gilbert at their head, were making large demands on them. Cicely felt grateful to the Earl for his absence from Fotheringhay, and, though disappointed of her peaceful home evening, declared she would come up to the Lodge rather than lose sight of "mother." The stable people, more considerate than their Lord and Lady, proved to have sent a horse litter for the conveyance of the ladies called out on the wet dark October evening, and here it was that Cis could enjoy her first precious moment of privacy with one for whom she had so long yearned. Susan rejoiced in the heavy lumbering conveyance as a luxury, sparing the maiden's fatigue, and she was commencing some inquiries into the indisposition which had procured this holiday, when Cicely broke in, "O mother, nothing aileth me. It is not for that cause—but oh! mother, I am to go to see Queen Elizabeth, and strive with her for her—for my mother's life and freedom."
"Thou! poor little maid. Doth thy father—what am I saying? Doth my husband know?"
"Oh yes. He will take me. He saith it is my duty."
"Then it must be well," said Susan in an altered voice on hearing this. "From whom came the proposal?"
"I made it," said Cicely in a low, feeble voice on the verge of tears. "Oh, dear mother, thou wilt not tell any one how faint of heart I am? I did mean it in sooth, but I never guessed how dreadful it would grow now I am pledged to it."
"Thou art pledged, then, and canst not falter?"