As in a dream Francis heard both questions and answers, but did not comprehend their import. Presently her mother spoke:
“Francis, I am dying.”
“Nay;” broke from the girl passionately. “Not now, mother. Not when we have just found each other again. You must not, shall not die.”
“Hush, child! We must not spend the time in woe. I want you to promise me that never again will you be connected with plot against the queen. Promise me.” 269
“She hath killed thee,” burst from Francis wildly. “Killed thee, my mother, and driven my father forth a fugitive. Oh, I hate her! I hate her!”
“Hush, oh hush!” wailed the mother, a look of fear crossing her face as the lieutenant and the physician started forward at the girl’s words. “Good masters, heed her not. She is distraught with grief. I—Francis——”
She threw out her arms and strove to clasp her daughter, but they fell to her side. A swift pallor spread over her face, a gasping, choking sound rattled noisily, and she was dead. For a moment the girl seemed dazed by what had happened, and then she threw herself upon her mother with a wild shriek.
“Mother, mother, speak to me!”
“Thy mother is dead,” said the physician trying to draw her away.
“Touch me not,” she cried in frenzied accents turning upon him so fiercely that involuntarily he recoiled. “Minion! leave me. Leave me with my mother.”