“My lord, we will permit you to retire until you are calmer,” came from the queen.
“Thank her, Francis,” said Lord Stafford leading the girl forward. “Thank our gracious queen who hath shown so much of kindness to us.”
“There, sweetheart!” said Elizabeth as Francis with streaming eyes tried to articulate her gratitude. “’Twill suffice for the present. We like thy spirit, and later will receive thee into service near us. When thou hast donned thy maiden attire we would see thee again. Though, by my faith, if all men would honor the garb as thou hast done, there would be few knaves in the kingdom.”
“And this is Mistress Francis Stafford?” cried Edward Devereaux as, two days later, Francis stood on the banks of the river watching the queen as she embarked for London. “Upon my word, Francis; thy attire well becomes thee.”
“‘Hast thou found me, oh, mine enemy?’” 330 quoth the girl gaily turning a bright face toward him.
“Thine enemy, Francis?” said the youth reproachfully. “I thought that that had passed. After all that we have been through together thou shouldst not call me so.”
“And art thou not mine enemy?” asked she archly. “Nay;” as a pained look crossed his face, “I know that thou art not.”
“And neither art thou mine,” asserted Edward. “Ah, Francis, may not we two bury that old enmity by a union of our families in us? If thy father give consent wilt thou agree also?”
“If my father consent, then so will I also, Edward,” spoke the girl softly, adding saucily—“’tis the only way that I’ll ever get that deer’s horns.”