“It is in very truth, my child. Thou and I are not concerned in aught but in bearing good news; therefore will I cheer up, sweet chuck, though I am greatly troubled.”
And by an effort he put aside the dire forebodings that filled his soul, and tried to enter into the enjoyment of his daughter who, with the elasticity of youth, had turned to the more cheerful scenes around them.
Frequently he called her attention to some historic spot, or pointed out the beauties of the sylvan landscape. And thus, sometimes in sweet converse in which Francis learned to know her father better than she had ever known him; at others, in long lapses of silence the more eloquent that there was no conversation, and in stopping for rest and refreshment at taverns did the days pass without further incident. Yet though nothing of import transpired, the journey was not without interest to Francis.
Bath, on the right bank of the river Avon, 54 presented a great variety of beautiful landscape; the old city of Gloucester, city of churches and beloved of kings; Tewkesbury, site of the battle between Lancastrians and Yorkists which placed the crown upon the head of Edward the Fourth; Worcester, with its glorious cathedral, filled her with delight. The beauty of the diversified scenery, consisting of hill, vale, forest and river, the numerous remains of Druid, British, Roman, Anglo-Saxon and Norman to which her father called her attention; all these things contributed to her pleasure, and served to banish everything from her mind save the happiness of the moment.
“And now, Francis,” said Lord Stafford on the evening of the fourth day, “yonder lies Stafford, and we are near the end of our travel. Behold, on yon mount, called ‘Castle Hill,’ the place where stood a noble castle built by William the Conqueror. He conferred it upon Robert de Torri who took the name de Stafford from whom, as thou dost well ken, our family hath sprung. Art thou weary, girl?”
“Yes, father, but the journey hath nevertheless 55 been full of delight,” returned Francis brightly though her drooping body spoke of the fatigue by which she was almost overcome. “Yet right glad am I that we are come to Stafford. And on the morrow it may be that I shall see Queen Mary.”
“Mayhap, child. But now put from thee all thought save that of rest. Let the morrow bring what it will, this night shall be devoted to quiet and repose.”
Putting spurs to his horse the tired animal renewed his speed, and they were soon within the gates of the city.