The two stood looking at the building in silence. As the moments passed the lights disappeared from the windows, darkness settled over the tower, and all was quiet. Francis drew a long breath of relief.
“It was unthinking and unheeding in me to throw the light,” she said. “What if the building had burned? The castle might have followed and thus endangered the life of the queen. Oh, miserable girl that I am! What would my father say to me?”
“Be not so cast down,” comforted Edward. “Thou hadst great provocation, and pardon me, mistress, but thy temper is not of the gentlest.”
“I know,” said Francis with unwonted meekness. “But when I saw my hair, my pretty hair,” she paused, her utterance choked, unwilling to give way to her grief before him.
The boy touched the shorn head compassionately.
“’Twill not be long before it will grow again,” he said. “And so long as thou must 181 wear that garb it will be all the better. I have seen many longing glances cast at thy locks, Francis. ’Tis wonder that such mishap hath not occurred before. If thou dost not wear them, thou hast at least put it out of their power to grace the head of another. There is something in that.”
“Yes;” said Francis with a flash of spirit. “I would not that harm should come to the palace, yet glad am I that the tresses were consumed. Thou hast been kind to me, Master Devereaux. And yet thou art mine enemy!”
“Better an open enemy than a deceitful friend,” quoth Edward sententiously. “Say no more, Francis Stafford. If I have been of service to thee, let it in some measure atone for my churlishness in killing that deer. But we must to our several abodes else we shall bring the displeasure of my lord chamberlain upon us. We shall have enough to answer to this charge. I fear the issue to-morrow. Come!”