“My lord, he is no traitor,” cried the girl in despair. “He did wish to release Mary from bondage, for he had compassion on her misery as who hath not? But that he is party to the design to murder the queen, I deny. I know, my lord, I know.” 194
“What do you know? Are you too engaged in conspiracies? I thought thee as innocent as the daisy that grows in thy father’s field.”
“I am in no plots nor conspiracies, sir,” declared Francis. “But we lose time in idle words. Give me thine aid to reach my father, I implore thee.”
“Never, girl! And thou,—thou must be restrained of thy liberty, for I see that thou knowest much of this matter.”
He turned toward the door as he spoke, but Francis was before him.
“My lord,” she said, and there was determination in her manner, “thou shalt not touch me, nor cause others to touch me. Heaven be my witness that I speak truth when I say that my father is innocent of design to murder the queen. I must have means to reach him, and thou must give them to me.”
“Must? Thou useth strange terms, girl! Not only will I not give thee aid, but I will take thee into custody.”
He sprang toward her, but the girl turned upon him fiercely with uplifted dagger. 195
“Lay but one finger upon me, and I will slay thee,” she said in a low intense voice.
“Francis Stafford, this from you?”