"Yes, I must," answered Patience. "You are old enough to understand now, Agnes, that I owe it to your father's honour to show you to the world as his child, the heiress of the De Lisles. There is no need now to hide it; if the queen has sent for me it is because she is of the same mind." With that she broke the seal and read the queen's letter.
It contained an express command for her to come to London and bring the child, Agnes De Lisle, with her, with all the papers necessary to prove her father's marriage with Agnes Beaumont, and her own birth.
"But I do not care," said Agnes. "I do not want to go; I am quite happy here."
"We are what we are born," said Patience. "Have you forgotten your catechism, 'to do your duty in that state of life in which it has pleased God to place you'? We will go to London, Agnes, and come back here if we can, my child."
Then Agnes threw herself face downwards on the table and sobbed her heart out. Patience herself was as white as the linen which lay before her, but she never swerved from what she believed to be right. That, too, was her nature; she gave no thought to her own likings or dislikings. Young as she had been when her sister died, all these years she had lived for her child and her duty. She sat quietly waiting till Agnes's storm of sobs should cease. Upon this scene the vicar entered.
He was evidently very serious and very much troubled. Patience looked up as he entered and their eyes met for one second, then she looked away, and a faint flush coloured her face. He went up to Agnes.
"My little girl," he said, "why this great grief?"
"The queen has ordered us to London," said Patience. "She must have divined our hiding-place, or someone must have told her, and she has bidden me take Agnes with me."
"Well, of course you must go," said the vicar; "what is there so very terrible in this, Agnes? I have heard you say you loved the queen well, and her daughter too."
"So I did," said Agnes, "but all that is past like a dream. I have been so happy here."