Unknown to History: A Story of the Captivity of Mary of Scotland

by Charlotte M. Yonge

  CHAPTER XVI.

  THE PEAK CAVERN.

  It was quite true that at this period Queen Mary had good hope ofliberation in the most satisfactory manner possible--short of beinghailed as English Queen. Negotiations were actually on foot with JamesVI. and Elizabeth for her release. James had written to her with hisown hand, and she had for the first time consented to give him thetitle of King of Scotland. The project of her reigning jointly withhim had been mooted, and each party was showing how enormous acondescension it would be in his or her eyes! Thus there was no greatunlikelihood that there would be a recognition of the Lady Bride, andthat she would take her position as the daughter of a queen.Therefore, when Mary contrived to speak to Master Richard Talbot andhis wife in private, she was able to thank them with graciouscondescension for the care they had bestowed in rearing her daughter,much as if she had voluntarily entrusted the maiden to them, saying shetrusted to be in condition to reward them.

  Mistress Susan's heart swelled high with pain, as though she had beenthanked for her care of Humfrey or Diccon, and her husband answered."We seek no reward, madam. The damsel herself, while she was ours, wasreward enough."

  "And I must still entreat, that of your goodness you will let herremain yours for a little longer," said Mary, with a touch of imperiousgrace, "until this treaty is over, and I am free, it is better that shecontinues to pass for your daughter. The child herself has sworn to meby her great gods," said Mary, smiling with complimentary grace, "thatyou will preserve her secret--nay, she becomes a little fury when Iexpress my fears lest you should have scruples."

  "No, madam, this is no state secret; such as I might not with honourconceal," returned Richard.

  "There is true English sense!" exclaimed Mary. "I may then count onyour giving my daughter the protection of your name and your home untilI can reclaim her and place her in her true position. Yea, and if yourconcealment should give offence, and bring you under any displeasure ofmy good sister, those who have so saved and tended my daughter willhave the first claim to whatever I can give when restored to mykingdom."

  "We are much beholden for your Grace's favour," said Richard, somewhatstiffly, "but I trust never to serve any land save mine own."

  "Ah! there is your fierete," cried Mary. "Happy is my sister to havesubjects with such a point of honour. Happy is my child to have beenbred up by such parents!"

  Richard bowed. It was all a man could do at such a speech, and Maryfurther added, "She has told me to what bounds went your goodness toher. It is well that you acted so prudently that the children's heartswere not engaged; for, as we all know but too well royal blood shouldhave no heart."

  "I am quite aware of it, madam," returned Richard, and there for thetime the conversation ended. The Queen had been most charming, full ofgratitude, and perfectly reasonable in her requests, and yet there wassome flaw in the gratification of both, even while neither thought thedisappointment would go very hard with their son. Richard could neverdivest himself of the instinctive prejudice with which soft wordsinspire men of his nature, and Susan's maternal heart was all in revoltagainst the inevitable, not merely grieving over the wrench to heraffections, but full of forebodings and misgivings as to the futurewelfare of her adopted child. Even if the brightest hopes should befulfilled; the destiny of a Scottish princess did not seem to Southerneyes very brilliant at the best, and whether poor Bride Hepburn mightbe owned as a princess at all was a doubtful matter, since, if herfather lived (and he had certainly been living in 1577 in Norway), boththe Queen and the Scottish people would be agreed in repudiating themarriage. Any way, Susan saw every reason to fear for the happinessand the religion alike of the child to whom she had given a mother'slove. Under her grave, self-contained placid demeanour, perhaps DameSusan was the most dejected of those at Buxton. The captive Queen hadher hopes of freedom and her newly found daughter, who was as yet onlya pleasure, and not an encumbrance to her, the Earl had been assuredthat his wife's slanders had been forgotten. He was secure of hissovereign's favour, and permitted to see the term of his wearyjailorship, and thus there was an unusual liveliness and cheerfulnessabout the whole sojourn at Buxton, where, indeed, there was always moreor less of a holiday time.

  To Cis herself, her nights were like a perpetual fairy tale, and soindeed were all times when she was alone with the initiated, who wereindeed all those original members of her mother's suite who had knownof her birth at Lochleven, people who had kept too many periloussecrets not to be safely entrusted with this one, and whose finishedhabits of caution, in a moment, on the approach of a stranger, wouldchange their manner from the deferential courtesy due to theirprincess, to the good-natured civility of court ladies to little CicelyTalbot.

  Dame Susan had been gratified at first by the young girl's sincereassurances of unchanging affection and allegiance, and, in truth, Cishad clung the most to her with the confidence of a whole life'sdanghterhood, but as the days went on, and every caress and token ofaffection imaginable was lavished upon the maiden, every splendidaugury held out to her of the future, and every story of the pastdetailed the charms of Mary's court life in France, seen through thevista of nearly twenty sadly contrasted years, it was in the verynature of things that Cis should regard the time spent perforce withMistress Talbot much as a petted child views its return to the strictnurse or governess from the delights of the drawing-room. She liked todazzle the homely housewife with the wonderful tales of Frenchgaieties, or the splendid castles in the air she had heard in theQueen's rooms, but she resented the doubt and disapproval theysometimes excited; she was petulant and fractious at any exercise ofauthority from her foster-mother, and once or twice went near to betrayherself by lapsing into a tone towards her which would have broughtdown severe personal chastisement on any real daughter even ofseventeen. It was well that the Countess and her sharp-eyed daughterMary were out of sight, as the sight of such "cockering of a malapertmaiden" would have led to interference that might have brought mattersto extremity. Yet, with all the forbearance thus exercised, Susancould not but feel that the girl's love was being weaned from her; and,after all, how could she complain, since it was by the true mother? Ifonly she could have hoped it was for the dear child's good, it wouldnot have been so hard! But the trial was a bitter one, and not evenher husband guessed how bitter it was.

  The Queen meantime improved daily in health and vigour in the splendidsummer weather. The rheumatism had quitted her, and she daily rode andplayed at Trowle Madame for hours after supper in the long bright Julyevenings. Cis, whose shoulder was quite well, played with greatdelight on the greensward, where one evening she made acquaintance witha young esquire and his sisters from the neighbourhood, who had comewith their father to pay their respects to my Lord Earl, as the head ofall Hallamshire. The Earl, though it was not quite according to therecent stricter rules, ventured to invite them to stay to sup with thehousehold, and afterwards they came out with the rest upon the lawn.

  Cis was walking between the young lad and his sister, laughing andtalking with much animation, for she had not for some time enjoyed thepleasure of free intercourse with any of her fellow-denizens in thehappy land of youth.

  Dame Susan watched her with some uneasiness, and presently saw hertaking them where she herself was privileged to go, but strangers werenever permitted to approach, on the Trowle Madame sward reserved forthe Queen, on which she was even now entering.

  "Cicely!" she called, but the young lady either did not or would nothear, and she was obliged to walk hastily forward, meet the party, andwith courteous excuses turn them back from the forbidden ground. Theysubmitted at once, apologising, but Cis, with a red spot on her cheek,cried, "The Queen would take no offence."

  "That is not the matter in point, Cicely," said Dame Susan gravely."Master and Mistress Eyre understand that we are bound to obedience tothe Earl."

  Master Eyre, a well-bred young gentleman, made reply that he well knewthat no discourtesy was intended, but Cis pouted and muttered,evi
dently to the extreme amazement of Mistress Alice Eyre; and DameSusan, to divert her attention, began to ask about the length of theirride, and the way to their home.

  Cis's ill humour never lasted long, and she suddenly broke in, "Omother, Master Eyre saith there is a marvellous cavern near hisfather's house, all full of pendants from the roof like a minster, andgreat sheeted tables and statues standing up, all grand and ghostly onthe floor, far better than in this Pool's Hole. He says his fatherwill have it lighted up if we will ride over and see it."

  "We are much beholden to Master Eyre," said Susan, but Cis read refusalin her tone, and began to urge her to consent.

  "It must be as my husband wills," was the grave answer, and at the sametime, courteously, but very decidedly, she bade the strangers farewell,and made her daughter do the same, though Cis was inclined toresistance, and in a somewhat defiant tone added, "I shall not forgetyour promise, sir. I long to see the cave."

  "Child, child," entreated Susan, as soon as they were out of hearing,"be on thy guard. Thou wilt betray thyself by such conduct towards me."

  "But, mother, they did so long to see the Queen, and there would havebeen no harm in it. They are well affected, and the young gentleman isa friend of poor Master Babington."

  "Nay, Cis, that is further cause that I should not let them passonward. I marvel not at thee, my maid, but thou and thy mother queenmust bear in mind that while thou passest for our daughter, and hasttrust placed in thee, thou must do nothing to forfeit it or bring thyfa--, Master Richard I mean, into trouble."

  "I meant no harm," said Cis; rather crossly.

  "Thou didst not, but harm may be done by such as mean it the least."

  "Only, mother, sweet mother," cried the girl, childlike, set upon herpleasure, "I will be as good as can be. I will transgress in nought ifonly thou wilt get my father to take me to see Master Eyre's cavern."

  She was altogether the home daughter again in her eagerness, entreatingand promising by turns with the eager curiosity of a young girl bent onan expedition, but Richard was not to be prevailed on. He had little orno acquaintance with the Eyre family, and to let them go to the costand trouble of lighting up the cavern for the young lady's amusementwould be like the encouragement of a possible suit, which would havebeen a most inconvenient matter. Richard did not believe the younggentleman had warrant from his father in giving this invitation, and ifhe had, that was the more reason for declining it. The Eyres, thenholding the royal castle of the Peak, were suspected of being secretlyRoman Catholics, and though the Earl could not avoid hospitably biddingthem to supper, the less any Talbot had to do with them the better, andfor the present Cis must be contented to be reckoned as one.

  So she had to put up with her disappointment, and she did not do sowith as good a grace as she would have shown a year ago. Nay, shecarried it to Queen Mary, who at night heard her gorgeous descriptionof the wonders of the cavern, which grew in her estimation inproportion to the difficulty of seeing them, and sympathised with herdisappointment at the denial.

  "Nay, thou shalt not be balked," said Mary, with the old queenly habitof having her own way. "Prisoner as I am, I will accomplish this. Mydaughter shall have her wish."

  So on the ensuing morning, when the Earl came to pay his respects, Maryassailed him with, "There is a marvellous cavern in these parts, myLord, of which I hear great wonders."

  "Does your grace mean Pool's Hole?"

  "Nay, nay, my Lord. Have I not been conducted through it by Dr. Jones,and there writ my name for his delectation? This is, I hear, as apalace compared therewith."

  "The Peak Cavern, Madam!" said Lord Shrewsbury, with the distaste ofmiddle age for underground expeditions, "is four leagues hence, and adark, damp, doleful den, most noxious for your Grace's rheumatism."

  "Have you ever seen it, my Lord?"

  "No, verily," returned his lordship with a shudder.

  "Then you will be edified yourself, my Lord, if you will do me thegrace to escort me thither," said Mary, with the imperious suavity shewell knew how to adopt.

  "Madam, madam," cried the unfortunate Earl, "do but consult yourphysicians. They will tell you that all the benefits of the Buxtonwaters will be annulled by an hour in yonder subterranean hole."

  "I have heard of it from several of my suite," replied Mary, "and theytell me that the work of nature on the lime-droppings is so marvellousthat I shall not rest without a sight of it. Many have been instantwith me to go and behold the wondrous place."

  This was not untrue, but she had never thought of gratifying them inher many previous visits to Buxton. The Earl found himself obligedeither to utter a harsh and unreasonable refusal, or to organise anexpedition which he personally disliked extremely, and moreoverdistrusted, for he did not in the least believe that Queen Mary wouldbe so set upon gratifying her curiosity about stalactites without someulterior motive. He tried to set on Dr. Jones to persuade MessieursGorion and Bourgoin, her medical attendants, that the cave would befatal to her rheumatism, but it so happened that the Peak Cavern wasDr. Jones's favourite lion, the very pride of his heart. Pool's Holewas dear to him, but the Peak Cave was far more precious, and the veryidea of the Queen of Scots honouring it with her presence, and leavingbehind her the flavour of her name, was so exhilarating to the littleman that if the place had been ten times more damp he would havevouched for its salubrity. Moreover, he undertook that fumigations offragrant woods should remove all peril of noxious exhalations, so thatthe Earl was obliged to give his orders that Mr. Eyre should berequested to light up the cave, and heartily did he grumble and pourforth his suspicions and annoyance to his cousin Richard.

  "And I," said the good sailor, "felt it hard not to be able to tell himthat all was for the freak of a silly damsel."

  Mistress Cicely laughed a little triumphantly. It was something likebeing a Queen's daughter to have been the cause of making my Lordhimself bestir himself against his will. She had her own way, andmight well be good-humoured. "Come, dear sir father," she said, comingup to him in a coaxing, patronising way, which once would have beenquite alien to them both, "be not angered. You know nobody meanstreason! And, after all, 'tis not I but you that are the cause of allthe turmoil. If you would but have ridden soberly out with your poorlittle Cis, there would have been no coil, but my Lord might have pacedstately and slow up and down the terrace-walk undisturbed."

  "Ah, child, child!" said Susan, vexed, though her husband could nothelp smiling at the arch drollery of the girl's tone and manner, "donot thou learn light mockery of all that should be honoured."

  "I am not bound to honour the Earl," said Cis, proudly.

  "Hush, hush!" said Richard. "I have allowed thee unchecked too long,maiden. Wert thou ten times what thou art, it would not give thee theright to mock at the gray-haired, highly-trusted noble, the head of thename thou dost bear."

  "And the torment of her whom I am most bound to love," broke fromCicely petulantly.

  Richard's response to this sally was to rise up, make the young ladythe lowest possible reverence, with extreme and displeased gravity, andthen to quit the room. It brought the girl to her bearings at once."Oh, mother, mother, how have I displeased him?"

  "I trow thou canst not help it, child," said Susan, sadly; "but it ishard that thou shouldst bring home to us how thine heart and thineobedience are parted from us."

  The maiden was in a passion of tears at once, vowing that she meant nosuch thing, that she loved and obeyed them as much as ever, and that ifonly her father would forgive her she would never wish to go near thecavern. She would beg the Queen to give up the plan at once, if onlySir Richard would be her good father as before.

  Susan looked at her sadly and tenderly, but smiled, and said that whathad been lightly begun could not now be dropped, and that she trustedCis would be happy in the day's enjoyment, and remember to behaveherself as a discreet maiden. "For truly," said she, "so far fromdiscretion being to be despised by Queen's daughters, the higher theestate the
greater the need thereof."

  This little breeze did not prevent Cicely from setting off in highspirits, as she rode near the Queen, who declared that she wanted toenjoy _through_ the merry maiden, and who was herself in a gay andjoyous mood, believing that the term of her captivity was in sight,delighted with her daughter, exhilarated by the fresh breezes and rapidmotion, and so mirthful that she could not help teasing and banteringthe Earl a little, though all in the way of good-humoured grace.

  The ride was long, about eight miles; but though the Peak Castle was aroyal one, the Earl preferred not to enter it, but, according toprevious arrangement, caused the company to dismount in the valley, orrather ravine, which terminates in the cavern, where a repast wasspread on the grass. It was a wonderful place, cool and refreshing,for the huge rocks on either side cast a deep shadow, seldom pierced bythe rays of the sun. Lofty, solemn, and rich in dark reds and purples,rose the walls of rock, here and there softened by tapestry of ivy orprojecting bushes of sycamore, mountain ash, or with fruit alreadyassuming its brilliant tints, and jackdaws flying in and out of theirholes above. Deep beds of rich ferns clothed the lower slopes, andsheets of that delicate flower, the enchanter's nightshade, reared itswhite blossoms down to the bank of a little clear stream that cameflowing from out of the mighty yawning arch of the cavern, while abovethe precipice rose sheer the keep of Peak Castle.

  The banquet was gracefully arranged to suit the scene, and comprised,besides more solid viands, large bowls of milk, with strawberries orcranberries floating in them. Mr. Eyre, the keeper of the castle, andhis daughter did the honours, while his son superintended the lightingand fumigation of the cavern, assisted, if not directed by Dr. Jones,whose short black cloak and gold-headed cane were to be seen almosteverywhere at once.

  Presently clouds of smoke began to issue from the vast archway thatclosed the ravine. "Beware, my maidens," said the Queen, merrily, "wehave roused the dragon in his den, and we shall see him come forthanon, curling his tail and belching flame."

  "With a marvellous stomach for a dainty maiden or two," added GilbertCurll, falling into her humour.

  "Hark! Good lack!" cried the Queen, with an affectation of terror, asa most extraordinary noise proceeded from the bowels of the cavern,making Cis start and Marie de Courcelles give a genuine shriek.

  "Your Majesty is pleased to be merry," said the Earl, ponderously. "Thesound is only the coughing of the torchbearers from the damp whereof Iwarned your Majesty."

  "By my faith," said Mary, "I believe my Lord Earl himself fears themonster of the cavern, to whom he gives the name of Damp. Dreadnothing, my Lord; the valorous knight Sir Jones is even now in conflictwith the foul worm, as those cries assure me, being in fact caused byhis fumigations."

  The jest was duly received, and in the midst of the laughter, youngEyre came forward, bowing low, and holding his jewelled hat in hishand, while his eyes betrayed that he had recently been sneezingviolently.

  "So please your Majesty," he said, "the odour hath rolled away, and allis ready if you will vouchsafe to accept my poor guidance."

  "How say you, my Lord?" said Mary. "Will you dare the lair of theconquered foe, or fear you to be pinched with aches and pains by hislurking hobgoblins? If so, we dispense with your attendance."

  "Your Majesty knows that where she goes thither I am bound to attendher," said the rueful Earl.

  "Even into the abyss!" said Mary. "Valiantly spoken, for have notAriosto and his fellows sung of captive princesses for whom every caveheld an enchanter who could spirit them away into vapour thin as air,and leave their guardians questing in vain for them?"

  "Your Majesty jests with edged tools," sighed the Earl.

  Old Mr. Eyre was too feeble to act as exhibitor of the cave, and hisson was deputed to lead the Queen forward. This was, of course, LordShrewsbury's privilege, but he was in truth beholden to her fingers foraid, as she walked eagerly forward, now and then accepting a littlehelp from John Eyre, but in general sure-footed and exploring eagerlyby the light of the numerous torches held by yeomen in the Eyre livery,one of whom was stationed wherever there was a dangerous pass or afreak of nature worth studying.

  The magnificent vaulted roof grew lower, and presently it becamenecessary to descend a staircase, which led to a deep hollow chamber,shaped like a bell, and echoing like one. A pool of intensely blackwater filled it, reflecting the lights on its surface, that onlyenhanced its darkness, while there moved on a mysterious flat-bottomedboat, breaking them into shimmering sparks, and John Eyre intimatedthat the visitors must lie down flat in it to be ferried one by oneover a space of about fourteen yards.

  "Your Majesty will surely not attempt it," said the Earl, with ashudder.

  "Wherefore not? It is but a foretaste of Charon's boat!" said Mary,who was one of those people whose spirit of enterprise rises with theoccasion, and she murmured to Mary Seaton the line of Dante--

  "Quando noi fermerem li nostri passi Su la triate riviera a' Acheronte."

  "Will your Majesty enter?" asked John Eyre. "Dr. Jones and somegentlemen wait on the other side to receive you."

  "Some gentlemen?" repeated Mary. "You are sure they are not Minos andRhadamanthus, sir? My obolus is ready; shall I put it in my mouth?"

  "Nay, madam, pardon me," said the Earl, spurred by a miserable sense ofhis duties; "since you will thus venture, far be it from me to let youpass over until I have reached the other aide to see that it is fit foryour Majesty!"

  "Even as you will, most devoted cavalier," said Mary, drawing back; "wewill be content to play the part of the pale ghosts of the unburieddead a little longer. See, Mary, the boat sinks down with him and hismortal flesh! We shall have Charon complaining of him anon."

  "Your Highness gars my flesh grue," was the answer of her faithful Mary.

  "Ah, ma mie! we have not left all hope behind. We can afford to smileat the doleful knight, ferried o'er on his back, in duteous and loyalsubmission to his task mistress. Child, Cicely, where art thou? Artafraid to dare the black river?"

  "No, madam, not with you on the other side, and my father to follow me."

  "Well said. Let the maiden follow next after me. Or mayhap MasterEyre should come next, then the young lady. For you, my ladies, andyou, good sirs, you are free to follow or not, as the fancy strikesyou. So--here is Charon once more--must I lie down?"

  "Ay, madam," said Eyre, "if you would not strike your head againstyonder projecting rock."

  Mary lay down, her cloak drawn about her, and saying, "Now then, forAcheron. Ah! would that it were Lethe!"

  "Her Grace saith well," muttered faithful Jean Kennedy, unversed inclassic lore, "would that we were once more at bonnie Leith. Softthere now, 'tis you that follow her next, my fair mistress."

  Cicely, not without trepidation, obeyed, laid herself flat, and wassoon midway, feeling the passage so grim and awful, that she couldthink of nothing but the dark passages of the grave, and was shudderingall over, when she was helped out on the other side by the Queen's ownhand.

  Some of those in the rear did not seem to be similarly affected, orelse braved their feelings of awe by shouts and songs, which echoedfearfully through the subterranean vaults. Indeed Diccon, followingthe example of one or two young pages and grooms of the Earl's, beganto get so daring and wild in the strange scene, that his father becameanxious, and tarried for him on the other side, in the dread of hiswandering away and getting lost, or falling into some of the fearfuldark rivers that could be heard--not seen--rushing along. By thismeans, Master Richard was entirely separated from Cicely, to whom,before crossing the water, he had been watchfully attending, but heknew her to be with the Queen and her ladies, and considered hernatural timidity the best safeguard against the chief peril of thecave, namely, wandering away.

  Cicely did, however, miss his care, for the Queen could not but beengrossed by her various cicerones and attendants, and it was no one'sespecial business to look after the young girl over the rough de
scentto the dripping well called Roger Rain's House, and the grandcathedral-like gallery, with splendid pillars of stalagmite, andpendants above. By the time the steps beyond were reached, a toilsomedescent, the Queen had had enough of the expedition, and declined to goany farther, but she good-naturedly yielded to the wish of Master JohnEyre and Dr. Jones, that she would inscribe her name on the farthestcolumn that she had reached.

  There was a little confusion while this was being done, as some of themore enterprising wished to penetrate as far as possible into therecesses of the cave, and these were allowed to pass forward--Dicconand his father among them. In the passing and repassing, Cicelyentirely lost sight of all who had any special care of her, and wentstumbling on alone, weary, frightened, and repenting of the wilfulnesswith which she had urged on the expedition. Each of the other ladieshad some cavalier to help her, but none had fallen to Cicely's lot, andthough, to an active girl, there was no real danger where thetorchbearers lined the way, still there was so much difficulty that shewas a laggard in reaching the likeness of Acheron, and could see nofather near as she laid herself down in Charon's dismal boat, dimlyrejoicing that this time it was to return to the realms of day, and yetfeeling as if she should never reach them. A hand was given to assisther from the boat by one of the torchbearers, a voice strangelyfamiliar was in her ears, saying, "Mistress Cicely!" and she knew theeager eyes, and exclaimed under her breath, "Antony, you here? Inhiding? What have you done?"

  "Nothing," he answered, smiling, and holding her hand, as he helped herforward. "I only put on this garb that I might gaze once more on themost divine and persecuted of queens, and with some hope likewise thatI might win a word with her who deigned once to be my playmate. Lady, Iknow the truth respecting you."

  "Do you in very deed?" demanded Cicely, considerably startled.

  "I know your true name, and that you are none of the mastiff race,"said Antony.

  "Did--did Tibbott tell you, sir?" asked Cicely.

  "You are one of us," said Antony; "bound by natural allegiance in theland of your birth to this lady."

  "Even so," said Cis, here becoming secure of what she had beforedoubted, that Babington only knew half the truth he referred to.

  "And you see and speak with her privily," he added.

  "As Bess Pierrepoint did," said she.

  These words passed during the ascent, and were much interrupted by thedifficulties of the way, in which Antony rendered such aid that she waseach moment more impelled to trust to him, and relieved to find herselfin such familiar hands. On reaching the summit the light of day couldbe seen glimmering in the extreme distance, and the maiden's heartbounded at the sight of it; but she found herself led somewhat aside,where in a sort of side aisle of the great bell chamber were standingtogether four more of the torch-bearers.

  One of them, a slight man, made a step forward and said, "The Queenhath dropped her kerchief. Mayhap the young gentlewoman will restoreit?"

  "She will do more than that!" said Antony, drawing her into the midstof them. "Dost not know her, Langston? She is her sacred Majesty'sown born, true, and faithful subject, the Lady--"

  "Hush, my friend; thou art ever over outspoken with thy names,"returned the other, evidently annoyed at Babington's imprudence.

  "I tell thee, she is one of us," replied Antony impatiently. "How isthe Queen to know of her friends if we name them not to her?"

  "Are these her friends?" asked Cicely, looking round on the fivefigures in the leathern coats and yeomen's heavy buskins and shoes, andespecially at the narrow face and keen pale eyes of Langston.

  "Ay, verily," said one, whom Cicely could see even under his disguiseto be a slender, graceful youth. "By John Eyre's favour have we cometogether here to gaze on the true and lawful mistress of our hearts,the champion of our faith, in her martyrdom." Then taking the kerchieffrom Langston's hand, Babington kissed it reverently, and tore it intofive pieces, which he divided among himself and his fellows, saying,"This fair mistress shall bear witness to her sacred Majesty thatwe--Antony Babington, Chidiock Tichborne, Cuthbert Langston, JohnCharnock, John Savage--regard her as the sole and lawful Queen ofEngland and Scotland, and that as we have gone for her sake into thelikeness of the valley of the shadow of death, so will we meet deathitself and stain this linen with our best heart's blood rather than notbring her again to freedom and the throne!"

  Then with the most solemn oath each enthusiastically kissed the whitetoken, and put it in his breast, but Langston looked with some alarm atthe girl, and said to Babington, "Doth this young lady understand thatyou have put our lives into her hands?"

  "She knows! she knows! I answer for her with my life," said Antony.

  "Let her then swear to utter no word of what she has seen save to theQueen," said Langston, and Cicely detected a glitter in that pale eye,and with a horrified leap of thought, recollected how easy it would beto drag her away into one of those black pools, beyond all ken.

  "Oh save me, Antony!" she cried clinging to his arm.

  "No one shall touch you. I will guard you with my life!" exclaimed theimpulsive young man, feeling for the sword that was not there.

  "Who spoke of hurting the foolish wench?" growled Savage; but Tichbornesaid, "No one would hurt you, madam; but it is due to us all that youshould give us your word of honour not to disclose what has passed,save to our only true mistress."

  "Oh yes! yes!" cried Cicely hastily, scarcely knowing what passed herlips, and only anxious to escape from that gleaming eye of Langston,which had twice before filled her with a nameless sense of thenecessity of terrified obedience. "Oh! let me go. I hear my father'svoice."

  She sprang forward with a cry between joy and terror, and darted up toRichard Talbot, while Savage, the man who looked most entirely unlike adisguised gentleman, stepped forward, and in a rough, north countrydialect, averred that the young gentlewoman had lost her way.

  "Poor maid," said kind Richard, gathering the two trembling littlehands into one of his own broad ones. "How was it? Thanks, goodfellow," and he dropped a broad piece into Savage's palm; "thou hastdone good service. What, Cis, child, art quaking?"

  "Hast seen any hobgoblins, Cis?" said Diccon, at her other side. "I'msure I heard them laugh."

  "Whist, Dick," said his father, putting a strong arm round the girl'swaist. "See, my wench, yonder is the goodly light of day. We shallsoon be there."

  With all his fatherly kindness, he helped the agitated girl up theremaining ascent, as the lovely piece of blue sky between theretreating rocks grew wider, and the archway higher above them. Cisfelt that infinite repose and reliance that none else could give, yetthe repose was disturbed by the pang of recollection that the secretlaid on her was their first severance. It was unjust to his kindness;strange, doubtful, nay grisly, to her foreboding mind, and she shiveredalike from that and the chill of the damp cavern, and then he drew hercloak more closely about her, and halted to ask for the flask of winewhich one of the adventurous spirits had brought, that QueenElizabeth's health might be drunk by her true subjects in the bowels ofthe earth. The wine was, of course, exhausted; but Dr. Jones bustledforward with some cordial waters which he had provided in case ofanyone being struck with the chill of the cave, and Cicely was made toswallow some.

  By this time she had been missed, and the little party were met by someservants sent by the Earl at the instance of the much-alarmed Queen toinquire for her. A little farther on came Mistress Talbot, in muchanxiety and distress, though as Diccon ran forward to meet her, and shesaw Cicely on her husband's arm, she resumed her calm and staiddemeanour, and when assured that the maiden had suffered no damage, shemade no special demonstrations of joy or affection. Indeed, such wouldhave been deemed unbecoming in the presence of strangers, anddisrespectful to the Queen and the Earl, who were not far off.

  Mary, on the other hand, started up, held out her arms, received thetruant with such vehement kisses, as might almost have betrayed theirreal relationship, and then reproached her, w
ith all sorts of endearingterms, for having so terrified them all; nor would she let the girl gofrom her side, and kept her hand in her own, Diccon meanwhile hadsucceeded in securing his father's attention, which had been whollygiven to Cicely till she was placed in the women's hands. "Father," hesaid, "I wish that one of the knaves with the torches who found our Ciswas the woman with the beads and bracelets, ay, and Tibbott, too."

  "Belike, belike, my son," said Richard. "There are folk who can takeas many forms as a barnacle goose. Keep thou a sharp eye as thefellows pass out, and pull me by the cloak if thou seest him."

  Of course he was not seen, and Richard, who was growing more and morecautious about bringing vague or half-proved suspicions before hisLord, decided to be silent and to watch, though he sighed to his wifethat the poor child would soon be in the web.

  Cis had not failed to recognise that same identity, and to feel ahalf-realised conviction that the Queen had not chosen to confide toher that the two female disguises both belonged to Langston. Yet thecontrast between Mary's endearments and the restrained manner of Susanso impelled her towards the veritable mother, that the compunction asto the concealment she had at first experienced passed away, and herheart felt that its obligations were towards her veritable and mostloving parent. She told the Queen the whole story at night, to Mary'sgreat delight. She said she was sure her little one had something onher mind, she had so little to say of her adventure, and the next day alittle privy council was contrived, in which Cicely was summoned againto tell her tale. The ladies declared they had always hoped much fromtheir darling page, in whom they had kept up the true faith, but SirAndrew Melville shook his head and said: "I'd misdoot ony plot wherethe little finger of him was. What garred the silly loon call in theyoung leddy ere he kenned whether she wad keep counsel?"