A GLIMPSE OF MARY
Francis' wish of beholding the Queen of Scots was gratified in a most
unexpected manner.
"Do you remain here, my child," said Lord Stafford the next morning. "I
would behold for myself if what I have heard of Mary's keeper, Sir Amyas
Paulet, be true. If he be not so strict as report hath it, access to Mary
may be easy. I would rather, if it be possible, that the matter be
dispatched without employ of thee."
"But thou wouldst still let me see Mary, father?"
"By my troth, I would. Thou hast well merited it. But now farewell for a
season. When I return we can tell better how to conclude this business."
"My father, what shall I do until thy return? Could I not go forth to the
place where stood the castle of our ancestors? I would fain examine
it."
Lord Stafford hesitated for a moment before replying, and then said
thoughtfully:
"Thou mayst, if thou wilt. I know that I need not tell thee to remember
that though thou dost wear a man's habit thou art still in truth a maid,
and to demean thyself in accordance therewith. But still as thou dost
wear the habit, more of liberty may be given thee than otherwise thou
couldst enjoy. Yes; go to Castle Hill, an thou wishest, but say to none
what and for why we tarry in the town."
"I am thy daughter, sir," said Francis proudly. "Thou dost deem me worthy
to abet thy enterprises. I will so bear myself that thou couldst ask no
more of me than if I were thy son."
"No more," said Lord Stafford smilingly. "Thou leavest me with no regret
that thou art not my son. A son could do no more."
He kissed her and left the chamber. Francis followed after him to the
courtyard of the inn where she stood watching him until he was lost to
view. Then drawing her cloak about her she left the yard, and walked
slowly toward the eminence upon which the great castle formerly stood.
The ruins were interesting and served to entertain the girl for some
time, but at length becoming weary, it occurred to her to set forth to
meet her father.
"It seems long since he started," she mused. "It cannot be a great while
ere he returns. Therefore to beguile my loneliness I will go to meet
him."
Passing through the gates of the town she struck boldly into the open
plain through which the road ran to Chartley. On and on she walked, the
road turning and winding until at length it forked; one branch going to
the left, the other to the right. Francis paused in bewilderment.
"Which shall I take?" she asked herself looking first at one and then at
the other. "My faith, but either stretches forth invitingly. I have it! I
will cast my dagger, and traverse that one toward which it points."
So saying she unsheathed a small poniard from her belt and drew herself
up to cast the weapon, when the clatter of horses' hoofs broke upon her
ear. She looked up startled. From behind a bend in the road to the right
there came at full gallop a party consisting of several men and a lady.
Francis was so amazed at their sudden appearance that she still retained
her position, the dagger poised ready for the throw. With a cry of horror
the lady spurred her horse to her side.
"Boy," she cried, "what art thou about to do? Stay thy hand, I command.
Knowest thou not that self-destruction is forbid?"
Francis gave vent to a merry peal of laughter as the lady's meaning
flashed upon her.
"Be not dismayed, fair lady," she said doffing her bonnet and making a
deep courtesy. "I was not planning self-destruction. Life holds too much
of promise to end it now. I was but wondering which of these two roads
led to Chartley, and thought to follow the one toward which a throw of
the dagger would point."
The lady joined in the laugh, and then became grave.
"To Chartley?" she said. "And what wouldst thou at Chartley?"
It was on the tip of the girl's tongue to reply, "I go to meet my
father," but she caught herself in time. None must know of his journey
there, and even though she who asked were beautiful and gracious she must
be discreet.
"I wished to see Queen Mary," she answered after a moment's hesitation.
"To see Mary?" broke in one of the men who had drawn near during the
above colloquy. "And may I ask, young sir, what business thou hast with
Mary?"
"Why, why," stammered Francis abashed by his harsh address and rude
bearing. "I have no business. I only wished to see the queen."
"Queen forsooth! Of what is she queen?" asked the other brusquely. "Of
nothing, I trow. Not even is she mistress of her own actions. Queen
forsooth!"
"Thou speakest truly, Paulet," said the lady mildly. "Yet methinks it not
becoming in thee to taunt Mary Stuart with the miserable state to which
she hath been reduced. Boy, thou didst wish to see Mary. I am she."
"Mary? Art thou in truth Queen Mary?" Francis exclaimed rapturously, and
seeing the assenting smile on the lady's face she darted to her side and
seizing her hand she kissed it fervently. "Oh," she cried, "if thou art
Mary, know that mistress of thy actions thou mayst not be, but thou dost
reign in truth a queen over this poor heart."
The dark eyes of Mary Stuart filled with tears and she pressed the girl's
hand tenderly.
"Such homage is sweet to the poor captive, my lad. It gladdens our heart
to know that there are some who still hold Mary in reverence. Take this
and wear in remembrance of her who is grateful for even the homage of a
page."
She drew from her neck a chain of gold to which was attached a locket
which she threw over the girl's head. With an exclamation of delight
Francis pressed it to her lips passionately.
"It shall never leave me while life lasts," she declared. "But may I not
wait upon you at your castle, Your Highness? I would be of service to
you."
Her eyes sought the lady's with a meaning look that Mary was quick to
catch.
"Nay;" broke in Sir Amyas Paulet for the gruff old puritan was very
rigid with his illustrious captive. "Thou hast had thy wish, boy, and
obtained what was doubtless thy object: a chain for a kiss, a locket for
an obeisance. It pays to give court to reduced royalty. Away with thee,
and let me not see thy face at Chartley, else thou shalt meet a gruff
reception."
"Then farewell." Francis drew as close to the lady's side as she could.
"There are letters," she whispered.
"Away!" Sir Amyas laid a hand upon the bridle of Mary's horse and turned
the animal from the girl. "I will have no whisperings. Away, boy!"
"Be not overcome, my pretty lad," and Mary drew rein despite the protests
of her uncivil guardian. "We thank thee for thy homage, and hope to see
thee again when we journey forth. Farewell."
"Farewell," returned Francis sinking upon one knee and saluting her. "I
will see you again, Your Grace."
With an impatient exclamation Sir Amyas Paulet gave a sharp blow to
Mary's horse, which reared and plunged at the treatment, almost
unseating the lady, able horsewoman though she was. The animal then
dashed away followed by the grim old puritan and the remainder of the
party who had halted at some little distance from them.
As soon as they were out of sight Francis took the locket in her hand.
"And I have seen Mary," she said with gladness. "How it will surprise my
father. How beautiful is the locket, and how full of graciousness and
sweetness she is! Service in her behalf must be a joy."
She turned and retraced her steps toward Stafford unmindful of the fact
that she had started to meet her father.
It had been morning when Lord Stafford had left his daughter; the sun was
declining in the west when, discouraged and low in spirit, he returned to
the tavern!
"It is even worse than report hath it," he said as he entered the
apartment where Francis awaited him. "Chartley is as much a prison for
Mary as the tower itself would be. When I sought admission to its gates I
was refused and threatened, forsooth. The manor is surrounded by a moat
and is well defended. The walls can be scaled only by birds. Methinks
that there is cause for Babington's wild frenzy."
"Father," spoke Francis demurely, though there was exultation in her
tones, "I saw Mary."
"My child, what do you say?" ejaculated Lord Stafford in surprise. "How
couldst thou? You were not at Chartley."
"Nathless I saw the queen," and Francis laughed gleefully. "See what she
graciously gave me."
Her father took the chain and locket in his hands and examined them
closely.
"It doth indeed come from Mary," he said looking at the name, Marie R,
engraved upon it. "Thou hast accomplished wonders, Francis. Tell me how
the matter fell out?"
Francis related all that had happened. Lord Stafford listened intently.
"Sir Amyas is an austere jailer," he observed. "He thinketh to do his
duty more acceptably to Elizabeth by treating Mary with rigor. Mary is
quick of wit, and I doubt not that this will put her on the alert. Child,
I must trust to thy wit to help me in this. Canst thou compass it?"
"I am sure so," answered Francis with the confidence of youth. "To-morrow
I will again repair to the forked roads, and mayhap she will be there."
"Mayhap," said her father, "but I misdoubt it. Paulet may be suspicious
of thee, but 'twill do no harm to be there. We will try to get the
letters to her, but if we do not succeed then must Ballard, or Captain
Fortescue as he calls himself, find some other means of communicating
with her."
"We will succeed. Never fear," said Francis with conviction.