'You little know the good it does a captive to take part, only in fancy, in a free harmless life,' returned Mary, with the wistful look that made her eyes so pathetic. 'There is no refreshment to me like a child's prattle.'
Susan's heart smote her as she thought of the true relations in which these two stood to one another, and she forbore from further interference; but she greatly rejoiced when the great bell of the castle gave notice of noon, and of her own release. When Queen Mary's dinner was served, the Talbot ladies in attendance left her and repaired to the general family meal in the hall.
CHAPTER XII. A FURIOUS LETTER.
A period now began of daily penance to Mrs. Talbot, of daily excitement and delight to Cis. Two hours or more had to be spent in attendance on Queen Mary. Even on Sundays there was no exemption, the visit only took place later in the day, so as not to interfere with going to church.
Nothing could be more courteous or more friendly than the manner in which the elder lady was always received. She was always made welcome by the Queen herself, who generally entered into conversation with her almost as with an equal. Or when Mary herself was engaged in her privy chamber in dictating to her secretaries, the ladies of the suite showed themselves equally friendly, and told her of their mistress's satisfaction in having a companion free from all the rude and unaccountable humours and caprices of my Lady Countess and her daughters. And if Susan was favoured, Cis was petted. Queen Mary always liked to have young girls about her. Their fresh, spontaneous, enthusiastic homage was pleasant to one who loved above all to attract, and it was a pleasure to a prisoner to have a fresh face about her.
Was it only this, or was it the maternal instinct that made her face light up when the young girl entered the room and return the shy reverential kiss of the hand with a tender kiss on the forehead, that made her encourage the chatter, give little touches to the deportment, and present little keepsakes, which increased in value till Sir Richard began to look grave, and to say there must be no more jewels of price brought from the lodge? And as his wife uttered a word that sounded like remonstrance, he added, 'Not while she passes for my daughter.'
Cis, who had begun by putting on a pouting face, burst into tears. Her adopted parents had always been more tolerant and indulgent to her than if she had been a child over whom they felt entire rights, and instead of rewarding her petulance with such a blow as would have fallen to the lot of a veritable Talbot, Richard shrugged his shoulders and left the room-the chamber which had been allotted to Dame Susan at the Manor-house, while Susan endeavoured to cheer the girl by telling her not to grieve, for her father was not angry with her.
'Why-why may not the dear good Queen give me her dainty gifts?' sobbed Cis.
'See, dear child,' said Susan, 'while she only gave thee an orange stuck with cloves, or an embroidery needle, or even a puppy dog, it is all very well; but when it comes to Spanish gloves and coral clasps, the next time there is an outcry about a plot, some evil- disposed person would be sure to say that Master Richard Talbot had been taking bribes through his daughter.'
'It would be vilely false!' cried Cis with flashing eyes.
'It would not be the less believed,' said Susan. 'My Lord would say we had betrayed our trust, and there never has been one stain on my husband's honour.'
'You are wroth with me too, mother!' said Cis.
'Not if you are a good child, and guard the honour of the name you bear.'
'I will, I will!' said Cis. 'Never will I take another gift from the Queen if only you and he will call me your child, and be-good to me- -' The rest was lost in tears and in the tender caresses that Susan lavished on her; all the more as she caught the broken words, 'Humfrey, too, he would never forgive me.'
Susan told her husband what had passed, adding, 'She will keep her word.'
'She must, or she shall go no more to the lodge,' he said.
'You would not have doubted had you seen her eye flash at the thought of bringing your honour into question. There spoke her kingly blood.'
'Well, we shall see,' sighed Richard, 'if it be blood that makes the nature. I fear me hers is but that of a Scottish thief! Scorn not warning, mother, but watch thy stranger nestling well.'
'Nay, mine husband. While we own her as our child, she will do anything to be one with us. It is when we seem to put her from us that we wound her so that I know not what she might do, fondled as she is-by-by her who-has the best right to the dear child.'
Richard uttered a certain exclamation of disgust which silenced his discreet wife.
Neither of them had quite anticipated the result, namely, that the next morning, Cis, after kissing the Queen's hand as usual, remained kneeling, her bosom heaving, and a little stammering on her tongue, while tears rose to her eyes.
'What is it, mignonne,' said Mary, kindly; 'is the whelp dead? or is the clasp broken?'
'No, madam; but-but I pray you give me no more gifts. My father says it touches his honour, and I have promised him-Oh, madam, be not displeased with me, but let me give you back your last beauteous gift.'
Mary was standing by the fire. She took the ivory and coral trinket from the hand of the kneeling girl, and dashed it into the hottest glow. There was passion in the action, and in the kindling eye, but it was but for a moment. Before Cis could speak or Susan begin her excuses, the delicate hand was laid on the girl's head, and a calm voice said, 'Fear not, child. Queens take not back their gifts. I ought to have borne in mind that I am balked of the pleasure of giving-the beat of all the joys they have robbed me of. But tremble not, sweetheart, I am not chafed with thee. I will vex thy father no more. Better thou shouldst go without a trinket or two than deprive me of the light of that silly little face of thine so long as they will leave me that sunbeam.'
She stooped and kissed the drooping brow, and Susan could not but feel as if the voice of nature were indeed speaking.
A few words of apology in her character of mother for the maiden's abrupt proceeding were met by the Queen most graciously. 'Spare thy words, good madam. We understand and reverence Mr. Talbot's point of honour. Would that all who approached us had held his scruples!'
Perhaps Mary was after this more distant and dignified towards the matron, but especially tender and caressing towards the maiden, as if to make up by kindness for the absence of little gifts.
Storms, however, were brewing without. Lady Shrewsbury made open complaints of her husband having become one of Mary's many victims, representing herself as an injured wife driven out of her house. She actually in her rage carried the complaint to Queen Elizabeth, who sent down two commissioners to inquire into the matter. They sat in the castle hall, and examined all the attendants, including Richard and his wife. The investigation was extremely painful and distressing, but it was proved that nothing could have been more correct and guarded than the whole intercourse between the Earl and his prisoner. If he had erred, it had been on the side of caution and severity, though he had always preserved the courteous demeanour of a gentleman, and had been rejoiced to permit whatever indulgences could be granted. If there had been any transgressions of the strict rules, they had been made by the Countess herself and her daughters in the days of their intimacy with the Queen; and the aspersions on the unfortunate Earl were, it was soon evident, merely due to the violent and unscrupulous tongues of the Countess and her daughter Mary. No wonder that Lord Shrewsbury wrote letters in which he termed the lady 'his wicked and malicious wife,' and expressed his conviction that his son Gilbert's mind had been perverted by her daughter.
The indignation of the captive Queen was fully equal to his, as one after another of her little court returned and was made to detail the points on which he or she had been interrogated. Susan found her pacing up and down the floor like a caged tigress, her cap and veil thrown back, so that her hair-far whiter than what was usually displayed-was hanging dishevelled, her ruff torn open, as if it choked back the swelling passion in her throat.
'Never, never content with persecuting me, they must insult me! Is it not enough that I am stripped of my crown, deprived of my friends; that I cannot take a step beyond this chamber, queen as I am, without my warder? Must they attaint me as a woman? Oh, why, why did the doom spare me that took my little brothers? Why did I live to be the most wretched, not of sovereigns alone, but of women?'
'Madam,' entreated Marie de Courcelles, 'dearest madam, take courage. All these horrible charges refute themselves.'
'Ah, Marie! you have said so ten thousand times, and what charge has ever been dropped?'
'This one is dropped!' exclaimed Susan, coming forward. 'Yes, your Grace, indeed it is! The Commissioner himself told my husband that no one believed it for a moment.'
