commands, but to give her hopes of a purchaser for her spars. Proud of the commission entrusted to him, the boy sallied forth, but though he wandered through all the groups on the sward, and encountered two tumblers and one puppet show, besides a bear and monkey, he utterly failed in finding the vendor of the beads and bracelets.
CHAPTER XIV. THE MONOGRAMS.
When Cicely had been carried into a chamber by Master Talbot, and laid half-conscious and moaning on the grand carved bed, Mrs. Talbot by word and gesture expelled all superfluous spectators. She would have preferred examining alone into the injury sustained by the maiden, which she did not think beyond her own management; but there was no refusing the services of Maitre Gorion, or of Mrs. Kennedy, who indeed treated her authoritatively, assuming the direction of the sick-room. She found herself acting under their orders as she undid the boddice, while Mrs. Kennedy ripped up the tight sleeve of the riding dress, and laid bare the arm and shoulder, which had been severely bruised and twisted, but neither broken nor dislocated, as Mrs. Kennedy informed her, after a few rapid words from the Frenchman, unintelligible to the English lady, who felt somewhat impatient of this invasion of her privileges, and was ready to say she had never supposed any such thing.
The chirurgeon skipped to the door, and for a moment she hoped that she was rid of him, but he had only gone to bring in a neat case with which his groom was in waiting outside, whence he extracted a lotion and sponge, speaking rapidly as he did so.
'Now, madam,' said Jean Kennedy, 'lift the lassie, there, turn back her boddice, and we will bathe her shouther. So! By my halidome!'
'Ah! Mort de ma vie!'
The two exclamations darted simultaneously from the lips of the Scottish nurse and the French doctor. Susan beheld what she had at the moment forgotten, the curious mark branded on her nursling's shoulder, which indeed she had not seen since Cicely had been of an age to have the care of her own person, and which was out of the girl's own sight. No more was said at the moment, for Cis was reviving fast, and was so much bewildered and frightened that she required all the attention and soothing that the two women could give, but when they removed the rest of her clothing, so that she might be laid down comfortably to rest, Mrs. Kennedy by another dexterous movement uncovered enough of the other shoulder to obtain a glimpse of the monogram upon it.
Nothing was spoken. Those two had not been so many years attendants on a suspected and imprisoned queen without being prudent and cautious; but when they quitted the apartment after administering a febrifuge, Susan felt a pang of wonder, whether they were about to communicate their discovery to their mistress. For the next quarter of an hour, the patient needed all her attention, and there was no possibility of obeying the summons of a great clanging bell which announced dinner. When, however, Cis had fallen asleep it became possible to think over the situation. She foresaw an inquiry, and would have given much for a few words with her husband; but reflection showed her that the one point essential to his safety was not to betray that he and she had any previous knowledge of the rank of their nursling. The existence of the scroll might have to be acknowledged, but to show that Richard had deciphered it would put him in danger on all hands.
She had just made up her mind on this point when there was a knock at the door, and Mrs. Kennedy bore in a salver with a cup of wine, and took from an attendant, who remained outside, a tray with some more solid food, which she placed on the broad edge of the deep-set window, and coming to the bedside, invited Mrs. Talbot to eat, while she watched the girl. Susan complied, though with little appetite, and Mrs. Kennedy, after standing for a few minutes in contemplation, came to the window. She was a tall woman, her yellow hair softened by an admixture of gray, her eyes keen and shrewd, yet capable of great tenderness at times, her features certainly not youthful, but not a whit more aged than they had been when Susan had first seen her fourteen years ago. It was a quiet mouth, and one that gave a sense of trust both in its firmness, secrecy, and kindness.
'Madam,' said she, in her soft Scotch voice, lowered considerably, but not whispering, and with her keen eyes fixed on Susan-'Madam, what garred ye gie your bit lassie yonder marks? Ye need not fear, that draught of Maister Gorion's will keep her sleeping fast for a good hour or two longer, and it behoves me to ken how she cam by yonder brands.'
'She had them when she came to us,' said Susan.
'Ye'll no persuade me that they are birth marks,' returned Mistress Jean. 'Such a thing would be a miracle in a loyal Scottish Catholic's wean, let alone an English heretic's.'
'No,' said Susan, who had in fact only made the answer to give herself time to think whether it were possible to summon her husband. 'They never seemed to me birth marks.'
'Woman,' said Jean Kennedy, laying a strong, though soft hand, on her wrist, 'this is not gear for trifling. Is the lass your ain bairn? Ha! I always thought she had mair of the kindly Scot than of the Southron about her. Hech! so they made the puir wean captive! Wha gave her till you to keep? Your lord, I trow.'
'The Lord of heaven and earth,' replied Susan. 'My husband took her, the only living thing left on a wreck off the Spurn Head.'
'Hech, sirs!' exclaimed Mrs. Kennedy, evidently much struck, but still exercising great self-command. 'And when fell this out?'
'Two days after Low Sunday, in the year of grace 1568,' returned Susan.
'My halidome!' again ejaculated Jean, in a low voice, crossing herself. 'And what became of honest Ailie-I mean,' catching herself up, 'what befell those that went with her?'
'Not one lived,' said Susan, gravely. 'The mate of my husband's ship took the little one from the arms of her nurse, who seemed to have been left alone with her by the crew, lashed to the wreck, and to have had her life freshly beaten out by the winds and waves, for she was still warm. I was then lying at Hull, and they brought the babe to me, while there was still time to save her life, with God's blessing.'
'And the vessel?' asked Jean.
'My husband held it to be the Bride of Dunbar, plying between that port and Harfleur.'
'Ay! ay! Blessed St. Bride!' muttered Jean Kennedy, with an awe- stricken look; then, collecting herself, she added, 'Were there no tokens, save these, about the little one, by which she could be known?'
'There was a gold chain with a cross, and what you call a reliquary about her little neck, and a scroll written in cipher among her swaddling bands; but they are laid up at home, at Bridgefield.'
It was a perplexing situation for this simple-hearted and truthful woman, and, on the other hand, Jean Kennedy was no less devoted and loyal in her own line, a good and conscientious woman, but shrewder, and, by nature and breeding, far less scrupulous as to absolute truth.
The one idea that Susan, in her confusion, could keep hold of was that any admission of knowledge as to who her Cis really was, would be a betrayal of her husband's secret; and on the other hand she saw that Mrs. Kennedy, though most keen to discover everything, and no doubt convinced that the maiden was her Queen's child, was bent on not disclosing that fact to the foster-mother.
She asked anxiously whether Mistress Cicely knew of her being only an adopted child, and Susan replied that they had intended that she never should learn that she was of alien birth; but that it had been revealed by the old sailor who had brought her on board the Mastiff, though no one had heard him save young Humfrey and the girl herself, and they had been, so far as she knew, perfectly reserved on the subject.
Jean Kennedy then inquired how the name of Cicely had been given, and whether the child had been so baptized by Protestant rites.
'Wot you who the maid may be, madam?' Susan took courage to ask; but the Scotswoman would not be disconcerted, and replied,
'How suld I ken without a sight of the tokens? Gin I had them, maybe I might give a guess, but there was mony a leal Scot sairly bestead, wife and wean and all, in her Majesty's cause that wearie spring.'
Here Cis stirred in her sleep, and both women were at her side in a moment, but she did not wake.
Jean Kennedy stood gazing at the girl with eagerness that she did not attempt to conceal, studying each feature in detail; but Cis showed in her sleep very little of her royal lineage, which betrayed itself far more in her gait and bearing than in her features. Susan could not help demanding of the nurse whether she saw any resemblance that could show the maiden's parentage.
The old lady gave a kind of Scotch guttural sound expressive of disappointment, and said, 'I'll no say but I've seen the like beetle- broo. But we'll waken the bairn with our clavers. I'll away the noo. Maister Gorion will see her again ere night, but it were ill to break her sleep, the puir lassie!'
