itterness. I long to take her to my breast again, but I would not so
long as I believe that she betrayed trust."

"She would not betray thee, Stafford, even when threatened with torture,"
spoke the secretary. "My Lord Shrope can bear witness to the truth of
what I speak."

With a bound Lord Stafford reached the weeping girl and caught her to
him.

"My daughter! My daughter!" he cried. "Can you ever forgive me? Say that
you forgive me."

"And you do believe in me?" questioned Francis clinging to him
convulsively. "Say that you do, my father."

"I do, I do, my child."

"My lord, we will permit you to retire until you are calmer," came from
the queen.

"Thank her, Francis," said Lord Stafford leading the girl forward. "Thank
our gracious queen who hath shown so much of kindness to us."

"There, sweetheart!" said Elizabeth as Francis with streaming eyes tried
to articulate her gratitude. "'Twill suffice for the present. We like thy
spirit, and later will receive thee into service near us. When thou hast
donned thy maiden attire we would see thee again. Though, by my faith, if
all men would honor the garb as thou hast done, there would be few knaves
in the kingdom."

* * * * *

"And this is Mistress Francis Stafford?" cried Edward Devereaux as, two
days later, Francis stood on the banks of the river watching the queen as
she embarked for London. "Upon my word, Francis; thy attire well becomes
thee."

"'Hast thou found me, oh, mine enemy?'" quoth the girl gaily turning a
bright face toward him.

"Thine enemy, Francis?" said the youth reproachfully. "I thought that
that had passed. After all that we have been through together thou
shouldst not call me so."

"And art thou not mine enemy?" asked she archly. "Nay;" as a pained look
crossed his face, "I know that thou art not."

"And neither art thou mine," asserted Edward. "Ah, Francis, may not we
two bury that old enmity by a union of our families in us? If thy father
give consent wilt thou agree also?"

"If my father consent, then so will I also, Edward," spoke the girl
softly, adding saucily--"'tis the only way that I'll ever get that deer's
horns."

STORIES FOR GIRLS

=BETTY WALES, FRESHMAN=. By MARGARET WARDE. ILLUSTRATED BY EVA M. NAGEL.
"Every nice girl likes college, though everyone likes it for a different
reason," says one of the college girls in this delightful story, and the
same thing might be