"That we will," cried Cicely, clapping her hands. "Oh, do stay; I am so
lonely here! The maid is silly, Margot old, and the rats run in
the wall."

"And thou must to the theater, my lad, and sing for London town--ay,
Nicholas," and Carew's voice rang proudly. "The highest heads in London
town must hear that voice of thine, or I shall die unshrift. What!
lad?--come all the way from Coventry, and never show that face of thine,
nor let them hear thy skylark's song? Why, 'twere a shame! And, Nick, my
lord the Admiral shall hear thee sing when he comes home again;
perchance the Queen herself. Why, Nick, of course thou'lt sing. Thou
hast not heart to say thou wilt not sing--even for me whom thou hatest."

Nick smiled in spite of himself, for Cicely was leaning on the arm of
his chair, devouring him with her great dark eyes: "Dost truly, truly
sing?" she asked.

Nick laughed and blushed, and Carew laughed. "What, doth he sing? Why,
Nick, come, tune that skylark note of thine for little Golden-heart and
me. 'Twill make her think she hears the birds in verity--and, Nick, the
lass hath never seen a bird that sang, except within a cage. Nay, lad,
this is no cage!" he cried, as Nick looked about and sighed. "We will
make it very home for thee--will Cicely and I."

"That we will!" cried Cicely. "Come, boy, sing for me--my mother used to
sing."

At that Gaston Carew went white as a sheet, and put his hand quickly up
to his face. Cicely darted to his side with a frightened cry, and caught
his hand away. He tried to smile, but it was a ghastly attempt. "Tush,
tush! little one; 'twas something stung me!" said he, huskily, "Sing,
Nicholas, I beg of thee!"

There was such a sudden world of weariness and sorrow in his voice that
Nick felt a pity for he knew not what, and lifting up his clear young
voice, he sang the quaint old madrigal.

Carew sat with his face in his hand, and after it was done arose
unsteadily and said, "Come, Golden-heart; 'tis music such as charmeth
care and lureth sleep out of her dark valley--we must be trotting off
to bed."

That night Nick slept upon a better bed, with a sheet and a blue serge
coverlet, and a pillow stuffed with chaff.

But as he drifted off into a troubled dreamland, he heard the door-bolt
throb into its socket, and knew that he was fastened in.

CHAPTER XVII

CAREW'S OFFER

Next morning Carew donned his plum-colored cloak, and with Nick's hand
held tightly in his own w