d kept her boy
continually in sight, and, however restive Ambrose might be under the
control which his grandmother exercised over him, he was generally obedient
to his mother.

His high spirit was curbed by a look from her, and, having promised that he
would not go beyond the gate leading from the farmyard on one side of Ford
Manor, or into the lane which led to the highroad on the other, Ambrose
held that promise sacred.

He trotted along by his mother's side as she performed the duties in the
dairy and poultry-yard, which Lucy's absence in the household had made it
necessary for her to undertake. Although it was a relief that peace reigned
now that the wranglings between their stepmother and Lucy had ceased, Mary
found the additional work a great strain upon her, however glad she was to
have her hands well occupied, that she might have less time to brood over
the fears which her husband's visit and threats had aroused.

Two weeks had now gone by, and these fears were comparatively laid to rest.
Mary thought that her husband would not risk being seen in the
neighbourhood, as news came through the Puritan friends of Mrs Forrester
that several Papists had been seized at Tunbridge, and had been thrown into
prison, on the suspicion that they were concerned in one of the Popish
plots of which the Protestants were continually in dread, and in one of
which Edmund Campion was implicated.

Indeed, there was an almost universal feeling throughout the country that
the Papists cherished evil designs against the Queen's life, and that they
were only biding their time to league with those who wished to place the
captive Queen of Scotland on the throne, and so restore England to her
allegiance to the Pope.

News of the imprisonment of this celebrated Edmund Campion had been
circulated about this time through the country, and stories of the manner
in which he had been mercilessly tortured to extract from him the
confession of a plot against Elizabeth's life.

On the Sunday after Ascension Day there were to be great shows and games in
the village of Penshurst, and Ambrose, hearing of them from his friend Ned
the cowherd, on Saturday evening, begged his mother to let him see the
sports.

'There's a wrestling match,' he urged, 'on the green, and a tilting between
horsemen in the outer park. Mother, I'd like to see it; do take me down to
see it. Oh! mother, do; I'll hold your hand all the time; I won't run away
from you, no, not a