nked Susan for coming, as if he had not had a right to order,
gave her his ungloved hand when she had dismounted, then at the single
doorway of the lodge caused his gentleman to go through the form of
requesting admission for himself and Mistress Talbot, his dear
kinswoman, to the presence of the Queen. It was a ceremony daily
observed as an acknowledgment of Mary's royalty, and the Earl was far
too courteous ever to omit it.

Queen Mary's willingness to admit him was notified by Sir Andrew
Melville, a tall, worn man, with the typical Scottish countenance and a
keen steadfast gray eye. He marshalled the trio up a circular
staircase, made as easy as possible, but necessarily narrow, since it
wound up through a brick turret at the corner, to the third and
uppermost story of the lodge.

There, however, was a very handsome anteroom, with tapestry hangings, a
richly moulded ceiling, and wide carved stone chimneypiece, where a
bright fire was burning, around which sat several Scottish and French
gentlemen, who rose at the Earl's entrance. Another wide doorway with
a tapestry curtain over the folding leaves led to the presence chamber,
and Sir Andrew announced in as full style as if he had been marshalling
an English ambassador to the Court of Holyrood, the most high and
mighty Earl of Shrewsbury. The room was full of March sunshine, and a
great wood fire blazed on the hearth. Part of the floor was carpeted,
and overhung with a canopy, proceeding from the tapestried wall, and
here was a cross-legged velvet chair on which sat Queen Mary. This was
all that Cis saw at first, while the Earl advanced, knelt on one step
of the dais, with bared head, exchanging greetings with the Queen. He
then added, that his wife, the Countess, and her daughter, having been
called away from Sheffield, he would entreat her Grace to accept for a
few days in their stead the attendance of his good kinswoman, Mrs.
Talbot, and her daughter, Mistress Cicely.

Mary graciously intimated her consent, and extended her hand for each
to kiss as they knelt in turn on the step; Susan either fancied, or
really saw a wonderful likeness in that taper hand to the little one
whose stitches she had so often guided. Cis, on her part, felt the
thrill of girlhood in the actual touch of the subject of her dreams.
She stood, scarcely hearing what passed, but taking in, from under her
black brows, all the surroundings, and recognising the persons from her
former g