“It is,” replied Cis.

“Then let him look well at the bottom of each barrel of beer supplied for the use of her household.  There is an honest man, a brewer, at Burton, whom Paulett will employ, who will provide that letters be sent to and fro.  Gifford and Langston, who are both of these parts, know him well.”  Cis started at the name.  “Do you trust Langston then?” she asked.

“Wholly!  Why, he is the keenest and ablest of all.  Have you not seen him and had speech with him in many strange shapes?  He can change his voice, and whine like any beggar wife.”

“Yea,” said Cis, “but the Queen and Sir Andrew doubted a little if he meant not threats last time we met.”

“All put on—­excellent dissembling to beguile the keepers.  He told me all,” said Antony, “and how he had to scare thee and change tone suddenly.  Why, he it is who laid this same egg, and will receive it.  There is a sworn band, as you know already, who will let her know our plans, and be at her commands through that means.  Then, when we have done service approaching to be worthy of her, then it may be that I shall have earned at least a look or sign.”

“Alas! sir,” said Cicely, “how can I give you false hopes?” For her honest heart burnt to tell the poor fellow that she would in case of his success be farther removed from him than ever.

“What would be false now shall be true then.  I will wring love from thee by my deeds for her whom we both alike love, and then wilt thou be mine own, my true Bride!”

By this time other guests had arrived, and the dinner was ready.  Babington was, in deference to the Countess, allowed to sit next to his lady-love.  She found he had been at Sheffield, and had visited Bridgefield, vainly endeavouring to obtain sanction to his addresses from her adopted parents.  He saw how her eyes brightened and heard how her voice quivered with eagerness to hear of what still seemed home to her, and he was pleased to feel himself gratifying her by telling her how Mrs. Talbot looked, and how Brown Dumpling had been turned out in the Park, and Mr. Talbot had taken a new horse, which Ned had insisted on calling “Fulvius,” from its colour, for Ned was such a scholar that he was to be sent to study at Cambridge.  Then he would have wandered off to little Lady Arbell’s being put under Master Sniggius’s tuition, but Cicely would bring him back to Bridgefield, and to Ned’s brothers.

No, the boasted expedition to Spain had not begun yet.  Sir Francis Drake was lingering about Plymouth, digging a ditch, it was said, to bring water from Dartmoor.  He would never get license to attack King Philip on his own shores.  The Queen knew better than to give it.  Humfrey and Diccon would get no better sport than robbing a ship or two on the way to the Netherlands.  Antony, for his part, could not see that piracy on the high seas was fit work for a gentleman.

“A gentleman loves to serve his queen and country in all places,” said Cicely.