"No," said Cicely courteously, "we have only come out to take the air before breakfast."

"I crave pardon," said the woman, curtseying, "the pretty lady belongs to the great folk down yonder. Would she look at my poor wares? Here are beads and trinkets of the goodly stones, pins and collars, bracelets and eardrops, white, yellow, and purple," she said, uncovering her basket, where were arranged various ornaments made of Derbyshire spar.

"We have no money, good woman," said Cicely, rising to return, vaguely uncomfortable at the woman's eye, which awoke some remembrance of Tibbott the huckster, and the troubles connected with her.

"Yea, but if my young mistress would only bring me in to the Great Lady there, I know she would buy of me my beads and bracelets, of give me an alms for my poor children. I have five of them, good young lady, and they lie naked and hungry till I can sell my few poor wares, and the yeomen are so rough and hard. They would break and trample every poor bead I have in pieces rather than even let my Lord hear of them. But if even my basket could be carried in and shown, and if the good Earl heard my sad tale, I am sure he would give license."

"He never does!" said Diccon, roughly; "hold off, woman, do not hang on us, or I'll get thee branded for a vagabond."

The woman put her knuckles into her eyes, and wailed out that it was all for her poor children, and Cicely reproved him for his roughness, and as the woman kept close behind them, wailing, moaning, and persuading, the boy and girl were wrought upon at last to give her leave to wait outside the gate of the inn garden, while they saw whether it was possible to admit her or her basket.

But before they reached the gate, they saw a figure beyond it, scanning the hill eagerly. They knew him for their father even before he shouted to them, and, as they approached, his voice was displeased: "How now, children; what manners are these?"

"We have only been on the hillside, sweet father," said Cis, "Diccon and I together. We thought no harm."

"This is not Sheffield Chase, Cis, and thou art no more a child, but a maiden who needs to be discreet, above all in these times. Whom did I see following you?"

"A poor woman, whom-Ha, where is she?" exclaimed Cis, suddenly perceiving that the woman seemed to have vanished.

"A troublesome begging woman who beset us with her wares," said Diccon, "and would give us no peace, praying that we would get them carried in to the Queen and her ladies, whining about her children till she made Cis soft-hearted. Where can she have hidden herself?"

The man who was stationed as sentry at the gate said he had seen the woman come over the brow of the hill with Master Diccon and Mistress Cicely, but that as they ran forward to meet Captain Talbot she had disappeared amid the rocks and brushwood.

"Poor woman, she was afraid of our father," said Cicely; "I would we could see her again."

"So would not I," said Richard. "It looks not well, and heed me well, children, there must be no more of these pranks, nor of wandering out of bounds, or babbling with strangers. Go thou in to thy mother, Cis, she hath been in much trouble for thee."

Mistress Susan was unusually severe with the girl on the indiscretion of gadding in strange places with no better escort than Diccon, and of entering into conversation with unknown persons. Moreover, Cicely's hair, her shoes, and camlet riding skirt were all so dank with dew that she was with difficulty made presentable by the time the horses were brought round.

The Queen, who had not seen the girl that morning, made her come and ride near her, asking questions on the escapade, and giving one of her bewitching pathetic smiles as she said how she envied the power of thus dancing out on the greensward, and breathing the free and fresh morning air. "My Scottish blood loves the mountains, and bounds the more freely in the fresh breeze," she said, gazing towards the Peak. "I love the scent of the dew. Didst get into trouble, child? Methought I heard sounds of chiding?"

"It was no fault of mine," said Cis, inclined to complain when she found sympathy, "the woman would speak to us."

"What woman?" asked the Queen.

"A poor woman with a basket of wares, who prayed hard to be allowed to show them to your Grace or some of the ladies. She said she had five sorely hungered children, and that she heard your Grace was a compa.s.sionate lady."

"Woe is me, compa.s.sion is full all that I am permitted to give," said the Queen, sadly; "she brought trinkets to sell. What were her wares, saidst thou?"

"I had no time to see many," said Cis, "something pure and white like a new-laid egg, I saw, and a necklet, clouded with beauteous purple."

"Ay, beads and bracelets, no doubt," said the Queen.

"Yes, beads and bracelets," returned Cicely, the soft chime of the Queen's Scottish accent bringing back to her that the woman had twice pressed on her beads and bracelets.

"She dwelt on them," said the Queen lightly. "Ay, I know the chant of the poor folk who ever hover about our outskirts in hopes to sell their country gewgaws, beads and bracelets, collars and pins, little guessing that she whom they seek is poorer than themselves. Mayhap, our Argus-eyed lord may yet let the poor dame within his fence, and we may be able to gratify thy longing for those same purple and white beads and bracelets."

Meantime the party were riding on, intending to dine at Buxton, which meant to reach it by noonday. The tall roof of the great hall erected by the Earl over the baths was already coming in sight, and by and by they would look into the valley. The Wye, after coming down one of those lovely deep ravines to be found in all mountainous countries, here flowed through a more open s.p.a.ce, part of which had been artificially levelled, but which was covered with buildings, rising out amongst the rocks and trees.

Most conspicuous among them was a large freshly-built erection in Tudor architecture, with a wide portal arch, and five separate gables starting from one central building, which bore a large clock-tower, and was decorated at every corner with the Talbots' stout and st.u.r.dy form. This was the great hall, built by the present Earl George, and containing five baths, intended to serve separately for each s.e.x, gentle and simple, with one special bath reserved for the sole use of the more distinguished visitors. Besides this, at no great distance, was the Earl's own mansion, "a very goodly house, four square, four stories high," with stables, offices, and all the requisites of a n.o.bleman's establishment, and this was to be the lodging of the Scottish Queen.

Farther off was another house, which had been built by permission of the Earl, under the auspices of Dr. Jones, probably one of the first of the long series of physicians who have made it their business to enhance the fame of the watering-places where they have set up their staff. This was the great hostel or lodging-house for the patients of condition who resorted to the healing springs, and nestled here and there among the rocks were cottages which accommodated, after a fashion, the poorer sort, who might drag themselves to the spot in the hope of washing away their rheumatic pains and other infirmities. In a distant and magnificent way, like some of the lesser German potentates, the mighty Lord of Shrewsbury took toll from the visitors to his baths, and this contributed to repair the ravages to his fortune caused by the maintenance of his royal captive.

Arriving just at noontide, the Queen and her escort beheld a motley crowd dispersed about the sward on the banks of the river, some playing at ball, others resting on benches or walking up and down in groups, exercise being recommended as part of the cure. All thronged together to watch the Earl and his captive ride in with their suite, the household turning out to meet them, while foremost stood a dapper little figure with a short black cloak, a stiff round ruff, and a square barrett cap, with a gold-headed cane in one hand and a paper in the other.

"Prepare thy patience, Cis," whispered Barbara Mowbray, "now shall we not be allowed to alight from our palfreys till we have heard his full welcome to my Lord, and all his plans for this place, how-it is to be made a sanctuary for the sick during their abode there, for all causes saving sacrilege, treason, murder, burglary, and highway robbery, with a license to eat flesh on a Friday, as long as they are drinking the waters!"

It was as Mistress Mowbray said. Dr. Jones's harangue on the progress of Buxton and its prospects had always to be endured before any one was allowed to dismount; but royalty and n.o.bility were inured to listening with a good grace, and Mary, though wearied and aching, sat patiently in the hot sunshine, and was ready to declare that Buxton put her in good humour. In fact the grandees and their immediate attendants endured with all the grace of good breeding; but the farther from the scene of action, the less was the patience, and the more restless and confused the movements of the retinue.

Diccon Talbot, hungry and eager, had let his equally restless pony convey him, he scarce knew where, from his father's side, when he saw, making her way among the horses, the very woman with the basket whom he had encountered at Tideswell in the early morning. How could she have gone such a distance in the time? thought the boy, and he presently caught the words addressed to one of the grooms of the Scottish Queen's suite. "Let me show my poor beads and bracelets." The Scotsman instantly made way for her, and she advanced to a wizened thin old Frenchman, Maitre Gorion, the Queen's surgeon, who jumped down from his horse, and was soon bending over her basket exchanging whispers in the lowest possible tones; but a surge among those in the rear drove Diccon up so near that he was absolutely certain that they were speaking French, as indeed he well knew that M. Gorion never could succeed in making himself understood in English.

The boy, bred up in the perpetual caution and suspicion of Sheffield, was eager to denounce one who he was sure was a conspirator; but he was hemmed in among horses and men, so that he could not make his way out or see what was pa.s.sing, till suddenly there was a scattering to the right and left, and a simultaneous shriek from the ladies in front.

When Diccon could see anything, his father was pressing forward to a group round some one prostrate on the ground before the house, and there were exclamations, "The poor young lady! The chirurgeon! To the front, the Queen is asking for you, sir," and Cicely's horse with loose bridle pa.s.sed before his eyes.

"Let me through! let me through!" cried the boy; "it is my sister."

He threw his bridle to a groom, and, squeezing between horses and under elbows, succeeded in seeing Cis lying on the ground with her eyes shut and her head in his mother's lap, and the French surgeon bending over her. She gave a cry when he touched her arm, and he said something in his mixture of French and English, which Diccon could not hear. The Queen stood close by, a good deal agitated, anxiously asking questions, and throwing out her hands in her French fashion. Diccon, much frightened, struggled on, but only reached the party just as his father had gathered Cicely up in his arms to carry her upstairs. Diccon followed as closely as he could, but blindly in the crowd in the strange house, until he found himself in a long gallery, shut out, among various others of both s.e.xes. "Come, my masters and mistresses all," said the voice of the seneschal, "you had best to your chambers, there is naught for you to do here."

However, he allowed Diccon to remain leaning against the bal.u.s.trade of the stairs which led up outside the house, and in another minute his father came out. "Ha, Diccon, that is well," said he. "No, thou canst not enter. They are about to undress poor little Cis. Nay, it seemed not to me that she was more hurt than thy mother could well have dealt with, but the French surgeon would thrust in, and the Queen would have it so. We will walk here in the court till we hear what he saith of her. How befell it, dost thou ask? Truly I can hardly tell, but I believe one of the Frenchmen's horses got restless either with a fly or with standing so long to hear yonder leech's discourse. He must needs cut the beast with his rod, and so managed to hit White Posy, who starts aside, and Cis, sitting unheedfully on that new-fangled French saddle, was thrown in an instant."

"I shall laugh at her well for letting herself be thrown by a Frenchman with his switch," said Diccon.

"I hope the damage hath not been great," said his father, anxiously looking up the stair. "Where wast thou, d.i.c.k? I had lost sight of thee."

"I was seeking you, sir, for I had seen a strange sight," said d.i.c.k. "That woman who spoke with us at Tideswell was here again; yea, and she talked with the little old Frenchman that they call Gorion, the same that is with Cis now."

"She did! Folly, boy! The fellow can hardly comprehend five words of plain English together, long as he hath been here! One of the Queen's women is gone in even now to interpret for him."

"That do I wot, sir. Therefore did I marvel, and sought to tell you."

"What like was the woman?" demanded Richard.

Diccon's description was lame, and his father bade him hasten out of the court, and fetch the woman if he could find her displaying her trinkets to the water-drinkers, instructing him not to alarm her by peremptory commands, but to give her hopes of a purchaser for her spars. Proud of the commission entrusted to him, the boy sallied forth, but though he wandered through all the groups on the sward, and encountered two tumblers and one puppet show, besides a bear and monkey, he utterly failed in finding the vendor of the beads and bracelets.

CHAPTER XIV.

THE MONOGRAMS.

When Cicely had been carried into a chamber by Master Talbot, and laid half-conscious and moaning on the grand carved bed, Mrs. Talbot by word and gesture expelled all superfluous spectators. She would have preferred examining alone into the injury sustained by the maiden, which she did not think beyond her own management; but there was no refusing the services of Maitre Gorion, or of Mrs. Kennedy, who indeed treated her authoritatively, a.s.suming the direction of the sick-room. She found herself acting under their orders as she undid the boddice, while Mrs. Kennedy ripped up the tight sleeve of the riding dress, and laid bare the arm and shoulder, which had been severely bruised and twisted, but neither broken nor dislocated, as Mrs. Kennedy informed her, after a few rapid words from the Frenchman, unintelligible to the English lady, who felt somewhat impatient of this invasion of her privileges, and was ready to say she had never supposed any such thing.

The chirurgeon skipped to the door, and for a moment she hoped that she was rid of him, but he had only gone to bring in a neat case with which his groom was in waiting outside, whence he extracted a lotion and sponge, speaking rapidly as he did so.

"Now, madam," said Jean Kennedy, "lift the la.s.sie, there, turn back her boddice, and we will bathe her shouther. So! By my halidome!"

"Ah! Mort de ma vie!"