seen too much and to linger here was certain death, if he lived, he
would return from over-seas with the papers when the times are safer. He
prayed that you would not doubt him."

"The papers! What papers, Emlyn?"

She shrugged her broad shoulders.

"How should I know? Doubtless some that your father was taking to London
and did not desire to lose. His iron chest stands open in his chamber."

Now poor Cicely remembered that her father had spoken of certain "deeds"
which he must take with him, and began to sob.

"Weep not, darling," said her foster-mother, smoothing Cicely's brown
hair with her strong hand. "These things are decreed of God, and done
with. Now you must look to yourself. Your father is gone, but one
remains."

Cicely lifted her tear-stained face.

"Yes, I have you," she said.

"Me!" she answered, with a quick smile. "Nay, of what use am I? Your
nursing days are over. What did you tell me your father said to you
before he rode--about Sir Christopher? Hush! there's no time to talk;
you must away to Cranwell Towers."

"Why?" asked Cicely. "He cannot bring my father back to life, and it
would be thought strange indeed that at such a time I should visit a man