faith, and then! oh the fracas! The wicked wolves would have stolen
a precious lamb from M. le Pasteur's fold! Master Richard would be
sent for! Our restraint would be the closer! Moreover, even when
the moment of freedom strikes, who knows that to find her of their
own religion may not win us favour with the English?"

So, from whatever motive, Cis remained unmolested in her religion,
save by the weariness of the controversial sermons, during which the
young lady contrived to abstract her mind pretty completely. If in
good spirits she would construct airy castles for her Archduke; if
dispirited, she yearned with a homesick feeling for Bridgefield and
Mrs. Talbot. There was something in the firm sober wisdom and steady
kindness of that good lady which inspired a sense of confidence, for
which no caresses nor brilliant auguries could compensate.

Weary and cramped she was to the point of having a feverish attack,
and on one slightly delirious night she fretted piteously after
"mother," and shook off the Queen's hand, entreating that "mother,
real mother," would come. Mary was much pained, and declared that if
the child were not better the next day she should have a messenger
sent to summon Mrs. Talbot. However, she was better in the morning;
and the Queen, who had been making strong representations of the
unhealthiness and other inconveniences of Tutbury, received a promise
that she should change her abode as soon as Chartley, a house
belonging to the young Earl of Essex, could be prepared for her.

The giving away large alms had always been one of her great solaces--
not that she was often permitted any personal contact with the poor:
only to sit at a window watching them as they flocked into the court,
to be relieved by her servants under supervision from some officer of