weary Tutbury. And oh! the exquisite jest that my Lady and Sir Ralf
Sadler should be the bearers! I always knew some good would come of
that suitor of thine! Thou must not flout him, my fair lady, nor
scowl at him so with thy beetle brows."

"It seems but hard to lure him on with false hopes," said Cicely,
gravely.

"Hoots, lassie," as Dame Jean would say, "'tis but joy and delight to
men to be thus tickled. 'Tis the greatest kindness we can do them
thus to amuse them," said Mary, drawing up her head with the
conscious fascination of the serpent of old Nile, and toying the
while with the ciphered letter, in eagerness, and yet dread, of what
it might contain.

Such things were not easy to make out, even to those who had the key,
and Mary, unwilling to trust it out of her own hands, leant over it,
spelling it out for many minutes, but at last broke forth into a
clear ringing burst of girlish laughter and clasped her hands
together, "Mignonne, mignonne, it is too rare a jest to hold back.
Deem not that your Highness stands first here! Oh no! 'Tis a letter
from Bernardo de Mendoza with a proposition for whose hand thinkest
thou? For this poor old captive hand! For mine, maiden. Ay, and
from whom? From his Excellency, the Prince of Parma, Lieutenant of
the Netherlands. Anon will he be here with 30,000 picked men and the
Spanish fleet; and then I shall ride once again at the head of my
brave men, hear trumpets bray, and see banners fly! We will begin to
work our banner at once, child, and let Sir Ralf think it is a bed-
quilt for her sacred Majesty, Elizabeth. Thou look'st dismayed,
little maiden."