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Updated: July 21, 2025
A low browed projecting arch, above which was a tower forming a striking part of the stronghold, attracted the girl's attention. Steps led up from the river to a small ricket in the arch which gave entrance into the Tower. "That is the Traitors' Gate," said Lord Shrope. "Through that wicket pass all those guilty of treason." A shudder passed over Francis as she gazed at the forbidding portals.
"It shall be as her mother says," said Lord Stafford turning to his wife who had stood as if stricken since hearing the advice of Lord Shrope. "Speak, my wife. Shall we keep our daughter, and defy Elizabeth " "Oh, no, no!" sobbed Lady Stafford. "I am loath to let her go, and yet I would not have her stay if by so doing we shall seem to defy the queen.
Fair mistress," he cried in distress offering his sword to her, "do one last favor for Edward Devereaux. Bury that sword in the breast of him who is unworthy to bear it." "In the name of St. George, what means this?" cried Lord Shrope as he and Lord Hunsdon ran out from among the trees. "By my faith, my lord," cried the chamberlain bursting into a laugh. "If there has not been a duel!"
"Didst confess to Edward?" laughed Lord Shrope. "You two should be great friends anent this." "No;" said Francis. "I confessed that he killed the deer, and that its horns were justly his. I will not retract that, but still do I count him mine enemy, even as his father and mine are at feud." "So be it," said Edward Devereaux mournfully. "Thou canst not, maiden, hate me more than I loathe myself."
With crestfallen visage Lord Shrope arose, bowed profoundly and hurried Francis out of the chamber. "I should have heeded thy warning, sir," he said to the usher. "Now I cannot seek the queen until she bids me to her." "What shall I do?" asked the girl almost in tears. "Whither shall I go?" "Thou shalt come with me, my child. My lady wife will look to thy comfort.
I have but one child, and that a daughter. She is here to speak for herself." "What is it, father?" asked Francis going to him, while Lord Shrope, the queen's messenger, looked his bewilderment. "The queen hath commanded that my son, Francis Stafford, shall accompany my Lord Shrope to the court to become one of her pensioners. He doubts my word when I say that I have no son."
The queen stood regarding her with those keen, piercing eyes whose fires age had not dimmed, and Francis met her gaze with a sort of fascination, her eyes dilated, her lips parted as she waited the issue. Presently Lord Shrope reentered the tent and with him there came one at sight of whom Francis gave a great cry. "My father!"
So soon as she was calm Lord Shrope motioned to the watermen and they drew up at the stairs which led to the great gate of the palace. Courtyard and terrace were filled with gaily-dressed ladies and nobles. Here a lady attended by her gentlewomen traced her way delicately, a gentleman-usher making way for her, her train upheld by a page.
Lady Shrope received the girl with kindness but her anxiety, when her husband recounted the manner of his reception by the queen, was great. "Thou hast no cause for fear," remarked Lord Shrope. "Elizabeth is the very muster of justice and honor. When she hath suffered a few hours to pass she will repent her of her injustice." The nobleman was right.
"Who could have sent them?" murmured Francis, again in ecstasy. It was so sweet not to be forgotten. To know that some one still remembered her. "Could it be my father? Nay; he would not dare. Lord Shrope? Yea; it must have been he. Good, kind friend that he is!" From this time forward her recovery was rapid.
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