"My father? Nay; I know not where he is. I have not seen him since I entered the Tower nearly two years ago," answered the girl. The queen said something in a low tone to Lord Shrope. That nobleman immediately left the tent, and all eyes centred expectantly upon the queen. Francis looked at her with a growing anxiety as she remained silent. Was she going to remand her to the Tower? Were not her services deserving of some recognition? What was meant by that continued stillness? 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!" And not even the presence of the queen could prevent her from running forward to embrace him. Her father gave no sign that he knew of her presence, but advancing to where the queen stood, knelt before her saying: "You sent for me, Your Grace, and I am here." "My Lord Stafford," said Elizabeth affably, "thou knowest that when thou didst present thyself before us, beseeching us to permit you to be of service in defending our person, that we agreed that time should prove thy worth. My lord, thou and thy son have redeemed yourselves nobly in our eyes. Rise, my lord! You are restored to your right of blood and to your property. Thy son also hath our full and free forgiveness." "Madam, thou art graciousness itself," said Lord Stafford kissing her hand. "I do repent me of all my transgression against you, but from this time forth, my queen, by the grace of God, you will have no stauncher subject than William Stafford. As for my daughter----" "Thy daughter?" cried Elizabeth. "Thy daughter? What mean you, Stafford?" "He means, Your Highness," cried Lord Shrope, "that his son is not a boy, but a girl." "Hold thy tongue, Shrope!" commanded the queen sharply. "Thy wits are addled. Who is there who will read the riddle clearly? Thou, Francis Stafford?" But Francis, utterly miserable in that her father took no notice of her, was sobbing bitterly and therefore could not reply. "Let me read it, Your Majesty," said Lord Stafford, and receiving consent he related the whole story from the time of her coming to Stafford Hall, concluding with, "I know not, Your Highness, why she doth continue to wear the garb unless from dire perversity----" "Nay;" cried Francis, her spirit asserting itself. "'Tis because 'twas at thy bidding that I donned it, and I vowed never to remove it until thou didst bid me so to do. Oh, would that I had perished in battle ere thy hardness toward me should pierce me with such agony!" And she again gave way to her grief. "Why, what hath she done, my lord?" asked the queen curiously. "She betrayed my trust, Your Grace," answered Lord Stafford.