It was that darkest hour of the night, the one just before the dawn, that Francis was summoned to attend her father. None of the household was stirring save Brooks, an old servitor, who stood at the foot of the steps with the horses. The statues of terrace and court gleamed ghostly white in the darkness, and the grim old keep frowned darkly upon them. The deserted aspect of the courtyard filled the girl with dismay. High purposes and noble resolves flourish in the bright light of day and grow into mightiness in the first hours of the night, but the early dawn chills enthusiasm and makes the inspirations of the night before seem poor and weak and hardly worth an effort. Something of this feeling oppressed Francis Stafford. She missed the shouting of the gallants, the screaming of the hawks, the yelping of the dogs and the blowing of horns that was the accompaniment of a hunting-party. Instead of such a triumphal departure there was only the low sobbing of Lady Stafford as she bade them farewell. "My lord, you will have great care for you both, will you not?" she murmured, trying to control her emotion. "Oh, I like not the journey! I like it not!" "Be not dismayed," comforted her husband. "We will return soon, and there is no danger. We will be with thee again ere thou hast had time to miss us." The lady said no more but embraced them mournfully. Both father and child were silent as they swept out of the courtyard into the park beyond. Presently the sky began to soften in the east, and the gray uncertain light gave place to the blushing dawn. Soon the dark shadows that lurked under the trees fled before the golden beams of the sun. Suddenly the note of a lark rang out silvery and joyous. Bird after bird took up the note until from every tree and shrub there swelled a grand chorus as larks and throstles poured forth their matin song of praise. "How beautiful!" cried Francis, her eyes sparkling, her spirits rising. "My father, right glad am I to be here with thee." "Thine is a wild spirit, Francis," said her father rousing himself. "You mind me of these birds, so wild and free yet sweet withal. Child, mayhap I have done ill in taking thee thus from thy mother. And yet, we are not in the queen's favor! Should misfortune overtake one it would involve all." "Father, if by act of mine I can further thy purpose, make use of me, I pray. Glad am I that thou dost deem me worthy of thy confidence. And do we not go to the aid of Mary, our rightful queen? What excuse need we for so doing? Oh, if I can once behold her, can but once kiss her hand, then would I be willing to lose even my life if 'twere needful." Lord Stafford smiled at her enthusiasm.