"Why, why," stammered Francis abashed by his harsh address and rude bearing. "I have no business. I only wished to see the queen." "Queen forsooth! Of what is she queen?" asked the other brusquely. "Of nothing, I trow. Not even is she mistress of her own actions. Queen forsooth!" "Thou speakest truly, Paulet," said the lady mildly. "Yet methinks it not becoming in thee to taunt Mary Stuart with the miserable state to which she hath been reduced. Boy, thou didst wish to see Mary. I am she." "Mary? Art thou in truth Queen Mary?" Francis exclaimed rapturously, and seeing the assenting smile on the lady's face she darted to her side and seizing her hand she kissed it fervently. "Oh," she cried, "if thou art Mary, know that mistress of thy actions thou mayst not be, but thou dost reign in truth a queen over this poor heart." The dark eyes of Mary Stuart filled with tears and she pressed the girl's hand tenderly. "Such homage is sweet to the poor captive, my lad. It gladdens our heart to know that there are some who still hold Mary in reverence. Take this and wear in remembrance of her who is grateful for even the homage of a page." She drew from her neck a chain of gold to which was attached a locket which she threw over the girl's head. With an exclamation of delight Francis pressed it to her lips passionately. "It shall never leave me while life lasts," she declared. "But may I not wait upon you at your castle, Your Highness? I would be of service to you." Her eyes sought the lady's with a meaning look that Mary was quick to catch. "Nay;" broke in Sir Amyas Paulet for the gruff old puritan was very rigid with his illustrious captive. "Thou hast had thy wish, boy, and obtained what was doubtless thy object: a chain for a kiss, a locket for an obeisance. It pays to give court to reduced royalty. Away with thee, and let me not see thy face at Chartley, else thou shalt meet a gruff reception." "Then farewell." Francis drew as close to the lady's side as she could. "There are letters," she whispered. "Away!" Sir Amyas laid a hand upon the bridle of Mary's horse and turned the animal from the girl. "I will have no whisperings. Away, boy!" "Be not overcome, my pretty lad," and Mary drew rein despite the protests of her uncivil guardian. "We thank thee for thy homage, and hope to see thee again when we journey forth. Farewell." "Farewell," returned Francis sinking upon one knee and saluting her. "I will see you again, Your Grace." With an impatient exclamation Sir Amyas Paulet gave a sharp blow to Mary's horse, which reared and plunged at the treatment, almost unseating the lady, able horsewoman though she was. The animal then dashed away followed by the grim old puritan and the remainder of the party who had halted at some little distance from them. As soon as they were out of sight Francis took the locket in her hand.