"Seek not to deny it, girl. One hath been here from the court. I know that every incident of the journey to Chartley, even to the meeting with Babington at Salisbury, is known to the queen. Who knew all this but thee? Fool that I was to confide in thee! But thou wert so cock-sure of thy ability! So apt and froward with thy promises, that I believed in thee." "My father, if there are those who say that I betrayed thee, they speak not the truth. I have come to warn thee of peril. Even now the pursuivants are on their way to take thee. Oh, sir! tarry no longer but fly. 'Tis death to be taken, father. Death!" She wrung her hands as her father stood there so unheedingly when time was so precious. "And if it be death, by whose hand hath it been wrought? Why hast thou dallied at court so long? Why dost thou still wear that garb which shames thy modesty?" "Father, hear me," cried Francis, flinging herself at his feet. "If ever thou didst bear aught of affection to her that kneels to thee, believe me when I say that I betrayed thee not. May my tongue be palsied if I speak not the truth. Father, by all the saints, I----" "False girl, perjure not thy soul," and he strove to release himself from her grasp. "Unclasp thine arms, Francis Stafford, and hearken to a father's curse. May----" "Hold, my lord!" shrieked Lady Stafford. "Curse not thy child! Curse not thine own flesh and blood!" "No child is she of mine, madam. Rather do I believe her some changeling forced upon us by witches' craft. Never did Stafford betray trust before! Stay me not! Whether child or changeling yet still shall she be cursed." "Father, father, I am innocent of having done this monstrous, wicked thing! 'Twas Anthony Babington that hath so maliciously spoken about me! I know----" "How know you that 'twas Babington?" demanded her father quickly. "Girl, thine own words condemn thee. Say no more! I will listen to thy false words no longer. I curse the day that thou wast born. I curse thee----" "Forbear," shrieked the girl in agonized tones. "O, father, withhold thy curse! Hear me for the love of mercy." But Lord Stafford tore himself from her clinging hands, and hastily left the room. "Father," cried Francis, darting after him. "Father!" He heeded her not, but strode out of the castle to the place where old Brooks held his horse. "Father, father!" The frantic girl reached him as he mounted his steed and held out her arms entreatingly. But the father answered never a word, and without another look at her gave spur to his horse, and dashed through the open gates of the court. Then a great cry of anguish broke from the girl's lips. A black mist rose before her eyes, engulfing her in its choking, smothering embrace. She swayed unsteadily and fell in an unconscious heap upon the ground. CHAPTER XXII AS IT FELL OUT When consciousness returned to Francis Stafford she was lying on a couch in the presence chamber with her mother bending over her.