"Not now, my child, while thy hurt is recent, but later thy mother must not sue to thee in vain. But, Francis, come to my tiring room. I mislike that garb. Methinks it hath caused all our woe. Come, and let me see thee in thy proper attire once more." "Nay;" said Francis resolutely, "from this time forth I wear none other. 'Twas at my father's bidding that I donned it. I will discard it only when he calls me 'daughter' again. Otherwise I shall go to my grave Francis Stafford, the page." "Francis, Francis," wailed the lady, "thou art distraught. Entertain not such purpose, I entreat. Soften thy proud heart, and be not stubborn when thy mother pleads with thee. For my sake, child, remove that dress." "Nay, mother;" replied she obdurately, "seek not to change my purpose, for it is fixed. This page's dress I wear until my father takes me once more to his heart." "Thou art as unyielding and inflexible as thy sire," cried her mother. "What can I do between ye? Have thy way, thou wilful girl! Naught remains for thy mother but to pray that the day may be hastened when all will be well with us again." Just then there came a clattering of hoofs in the courtyard, and the sound of voices. Lady Stafford sprang to her feet in alarm. "What is it?" she cried. "Oh, child, what if they have taken thy father?" "'Tis the queen's men," said Francis starting up. "They seek my father, but they seek in vain. I have foiled them." A sense of exultation swept over her, causing her to forget for the time her father's distrust. She faced the men who entered the apartment triumphantly. "What seek ye?" she demanded with scorn. "Thy father, boy, and thee," was the reply. "We know that thou hast warned him so that he hath given us the slip. But marry! the game is but afoot, and we the greyhounds who will bring him to bay. Of him anon. Here is a warrant for one Francis Stafford. Art thou he?" "I am," answered the girl haughtily. "Then, Francis Stafford, son of William, Lord Stafford, in the name of the queen, I arrest thee on a charge of high treason." "Arrest thee, Francis?" cried her mother flinging her arms about the girl. "Oh, child, why thee?" "I was with my father at Chartley, mother," said Francis calmly. "If he be guilty of treason, why, then so am I." "But I knew not that thou wert in danger," sobbed the mother. "Oh, Francis, why didst thou not go with thy father? Why didst thou not tell him of it? Why, why?" "I did not think of it," answered Francis simply. "I thought only of him." "How thou hast been misjudged," exclaimed the lady weeping bitterly. "Oh, cruel, cruel fate that hath befallen thee!" "Cease thy lamentation, woman," commanded the officer sternly. "Make ready to accompany thy son to London." "I?" "My mother!" exclaimed Francis and her mother in one breath.