It was a dreary journey. The motive which had sustained the girl in her former trip from the city to her home was lacking. The fatigue incident to travel, the unjust reception of her by her father, with the doubtfulness of his escape, and the uncertainty of what was to become of her mother and herself, now bore upon her with such overwhelming force as to almost crush even her brave spirit. Lady Stafford suffered a like mental anguish, and so, on account of the weakness of the two prisoners, the guard was compelled to return to the city by slow stages. Upon their entrance within the gates they found that the whole city was in an uproar, caused by the apprehension of Anthony Babington and several others of the conspirators. Bells were ringing, bonfires burning and the most vehement satisfaction expressed by the people, who, with shouts and singing of psalms, gave every demonstration of joy at the escape of the queen from their treasonable designs. When it became known that these two were also implicated, a hooting, jeering mob followed them through the streets, hurling vile epithets upon them, and taunting them with their disgrace. Lady Stafford drooped under the attack, but the assault roused the spirit in Francis, and she sat erect, her flashing eyes and contemptuous looks bespeaking the tempest that raged in her heart. "Bear up, my mother," she said to Lady Stafford who could scarcely sit her horse. "Give not the rabble cause to laugh and jibe." "But, my child, that we of the house of Stafford, be thus dishonored!" exclaimed the lady in anguish. "Oh, I cannot bear it! I cannot bear it! Carest thou not for this disgrace?" "I could weep my heart out, if it would avail aught," uttered Francis in low, intense tones. "Bethink you, mother, that this mob of the streets shall see one tear from me? Nay; 'twould give them too much of pleasure." "And has it come to this? That thou shouldst be an example to thy mother?" asked the lady sitting up. "Let them rage! Not another tear shall they behold. There will be time enough for tears later." And so saying she followed her daughter's example and rode with uplifted head, apparently indifferent to the taunts of the people who followed them down to the waterside, even to the wharf where they embarked for the Tower. Babington and his companions occupied another boat which preceded them down the river, and Francis felt relief when she saw that her father was not among them. The tide being in their favor, the boat passed swiftly down the river, shot London Bridge, and all too soon drew near the sombre mass of the Tower.