A sense of desolation swept over the girl as the full realization of the situation burst upon her, and the blackness of despair filled her soul with anguish. She was alone. She had no one to lean upon. No ear to which she could impart her sorrows. Her mother a prisoner like herself. Her father--a fugitive wandering she knew not whither. As the bitterness of her lot assailed her in all its force she could no longer control herself but gave way to a passionate burst of grief. She looked at the stone walls by which she was enclosed, the massive iron-girded door and the hopelessness of her situation bore with crushing weight upon her. There was no eye to see, no longer need for control, and she gave vent to her despair unrestrainedly. At length the fountain of her tears was dry, and becoming more composed she sought to regain her fortitude. "I have done no wrong," she said aloud. "No wrong? Was it wrong to give those letters to Mary? But my father bade me. My father! Ah, no word of that must pass my lips. Cruel and unjust he hath been, but never shall word or act of mine bear witness against him. I must fortify my soul for I fear that I will be questioned." Her foreboding proved true. Early the next morning the door leading into the chamber was opened, and Sir Francis Walsingham with two others entered. Francis' heart sank at sight of them, but she nerved herself for the ordeal. "Good-morrow, Master Stafford," said the secretary courteously. "We give you good-morrow." "Good-morrow, Sir Francis. And to you, gentlemen, good-morrow," returned she. "My lad," said Walsingham not unkindly, seating himself before her, "thou art charged with a heinous crime, and methinks that thou art too young to be concerned in such weighty matters. Therefore, am I with these lords, come to examine thee somewhat anent it." "With what am I charged, sir?" asked Francis. "With that most atrocious of all crimes,--treason," was the reply. "My lord, I meant not to be guilty of treason against the queen," said the girl earnestly. "If aught that I have done seemeth so in her eyes, believe me I pray you, when I say that it was not so intended." "I do believe it," answered the secretary. "I think that thou hast been made use of by others to further design of bold and unscrupulous men. Didst thou ever meet with Anthony Babington?" "Yes, Sir Francis." "Where?" "Once at Salisbury, and once in the forest as I left London." "What passed at those meetings?" Walsingham drew closer, expecting from the girl's demeanor to find ready answers to his inquiries. "I cannot tell you, sir, of the nature of the first," answered Francis. "I will gladly do so of the second." "Relate it then." "He was trying to make his escape when his design upon the queen became known. He sprang upon me when I was unaware, seized the bridle of my horse, and demanded that I give the animal to him." "Which you refused?" "Which I refused to do, sir." "Did he recognize you?" "Yes." "And you him?"