"You say truly," sighed Devereaux. "Yet, me thinks that to be under the queen's displeasure brings not more ill than to stand high in her grace." "What mean you, Master Devereaux?" "Why, truly, you lie under her ill will, and so abide in this grim fortress; while I, who am her favorite page, do dwell in the same place." "But wherefore?" asked Francis. "Of what crime hast thou been guilty?" "None, Francis. Save and except that I wearied of the court and its vain pleasures. I would play a man's part as did Sir Phillip Sidney. There was a man, noble, chivalrous and brave! Ready to adventure all things, yet he was the flower of courtesy! He was my example. I wished, like him, to achieve renown, and so when the news came that the Armada was about to embark from Spain, I asked her leave to go with Drake, who was to set sail for Cadiz to obstruct the Spanish fleet's progress. She refused to let me go, and so I ran away to Plymouth, where was my Lord Howard in charge of our ships there awaiting the coming of the enemy. But the queen held me in so much favor that she feared for my safety, and so sent after me, and had me conveyed hither to remain until the danger be over. Gramercy!" he broke forth his lips curling with scorn, "am I to stay here mewed up like a girl when every son of England should be in arms against the Spaniard?" "But are the Spaniards coming, in truth, Edward?" "So rumor hath it, Francis. 'Twas said that they have set sail already, but I know not the truth of the matter." "Thou art not much changed," said Francis presently. "But thou art, Francis. Thou art taller, and thinner; yea, and paler," observed Devereaux with such a note of compassion in his voice that Francis flushed. The youth noted her annoyance and added quickly: "And still do you wear the dress of a page? Fie, Francis! art so enamored of male attire?" "Nay; Master Devereaux," replied Francis. "I marvel that I tell thee why I do so, seeing that it concerns thee not, but I wish not to don my maiden dress until my father bids me. How long that will be, I trow not, since I have heard naught of him since I came to this place." "Thy father dwells in France. He with some others of the conspirators succeeded in escaping to that country." "And Lord Shrope? How is he? Fain would I know, for truly he hath been mine only friend in this dire time of need." "Lord Shrope hath been in the Netherlands for nigh two years past, Francis." "Marry, child!" exclaimed Mrs. Shelton. "Then it could not have been he who sent thee all those things." "No; who, who could it have been? Methought in all England I had no friend but him. Would that I knew the donor's name that I might cherish it forever." "'Twas thine enemy, Francis. Oh, stupid girl, where are thine eyes! See, his looks betray him," laughed Mrs. Shelton. "Was it thou, Edward Devereaux?" demanded Francis. "Well, what if it were thine enemy, Francis? What then? Wouldst still cherish his name?"