"Surely it was not thee, Edward Devereaux?" "It was even I, Francis Stafford." "But why, why?" asked she in bewilderment. "You are mine enemy and the son of my father's enemy. Why then shouldst thou show such favor to me?" "I robbed thee of that deer, Francis. 'Twas fitting that I should amend the theft if possible." A merry twinkle crept into Edward's eye. "And thou hast still to forgive me the blow I struck thee in our encounter." "I should thank thee, Master Devereaux," said Francis constrainedly. "I do thank thee from my heart, though I see no cause yet for thy action. At another season perchance I may be able to thank thee in manner more befitting the courtesy. I thought it from a friend, and it grieves me that I find it otherwise. Pray you pardon me that I can do no more than say, I thank you." "'Tis enough," answered Edward. "At another season perchance thou mayst find it in thy heart to say, 'Ned, I forgive thee the deer; I forgive thee the blow that thou gavest me, and I forgive thee that thou art mine enemy.'" "It may be," said the girl coldly. "Come, good mistress, 'tis time that we did go in. And so fare you well, Master Devereaux." "Fare you well, mistress," answered Devereaux courteously. CHAPTER XXVII THE ESCAPE Frequently after this Francis saw Edward Devereaux in the garden, but she preserved such a distant demeanor toward him that the youth did not dare to address her. "Fie upon thee, lady bird," chided Mrs. Shelton. "Is it thus that thou dost requite such favor? Thou dost not deserve to be remembered." "But I thought that the gifts came from Lord Shrope," said Francis. "And they are from mine enemy." "But they served the self-same purpose, chuck, as if they were in truth from him. Did they not rouse thee from thy depression? I tell thee that I have been long in these grim walls, and I have seen men of high degree forgotten and forsaken by friends. They have remained here years without one token from without. Thou hast been favored to no small extent, and now thou dost repine and will not touch thy guitar because, forsooth, 'twas sent thee by 'thine enemy.' Marry! Pray Heaven send me such enemies!" "It may be that I have been somewhat ungracious," said Francis penitently. "If thou wilt permit, good mistress, I will tell the lad so. But I wish it had been my Lord Shrope." "Out upon thee for such a wish, child! Marry! to desire to be remembered by an old man rather than by a young, handsome----" she laughed and added slyly, "enemy. Were he not in the queen's favor thou couldst not have liberty to speak with him, and thou art foolish to let slip such opportunity for converse. The queen may repent her of his imprisonment at any time, and then thou mayst never see another to hold communion with." "Am I always to stay here, Mrs. Shelton?" asked Francis wistfully. "Though in truth were I to be freed I would not know where to go. Still 'tis hard to be shut up within this dreary place." "I know not, child."