Mr. Heatherthwayte still murmured something about "youth" and "lightly undertaken," and Master Talbot observed, with a smile, that when he had seen Humfrey he might judge as to the lightness of purpose.
Richard meanwhile was watching somewhat anxiously for the arrival of his son, who, he had reckoned, would make so much more speed than was possible for Cis, that he might have almost overtaken them, if the fatal business had not been delayed longer than he had seen reason to anticipate. However, these last words had not long been out of his mouth when a man's footsteps, eager, yet with a tired sound and with the clank of spurs, came along the paved way outside, and there was a knock at the door. Some one else had been watching; for, as the street door was opened, Cicely sprang forward as Humfrey held out his arms; then, as she rested against his breast, he said, so that she alone could hear, "Her last words to me were, 'Give her my love and blessing, and tell her my joy is come-such joy as I never knew before.'"
Then they knew the deed was done, and Richard said, "God have mercy on her soul!" Nor did Mr. Heatherthwayte rebuke him. Indeed there was no time, for Humfrey exclaimed, "She is swooning." He gathered her in his arms, and carried her where they lighted him, laying her on Oil's little bed, but she was not entirely unconscious, and rallied her senses so as to give him a reassuring look, not quite a smile, and yet wondrously sweet, even in the eyes of others. Then, as the lamp flashed on his figure, she sprang to her feet, all else forgotten in the exclamation.
"O Humfrey, thou art hurt! What is it? Sit thee down."
They then saw that his face was, indeed, very pale and jaded, and that his dress was muddied from head to foot, and in some places there were marks of blood; but as she almost pushed him down on the chest beside the bed, he said, in a voice hoarse and sunk, betraying weariness-
"Naught, naught, Cis; only my beast fell with me going down a hill, and lamed himself, so that I had to lead him the last four or five miles. Moreover, this cut on my hand must needs break forth bleeding more than I knew in the dark, or I had not frighted thee by coming in such sorry plight," and he in his turn gazed reassuringly into her eyes as she stood over him, anxiously examining, as if she scarce durst trust him, that if stiff and bruised at all, it mattered not. Then she begged a cup of wine for him, and sent Oil for water and linen, and Humfrey had to abandon his hand to her, to be cleansed and bound up, neither of them uttering a word more than needful, as she knelt by the chest performing this work with skilful hands, though there was now and then a tremor over her whole frame.
"Now, dear maid," said Richard, "thou must let him come with us and don some dry garments: then shalt thou see him again."
"Rest and food-he needs them," said Cis, in a voice weak and tremulous, though the self-restraint of her princely nature strove to control it. "Take him, father; methinks I cannot hear more to-night. He will tell me all when we are away together. I would be alone, and in the dark; I know he is come, and you are caring for him. That is enough, and I can still thank God."
Her face quivered, and she turned away; nor did Humfrey dare to shake her further by another demonstration, but stumbled after his father to the minister's chamber, where some incongruous clerical attire had been provided for him, since he disdained the offer of supping in bed.
Mr. Heatherthwayte was much struck with the undemonstrativeness of their meeting, for there was high esteem for austerity in the Puritan world, in contrast to the utter want of self-restraint shown by the more secular characters.
When Humfrey presently made his appearance with his father's cloak wrapped over the minister's clean shirt and nether garments, Richard said, "Son Humfrey, this good gentleman who baptized our Cis would fain be certain that there is no lightness of purpose in this thy design."
"Nay, nay, Mr. Talbot," broke in the minister, "I spake ere I had seen this gentleman. From what I have now beheld, I have no doubts that be she who she may, it is a marriage made and blessed in heaven."
"I thank you, sir," said Humfrey, gravely; "it is my one hope fulfilled."
They spoke no more till he had eaten, for he was much spent, having never rested more than a couple of hours, and not slept at all since leaving Fotheringhay. He had understood by the colour of the horse left at Nottingham which road to take, and at the hostel at Hull had encountered Gillingham, who directed him on to Mr. Heatherthwayte's.
What he brought himself to tell of the last scene at Fotheringhay has been mostly recorded by history, and need not here be dwelt upon. When Bourgoin and Melville fell back, unable to support their mistress along the hall to the scaffold, the Queen had said to him, "Thou wilt do me this last service," and had leant on his arm along the crowded hall, and had taken that moment to speak those last words for Cicely. She had blessed James openly, and declared her trust that he would find salvation if he lived well and sincerely in the faith he had chosen. With him she had secretly blessed her other child.
Humfrey was much shaken and could hardly command his voice to answer the questions of Master Heatherthwayte, but he so replied to them that, one by one, the phrases and turns were relinquished which the worthy man had prepared for a Sunday's sermon on "Go see now this accursed woman and bury her, for she is a king's daughter," and he even began to consider of choosing for his text something that would bid his congregation not to judge after the sight of their eyes, nor condemn after the hearing of their ears.
When Humfrey had eaten and drunk, and the ruddy hue was returning to his cheek, Mr. Heatherthwayte discovered that he must speak with his churchwarden that night. Probably the pleasure of communicating the tidings that the deed was accomplished added force to the consideration that the father and son would rather be alone together, for he lighted his lantern with alacrity, and carried off Dust-and- Ashes with him.
Then Humfrey had more to tell which brooked no delay. On the day after the departure of his father and Cicely, Will Cavendish had arrived, and Humfrey had been desired to demand from the prisoner an immediate audience for that gentleman. Mary had said, "This is anent the child. Call him in, Humfrey," and as Cavendish had passed the guard he had struck his old comrade on the shoulder and observed, "What gulls we have at Hallamshire."
He had come out from his conference fuming, and desiring to hear from Humfrey whether he were aware of the imposture that had been put on the Queen and upon them all, and to which yonder stubborn woman still chose to cleave-little Cis Talbot supposing herself a queen's daughter, and they all, even grave Master Richard, being duped. It was too much for Will! A gentleman, so nearly connected with the Privy Council, was not to be deceived like these simple soldiers and sailors, though it suited Queen Mary's purposes to declare the maid to be in sooth her daughter, and to refuse to disown her. He supposed it was to embroil England for the future that she left such a seed of mischief.
And old Paulett had been fool enough to let the girl leave the Castle, whereas Cavendish's orders had been to be as secret as possible lest the mischievous suspicion of the existence of such a person should spread, but to arrest her and bring her to London as soon as the execution should be over; when, as he said, no harm would happen to her provided she would give up the pretensions with which she had been deceived.
"It would have been safer for you both," said poor Queen Mary to Humfrey afterwards, "if I had denied her, but I could not disown my poor child, or prevent her from yet claiming royal rights. Moreover, I have learnt enough of you Talbots to know that you would not owe your safety to falsehood from a dying woman."