CHAPTER XXVI
A FELLOW PRISONER
A merciful illness prostrated Francis for many weeks, and when at lengthshe crept slowly toward health, the winter had passed and spring wasabroad in the land. Her convalescence was tedious, owing to a settledmelancholy utterly unlike her usual buoyant disposition, which had takenpossession of her. Upon one point only did a gleam of her native spiritflash forth. This was when Mrs. Shelton, the wife of one of the keepers,brought her the apparel suitable to her sex.
"Nay; vex me not with them, good mistress," exclaimed Francis. "'Twas bymy father's command that I donned this attire, and, by my faith, I willexchange it for no other until he bids me."
"That may be never, Mistress Stafford," retorted the woman impatiently."Thou mayst never see him again."
"Then will I wear it to my grave," was Francis' answer. "I am fixed inthis resolve, Mistress Shelton, and naught can turn me from it."
"As ye please then," quoth the dame. "Full surely thou art as stubborn alady as it hath ever been my hap to see. But if ye will not, ye willnot;" and she took the garments away.
Francis now occupied her mother's apartment in the Bell Tower, andbecause of this fact found a curious contentment in it.
"It may be that her spirit lingers here loth to leave me alone," shethought, and she took to watching for a sign that such was the case.
She was roused from this dangerous train of thought by Mrs. Sheltonappearing before her one day with a basket of figs. The girl uttered anexclamation of delight at sight of them, so small a thing does it take toarouse interest sometimes.
"For me?" she cried. "Whence came they? Who could have sent them?"
"Ask me not, mistress. I know naught of them save that they came fromwithout the gates of the Tower. Sir Michael searched the basket, and asthere was nothing but the fruit, he let it pass."
"Who could have sent them?" murmured Francis, again in ecstasy. It was sosweet not to be forgotten. To know that some one still remembered her."Could it be my father? Nay; he would not dare. Lord Shrope? Yea; it musthave been he. Good, kind friend that he is!"
From this time forward her recovery was rapid. And when the followingmonth brought a bouquet of sweet smelling flowers, the third, a basket ofcherries, her joy knew no bounds. Thereafter no month went by withoutsome token reaching her from that unknown person who seemed so full ofsweet remembrance of her.
"Now blessings be upon his head who hath so much of thought for me," sheexclaimed rapturously as a guitar took the place of fruit or flowers. "Nomore shall I be lonely with such companion."
And so with books, guitar, and an occasional walk in the gardens of thelieutenant where she went to take the air, Francis passed her time notunhappily. She was upheld by the thought that she was not forgotten. Thussummer passed into fall; fall into winter, and winter in turn gave wayto spring, to that memorable spring of 1588 when all England was stirredby the rumor of the threatened invasion of Spain. At this time the giftsto Francis ceased, and such an important part of her existence had theybecome that their stoppage grieved her more than the threats of theinvasion.
Books and music lost interest, and she took to watching the comings andgoings of prisoners through the grated loop-hole overlooking the southward through which all personages must pass to reach the Garden Towerwhich was over the principal entrance to the inner ward. One day whilethus engaged she uttered an ejaculation and bent forward to take a nearerview of a prisoner who was just brought within by way of the Byward Towerthrough which lay the main gate to the Tower. This was used from TowerHill and by royalty when the Tower was used as a castle.
"What is it, deary?" asked Mrs. Shelton, who was in the chamber.
"Edward Devereaux," answered the girl excitedly. "Now why hath he beensent here? Gramercy! methought none of the pages stood higher in thequeen's favor than he."
"'Tis past knowing," remarked the woman in a matter-of-fact tone. "He whostands high with the queen to-day, to-morrow may be beheaded on TowerHill. Marry! 'tis better to be one of the people, for they are held dearby the queen. Beseems that Her Grace cares naught for the courtiers. Theyare always being sent here, either to be held in durance for life, elseto be beheaded. I am glad that I am not of the court."
Francis did not heed her words, but was so excited at beholding a facethat she knew that she leaned forward as far as she could, callingloudly:
"Edward! Edward Devereaux!"
The youth looked up, but the girl was uncertain as to whether he saw heror not. Mrs. Shelton hurried forward at the sound of her voice.
"Child!" she cried pulling her forcibly from the window, "dost want to betaken elsewhere and lodged? There are other towers far gloomier thanthis, and if thou carest not to taste their shadows thou wilt be morecircumspect."
"Thy pardon, mistress," said Francis recovering her self-possession. "Imeant not to transgress, 'tis the first time since I saw my mother that Ihave looked upon a face that was known to me. I could not but greet him,e'en though he be mine enemy."
"Thine enemy?" said the woman curiously. "How now, mistress? Tell me thetale. 'Twill speed the hour and, forsooth, there is need of entertainmenthere."
Thus adjured Francis related the story of the shooting of the deer; theincident of the duel; spoke of the enmity that had always existed betweenthe families of Staffords and Devereaux; narrated how Edward had favoredher when the Lady Priscilla Rutland had stolen her hair; concludingwith:
"Therefore, thou seest, good Mistress Shelton, that there can be naughtbut enmity betwixt us twain. He hath done me service, 'tis true, andotherwise is a proper youth, I dare say. Yet still he is mine enemy."
"'Yet still he is mine enemy,'" mocked Mrs. Shelton. "Marry, girl! 'Tismarvelous hate that thou showest when thou dost call to him when he hathbeen brought into durance. 'Yet still he is mine enemy.'" She laughed.
"Make merry, an ye will, mistress," said Francis, "but still is it as Itell ye."
"There, child! I meant not to vex thee," appeased the woman who had grownfond of Francis, so long had she been in her keeping. "I must learn moreof the lad."
"Do find why he hath been committed," cried the girl eagerly. "I can butwonder at it. Hath he too been engaged in treasonable enterprise----"
"Nay;" interrupted Mrs. Shelton, "for then he would have entered underthe tower of St. Thomas through the Traitor's Gate."
In a few days she reported to Francis that the charge against him was anominal one. He seemed to be committed only to be restrained of hisliberty and was given the privilege of the Tower, wandering through thewards at pleasure save only that he could not pass the outer walls of thefortress.
And so it happened one day that when Francis, attended by Mrs. Shelton,was taking the air in the lieutenant's garden Edward Devereaux chanced tobe walking there also. Seeing them he doffed his bonnet and approached,deferentially speaking to Mrs. Shelton:
"Gracious madam, may I be permitted to speak with your charge?"
"It is not the custom for one prisoner to hold converse with another,young sir," replied Mrs. Shelton. "But, as ye are enemies, I will indulgethy request, albeit ye speak that I may hear all."
"I thank you, madam, for your courtesy," replied the youth bowing."Mistress Francis, how fare you?"
"Well, Master Devereaux," answered Francis. "That is," she added, "aswell as one may fare who rests under the displeasure of the queen."
"You say truly," sighed Devereaux. "Yet, me thinks that to be under thequeen's displeasure brings not more ill than to stand high in hergrace."
"What mean you, Master Devereaux?"
"Why, truly, you lie under her ill will, and so abide in this grimfortress; 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 vainpleasures. I would play a man's part as did Sir Phillip Sidney. There wasa man, noble, chivalrous and brave! Ready to adventure
all things, yet hewas the flower of courtesy! He was my example. I wished, like him, toachieve renown, and so when the news came that the Armada was about toembark from Spain, I asked her leave to go with Drake, who was to setsail for Cadiz to obstruct the Spanish fleet's progress. She refused tolet me go, and so I ran away to Plymouth, where was my Lord Howard incharge of our ships there awaiting the coming of the enemy. But the queenheld me in so much favor that she feared for my safety, and so sent afterme, 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 heremewed up like a girl when every son of England should be in arms againstthe 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 thatFrancis flushed. The youth noted her annoyance and added quickly: "Andstill do you wear the dress of a page? Fie, Francis! art so enamored ofmale attire?"
"Nay; Master Devereaux," replied Francis. "I marvel that I tell thee whyI do so, seeing that it concerns thee not, but I wish not to don mymaiden 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 conspiratorssucceeded in escaping to that country."
"And Lord Shrope? How is he? Fain would I know, for truly he hath beenmine 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 hewho sent thee all those things."
"No; who, who could it have been? Methought in all England I had nofriend but him. Would that I knew the donor's name that I might cherishit 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 stillcherish his name?"
"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 theson 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 amendthe theft if possible." A merry twinkle crept into Edward's eye. "Andthou hast still to forgive me the blow I struck thee in our encounter."
"I should thank thee, Master Devereaux," said Francis constrainedly. "Ido thank thee from my heart, though I see no cause yet for thy action. Atanother season perchance I may be able to thank thee in manner morebefitting the courtesy. I thought it from a friend, and it grieves methat I find it otherwise. Pray you pardon me that I can do no more thansay, I thank you."
"'Tis enough," answered Edward. "At another season perchance thou maystfind it in thy heart to say, 'Ned, I forgive thee the deer; I forgivethee the blow that thou gavest me, and I forgive thee that thou art mineenemy.'"
"It may be," said the girl coldly. "Come, good mistress, 'tis time thatwe did go in. And so fare you well, Master Devereaux."
"Fare you well, mistress," answered Devereaux courteously.
In Doublet and Hose: A Story for Girls Page 26
