"We must hasten," said the man who had come to their assistance. "The whole garrison is aroused."

With all the speed they could muster they hurried to the Tower wharf where a boat was in waiting.

"Devereaux," said a man grasping the hand of the youth, "is it thou?"

"In very truth 'tis I, Walter. And right glad am I to be here. But hasten, beseech you. I would not be retaken for all the wealth of Spain."

The boat shot out from the wharf into the river, and passed swiftly down the stream.



CHAPTER XXVIII

THE THREE VOLUNTEERS

Some distance down the river a vessel lay at anchor. To this the boat made its way and lay alongside. Devereaux, the young man whom he had called Walter, and Francis scrambled aboard, and the wherry put off. The sails of the ship were raised, and, as she glided swiftly toward the open sea, Devereaux gave a shout of exultation.

"Now for Plymouth and the Dons," he cried gaily. "Oh, Francis, is it not glorious to be free?"

"Yes;" replied Francis, scarce able to speak so overcome was she by her emotion.

"And as soon as we touch Plymouth thou canst take passage in another vessel for France."

Then indeed did the girl turn upon him with flashing eyes.

"France?" she cried. "Go to France while England is in danger? Never! Never! At Plymouth do I stay, Edward Devereaux, with the fleet. I am resolved to meet the Dons as well as thou."

"But, Francis, thy faith! 'Tis the same as the Spaniards! Thou canst not meet them."

"'Tis true that I am Catholic, but still am I not born English? Never would I see alien foot tread English soil, be the intruder of whatever faith he may."

"And there spake a true Englishman," said he whom Edward had called Walter. "So spake Charles Howard, Lord High Admiral of the navy. And so also hath spoken every true Englishman of Roman Catholic faith. Who is thy friend, Edward? I was surprised to find that another accompanied thee in thy flight from the Tower."

As Devereaux opened his lips to reply, Francis touched his hand warningly and answered for herself.

"I am Francis Stafford. I was imprisoned in the Tower charged with treason to the queen, though of that I am innocent."

"Well, Master Stafford, prove thy mettle at this, England's time of need, and it may be that England's queen will overlook thy past transgressions. I am Walter Mildemay, kinsman of Edward Devereaux, and a true subject of the queen's majesty, save and except for abetting the rescue of Edward Devereaux. For that I hope to make my peace with the queen if we meet the Spaniards."

"Hath their ships been sighted yet, Walter?" asked Edward.

"Nay; but they watch for them hourly as they have been doing for days. 'Twill surely not be much longer till they come."

The summer's sun was casting its lengthening shadows across the quiet harbor of Plymouth as the little vessel containing the three, Walter Mildemay, Edward Devereaux, and Francis Stafford, anchored not far from the town. A boat put off, bearing the three named to the place where they had been informed Admiral Lord Howard was.

It was the memorable evening of July 19, 1588, and an exciting game of bowls was being played upon the green back of the Pelican Inn known to every officer of Her Majesty's navy. Standing round the bowling alley were a group of men watching the game with interest. Lord Howard of Effingham, the Lord High Admiral of England; Sir Robert Southwell, his son-in-law, the captain of the Elizabeth Joncas; Sir Walter Raleigh and Sir Richard Grenville; Martin Frobisher and John Davis; John Hawkins and his pupil, Sir Francis Drake, the vice admiral of the fleet.

The three paused as they entered this illustrious group. Sir Walter Raleigh was the first to spy them.

"Ha, my apt pupil of the sword!" he cried. "Why came you hither?"

"We are come to join the fleet," answered Francis boldly.

"Lord Howard, here be three more volunteers," cried Raleigh. "Verily it beseems that all of England's sons have come forth for the fight."

"And they have done well," answered the deep voice of the noble admiral.

"'Come the three corners of arms, And we shall shock them! Nought shall make us rue, If England to herself do rest but true.'

So says that knave—Will Shakespeare. Edward, thou here again? I thought the queen held thee in durance?"

"She did, my lord admiral," returned Devereaux. "But think you that I was to be mewed up like a girl when England had need of me? I trow not!"

"Spoken like a true Englishman, boy, save the slur upon the girl. Know, Master Edward, that so enthusiastic are women and girls that if we men wax faint hearted in the strife English women and English maidens will take up the battle for their country."

"I crave pardon, my lord. Such speech was unworthy an Englishman when the proof is by his——"

"I am Francis Stafford, my lord," interrupted the girl, knowing full well what Edward was about to say. "My father and I were accused of treason to the queen when Anthony Babington conspired against her life. I escaped from the Tower in company with Master Devereaux. Do not, I beseech you, say me nay when I plead for place with you. I would fain prove that I am a true and loyal subject of Her Majesty."

"And thou shalt be given the opportunity, lad. And thou, young sir," to Walter Mildemay, "art thou escaped from the Tower also?"

"Nay, sir; I am but accessory to their flight," replied the young man.

"The saints preserve us!" ejaculated his lordship piously. "Now Heaven send the Dons soon else I shall have such a storm about mine ears as never wind did raise."

At this moment an old sailor burst into the midst of the group.

"My lord, my lord!" cried the weather-beaten old salt to the lord high admiral, "they're coming. I saw 'em off the Lizard last night; they're coming full sail, hundreds of 'em a darkening the waters!"

A cheer rose from the lips of the men; a spirit of excitement stirred every heart. Nay; not every breast, for Sir Francis Drake, the vice admiral, said coolly to his chief as he hurled the bowl along the smooth, worn planks:

"There will be time enough to finish the game, and then we'll go out and give the Dons a thrashing."

And now the beacon lights flashed the news from hilltop to hilltop, and on to London, and thence northward to the Scottish borders, and westward throughout Wales until every village and town of every shire in England thrilled with the tidings. Forgetful of religious dissensions, of feud, and of private wrong, all Englishmen arose as one man to repel the invading foe.

Amidst all the confusion incident to the announcement of the old seaman, Devereaux drew Francis aside and whispered entreatingly:

"Francis, I implore thee to remain here. 'Tis not seemly that thou shouldst board ship. There will be fighting, and——"

"And thou wouldst have all the glory, Edward Devereaux," cried the girl unjust as she often was when indignant. "Dost thou think that I fear? What hath life to yield that would equal the sweetness of striking one blow for England? Think you an English girl cannot fight as well as an English lad?"

"Nay, nay, Francis; but for my sake——"

"For thy sake?" echoed the girl in surprise. "Why should I stay for thy sake? Come! we lose time."



CHAPTER XXIX

A BRITOMARTE OF THE ARMADA

The call was sounded. It rang through every ship like a trumpet note and every man sprang to his duty.

"On to the Dons! No Spanish Inquisition!" was the watch-cry of the English navy, and with great difficulty, for the wind was against them, they steered for the open sea.

It was not until the next day that they came within sight of the Armada. The most powerful fleet that had ever been known since the beginning of time. Blest by the pope, sent forth amid the prayers and the fastings of the people, the fleet had been cleared of every unclean thing, for haughty England who styled herself the mistress of the seas was to be humbled upon her own element and made to yield her lands to the foreigners.

The great Spanish ships, built high like castles and towers, stretched in the form of a crescent measuring at least seven miles from horn to horn. They came slowly on, and, although under full sail, yet as though the winds labored and the ocean sighed under the burden of it, says Camden. When they reached the open channel Lord Howard discovered his policy to his men.

They were not to come to close quarters with the towering, unwieldy galleons, but to pour broadside after broadside into them at a distance and to bide their opportunity to fall upon them. Nearer and nearer drew the two fleets, the Spanish preparing to begin the action at daybreak. But at two o'clock the gibbous moon arose in a clear sky and showed to the astonished Spanish the English fleet lying in their rear just out of cannon shot.

The next morning Lord Howard, sending before him a pinnace called the Defiance, provoked the fight by discharging a piece of her ordnance and presently out of his own ship, called the Ark Royal, thundered upon a Spanish craft which he supposed was that of the Spanish Admiral, Medina Sidonia, but which proved to be that of Alphonso de Leon.

At the same time Drake, Hawkins and Frobisher fell terribly upon the rear which was valiantly commanded by Juan Martinez de Recaldo. The English invaded, retired, and re-invaded them from every quarter with incredible celerity. The Spanish captain general was nonplused. The English ships ran in, doing as much damage as possible without coming to close quarters, while his lumbering craft were useless to chase and cripple so agile an enemy. The great galleons and galleasses of Spain towered beside the English ships like "Flemish dray horses beside light Arabian coursers."

Fiercer waxed the fight. Recaldo finding his vessel much battered, rejoined his chief with difficulty and Medina re-collecting his scattered vessels held on his course. For two hours the fight continued, and then Lord Howard thought best to retire to await the coming of other ships which had not yet left the harbor.

Flushed and elated with the victory, with not a single vessel and scarcely a man lost, the English exulted that the great Armada which had been devised to strike terror into their hearts was not so invincible after all.

"Is it not glorious, Edward," cried Francis Stafford from a coil of rope upon which she had thrown herself. "How the Dons flew! Oh, 'tis enough to stir a stone to enthusiasm!"

"'Twould be glorious, Francis, were it not for thee," answered the youth. "The thought that thou art here hampers my every action, and always am I looking to see that thou art safe. Would thou wert in England; even in the Tower so that thou wert not here."

"And wherefore? Do I not bear myself as becomes an English lad?" cried Francis. "In all the wide world there is no place that I would rather be than upon the deck of the Ark Royal. So from henceforth speak no more of this. And, Edward, drop no hint of my sex to any. Wherefore should not an English maiden espouse the cause of her country as well as an English youth? Thou seest that there are lads here as maiden like in appearance as I. Give no thought to me, I beseech you."

"I will speak of it no more, Francis," rejoined Devereaux. "And yet I would that thou wert not here."

The girl turned from him impatiently, and hastily joined a group of which the admiral was the centre; for Lord Howard had taken them upon his own vessel.

The next night the air was stormy and the night dark. The English fleet was startled by an explosion on one of the Spanish ships and soon the flames were seen to spring high into the air. But other ships went to her aid and the fire was soon quenched, but the principal galleon of Seville commanded by Pedro de Valdez collided with another vessel and, her foremast being broken, was forsaken and became a prey to Sir Francis Drake.

Dark as the night was, Lord Howard on the Ark Royal, accompanied by two ships only—the Mary and the Rose—hotly pursued the Spaniards. The rest of the English fleet lay still because Drake had neglected to carry a lighted lantern in the poop of his vessel as had been commanded.

At break of day, having a prosperous north wind, the Spaniards bore down upon the English, but the English, to take advantage of the wind, turned westward. And then began a series of maneuvres in which each fleet contended to deprive each other of the benefit of the wind. The contest did not last long and before noon the English having slipped between the Armada and the land bore down upon them right before the wind.

And then began a fierce fight which was waged with varying success. For, while in one place the English valiantly rescued the ships of London which were hemmed in by the Spaniards, in another Recaldo, being in danger, was disengaged with no less resolution by the Spaniards. Never before was such lightning and thunder of artillery heard, most of which, notwithstanding, went vainly from the Spanish, flying clear over the English ships. Only Cock, an Englishman, died gloriously in the midst of his enemies upon his own small bark.

The English ships being of lesser build than the Spanish invaded the Spaniards with great dexterity and having discharged their ordnance withdrew into the open sea and leveled all their shot with a certain and successful aim at the ponderous Spanish vessels.

And still the English admiral thought it not best to grapple and risk the fortune of a hand-to-hand fight. For the enemy had a strong and well appointed army aboard which he lacked, and, their ships standing higher than his own vessels, threatened nothing less than certain destruction to those fighting them from below. This was the most fierce and bloody skirmish of all, though it only resulted in the capture of one huge galleon and a few small craft by the English. There was a mutual cessation of hostilities for all the next day for the wind fell dead and each fleet was compelled to drift idly with the tide.

The calm was still unbroken when the next day dawned, the twenty-fifth day of the month sacred to St. James, the patron saint of Spain. A small galleon of Portugal called the Saint Anne being unable to keep pace with the rest of the fleet was set upon by a number of small English craft, seeing which three of the great galleasses rowed furiously to her aid. Lord Howard's Ark Royal, the Golden Lion of his brother, Lord Sheffield's Bear, and others towed by fisher boats met them with such salvos of shot that, had not the Spanish fleet come up to rescue them, they would have shared the fate of Valdez. After this time the galleasses would not fight again. The wind sprang up by noon and the fight became general. All afternoon it raged, and then, terribly battered, the Armada would fight no more; but, "gathering into a roundel" set all sail for Calais, where Medina hoped to find a force from the French to help him and then to Dunkirk to join with Parma and the great flotilla of the Netherlands.

And so with a full southwest wind the Spanish fleet went on, the English fleet following them. It was determined not to attack them until they reached the straits of Calais, where Lord Seymour and William Winter would join the navy.

Meantime Lord Howard conferred Knighthood upon John Hawkins, Martin Frobisher, Thomas Howard, Lord Sheffield and Roger Townsend for valor and fortitude. And now from every bay and harbor of England there put forth numbers of small craft hired by the youth of England, who hastened to join themselves to the fleet, for the Spanish fleet, though battered and dispirited, was not yet broken, and should it be joined by the forces which Medina expected all would indeed go ill with England.

The Armada anchored in Calais Roads and within cannon shot of it lay the English fleet. The next day being the Sabbath both fleets observed the day with appropriate services, the loud chants of the Spaniard mingling strangely with the hymns of the English.

Francis Stafford, wearied and fatigued, retired to the cabin and, finding it deserted, swung a hammock in one corner and clambering into it was soon fast asleep.

"I tell thee, Drake," 'twas the voice of Lord Howard that awakened her, "the queen must have been inspired to invent so ingenious a device. If it succeeds——"

"It will succeed, my lord," interrupted Drake positively, "That is if there can be found men who will adventure it. But it will take cool heads and stout hearts and an absolute fearlessness of danger. I think I know two men who will go but there must be others."

Instantly the girl sat upright in the hammock.

"My lord," she cried, "send me."

Lord Howard and Sir Francis Drake started in astonishment.

"Boy, I thought thee asleep," cried the admiral. "How long hast thou been awake?"

"But just to hear you say that you needed men for some service," answered Francis, springing lightly out of the hammock.

"I said men, not boys," said Drake smiling.

"Speak not so, Sir Francis," reproved the admiral. "The lad hath borne well his part though he is so slight and maiden-like."

"And there is this to be considered," went on Francis eagerly. "I have escaped from the Tower. My father, as ye know, is an exile. What lies before me but imprisonment, or that worse than death, exilement from my native land. 'Twere better to send me whatever may be the hazard than others who can illy be spared."

"Listen, boy, and thou shalt hear what the enterprise is. I trow that it will quell even thy brave spirit, burning though it be with valor. This night some of our ships covered over with rosin and pitch and filled with sulphur, gunpowder and other combustibles, are to be sent into the midst of the Spanish, fired and set adrift amongst them. 'Tis fraught with great danger and peril to the lives of those who adventure it."

"Still let me be one of them," pleaded the girl earnestly.

"There is much in the lad's favor," said Drake meditatively. "He speaks truth when he declares that it would be best to send one who lies under the queen's disfavor than another."

"Yes; and if successfully performed it may bring him pardon. Elizabeth cannot but look with favor upon those who help to carry out a project devised by herself. Drake, I give my consent for the lad to go."

"Perchance Edward Devereaux——" began Francis and then paused. What right had she to bring another into peril that might result in loss of life? But Lord Howard laughingly said:

"Another youth, Sir Francis, who burns to distinguish himself."

"Then let him have his chance," was the vice-admiral's reply. "You and I would have jumped at such opportunity, my lord."

"Go you then, Stafford, to Master Devereaux and tell him privately of the enterprise. 'Twill be naught against him if he chooses not to accompany the expedition. If he should so select, come to me, both of you."

Francis eagerly sought young Devereaux. It so chanced that he stood for the moment apart from his fellows. Joining him she said in a low tone:

"Edward, do you wish to adventure a most perilous undertaking?"

"Marry! Francis Stafford! how canst thou ask such question? Thou knowest that I burn to do something. It chafes me to be so inactive while in such near distance lies the Spaniard."

"Then hearken! This night ships besmeared with pitch and rosin and filled with combustibles are to be sent into the midst of yon fleet. Two men are already chosen to guide them thither, and thou and I can accompany them also. But the admiral bids me say that it may be dangerous."

"Huzzah!" pealed forth from the lips of the youth like the blast of a trumpet.

"Hush!" whispered Francis. "He desires it not to be made public. Come to him."

She could scarce keep pace with his eagerness as he bounded before her into the presence of the English commanders.

"I thank you, my lords," he said bowing to them, "for this opportunity. When shall we be off?"

The two men could not forbear a smile.

"There is no hurry, Devereaux," said Lord Howard. "It will be after night falls before the ships are started. Art sure that the peril is well understood? It may be that you will not come back."

"It may be so, sir," answered the young man. "Sir Francis or any one of us may be taken in the next engagement. But who would preserve life if by giving it he may keep England and England's queen from the invader?"

"Spoken like a true Englishman, lad," cried Drake heartily. "Now, my lord, these two will return with me and, in God's name, with my two Devon men we shall this night so put upon the Spaniards as they shall ne'er dream of setting foot on English soil again."

"Go," said the lord admiral placing an arm about the neck of each. "Go, my lads. My hopes and prayers go with you. And should aught happen to ye, the queen shall know that ye died in her service. And so fare you well."

"Fare you well," answered they both and followed after Drake to his own boat—The Revenge.

About two o'clock Monday morning eight ships smeared all over the outside with pitch and rosin, their ordnance loaded with stones and bullets and filled with sulphur and other materials suddenly combustible glided out from among the English fleet and took their way silently toward the Spanish ships lying so serenely at anchor. The night was cloudy. The moon was late in its last quarter and did not rise till morning. The darkness favored their enterprise. The wind blew in long, low gusts from the westward which drove them full upon the Armada. Presently as the dark forms of the ships bore full upon the Spanish vessels a tiny spark of light gleamed like a twinkling star at the stern of the boats. For a second it wavered and flickered and then in a moment more a red glare lighted up the heavens and cast a lurid glow upon the two fleets, the cliffs of England and the sea and showing plainly two boats—with Young and Prowse, the two men of Devon in one; Francis and Edward in the other.

With a rush and roar the flames leaped madly from stem to stern and up through all the rigging sending out great tongues of fire forward, backward, sideways threatening total destruction to anything that came within their reach.

"Pull, Francis," cried Devereaux bending with desperate strength to the oars. "Pull for your life."

The girl obeyed with a will. And now from the ships of Spain there went up a fearful cry. A panic seized upon them at sight of those awful burning vessels. They cried out that not only was there danger of fire but that they contained deadly engines also. Everything was in confusion. Panic-stricken they weighed anchor, cut their cables, hoisted their sails and struck for the open sea, every ship afoul of her neighbor. A huge galleass had her rudder broken and drifted helplessly with the tide.



With shouts and cries of joy the English fleet sailed after the Armada. Meantime the small boats pulled hastily for the nearest English vessel, but so suddenly did the Spanish scatter, and the English change to take advantage of their flight, that the position of the boats became dangerous in the extreme: for what with the high wind, the burning ships, the rolling of the deep, the helter-skelter flight of the Armada and the pursuit of the English their position was, to say the least, precarious.

Devereaux changed the course of his boat several times, but as he was borne in spite of himself among the Spanish vessels he cried despairingly to Francis,

"It is of no avail, Francis. We must die."

"Look!" was the girl's reply.

Full well upon them bore a galleon, The Saint Matthew.

"Dogs of heretics," cried the commander from the poop of the vessel, "die!"

"Ned, dear Ned!" shrieked Francis, throwing herself upon him, striving to shield him from the bullets and arrows that rained about them. The lad gave her one look, and opened his lips to reply when, with a shout of wild joy from the sailors, The Revenge glided in between the frail bark and her towering foe.

"Heave ho," cried Francis Drake in stentorian tones. "Lie to, my lads. Did'st think we'd leave such likely lads to perish? Nay; below with ye," as they were pulled on deck. "Ye have done your part. The rest of us will now bear the brunt of action."

And the English fleet swept on to deal the final blow to His Most Catholic Majesty, Philip of Spain's, Invincible Armada.



CHAPTER XXX

PARDON AND HAPPINESS

The final blow which sent the Armada flying northward had been given. With not a single ship taken and but one, the small bark of Cock, lost, and not more than sixty men killed, the English fleet sent up a paean of joy, and drew up for conference before following further the fleeing enemy.

"Ye two," said the lord admiral to Francis and Devereaux, "seeing that ye lie under Her Most Sovereign Majesty's displeasure, shall bear to her the tidings of our victory. None deserve it more, and, please God, by so doing ye shall win pardon from her. As for me I shall on after the Spaniard as long as provisions and ammunition will permit."

And so it came about that Francis and Devereaux proceeded to the camp at Tilbury, where the queen was at this time. She was dining in the tent of Lord Leicester, the lieutenant general of the land forces, herself being the generalissimo, when they arrived. There were present, beside the queen and the earl, Sir Francis Walsingham, who had come down from London for conference with the queen; Hatton, the vice chamberlain, the young Earl of Essex who, despite his inexperience, had been made the captain-general of the cavalry, and Lord Shrope, who had hastened to return to England upon hearing of his country's peril. Francis flashed a glance of joyful recognition at him, but was deterred from other greeting by the presence of the queen.

Elizabeth had risen at their approach, and when the girl beheld her high pale forehead furrowed by lines of care, the lofty features sharpened by anxiety, she felt her heart glow toward her sovereign and the last feeling of animosity which had lain so long in her heart faded away never to return. It was therefore with a sincere feeling of reverence that she knelt before Elizabeth, who had shown herself at this time to be a true daughter of the lion-hearted Plantagenets.

"Ye bear messages from the lord admiral," cried the queen somewhat anxiously. "Rise, Edward Devereaux, and deliver thyself of them."

"Most gracious madam," said Edward, rising gracefully, "the strength of the enemy is broken. Dispirited and distraught they fly before the lord admiral. Madam, the Armada is no more. Here are letters writ by Lord Howard, in which he gives the victory in detail."

"Now God be praised," ejaculated the queen, "but this is news indeed. My Lord of Essex, do you spread the tidings throughout the camp that my loving people may rejoice with me. Thy indulgence, Master Devereaux, while I peruse my Lord Howard's dispatches. Retain thy place that I may confer with thee later."

Rapidly she glanced over the epistles, and then turned to the assembled lords.

"My lords," she cried, "behold these lads! They have borne themselves with signal valor during the meeting with the Spaniards. They two, in company with two others of whom more anon, set fire to the ships which brought fear and panic into the fleet of the enemy. Which same device was recommended by us to the lord admiral. Speak, Edward Devereaux! What reward dost thou wish for thy service?"

"Thy pardon, Most Gracious Lady, for breaking the bounds in which you placed me."

"Ah, Ned, Ned," said Elizabeth with that archness which, despite her fifty-five years, she continued to employ, "didst thou not know that thy queen placed thee there for thy safety?"

"True, madam;" assented Devereaux. "But not the strongest dungeon of the Tower should have held me in durance when thy person, and my country were in danger."

"Thy silvery tongue no less than thy service doth well incline me to thy will, Ned," said she graciously. "Thou art forgiven. And thou?" she added turning to the kneeling girl. "Art thou not that Francis Stafford lately concerned in plot against our person?"

"I am that most unhappy being, madam," said Francis, rising and looking the queen steadfastly in the face. "I throw myself upon your mercy, Your Majesty, and crave forgiveness. My only plea for so great a fault is, that at that time I had not been brought near your person and knew you not. Had I known you I would never have transgressed. Do with me as you will. Return me to the Tower, or use your pleasure upon me in any fashion as seemeth best to you, only forgive me."

"Hast thy father schooled thee to speak thus?" demanded the queen.

"My father? Nay; I know not where he is. I have not seen him since I entered the Tower nearly two years ago," answered the girl.

The queen said something in a low tone to Lord Shrope. That nobleman immediately left the tent, and all eyes centred expectantly upon the queen. Francis looked at her with a growing anxiety as she remained silent. Was she going to remand her to the Tower? Were not her services deserving of some recognition? What was meant by that continued stillness? The queen stood regarding her with those keen, piercing eyes whose fires age had not dimmed, and Francis met her gaze with a sort of fascination, her eyes dilated, her lips parted as she waited the issue.

Presently Lord Shrope reentered the tent and with him there came one at sight of whom Francis gave a great cry.

"My father!" And not even the presence of the queen could prevent her from running forward to embrace him. Her father gave no sign that he knew of her presence, but advancing to where the queen stood, knelt before her saying:

"You sent for me, Your Grace, and I am here."

"My Lord Stafford," said Elizabeth affably, "thou knowest that when thou didst present thyself before us, beseeching us to permit you to be of service in defending our person, that we agreed that time should prove thy worth. My lord, thou and thy son have redeemed yourselves nobly in our eyes. Rise, my lord! You are restored to your right of blood and to your property. Thy son also hath our full and free forgiveness."

"Madam, thou art graciousness itself," said Lord Stafford kissing her hand. "I do repent me of all my transgression against you, but from this time forth, my queen, by the grace of God, you will have no stauncher subject than William Stafford. As for my daughter——"

"Thy daughter?" cried Elizabeth. "Thy daughter? What mean you, Stafford?"

"He means, Your Highness," cried Lord Shrope, "that his son is not a boy, but a girl."

"Hold thy tongue, Shrope!" commanded the queen sharply. "Thy wits are addled. Who is there who will read the riddle clearly? Thou, Francis Stafford?"

But Francis, utterly miserable in that her father took no notice of her, was sobbing bitterly and therefore could not reply.

"Let me read it, Your Majesty," said Lord Stafford, and receiving consent he related the whole story from the time of her coming to Stafford Hall, concluding with,

"I know not, Your Highness, why she doth continue to wear the garb unless from dire perversity——"

"Nay;" cried Francis, her spirit asserting itself. "'Tis because 'twas at thy bidding that I donned it, and I vowed never to remove it until thou didst bid me so to do. Oh, would that I had perished in battle ere thy hardness toward me should pierce me with such agony!" And she again gave way to her grief.

"Why, what hath she done, my lord?" asked the queen curiously.

"She betrayed my trust, Your Grace," answered Lord Stafford.

"Nay, Stafford," exclaimed both Walsingham and Lord Shrope together. "You wrong the girl."

"Wrong her?" asked Lord Stafford eagerly. "Speak, my lords! If ye can convince me of that ye shall remove all that my heart holdeth of bitterness. I long to take her to my breast again, but I would not so long as I believe that she betrayed trust."

"She would not betray thee, Stafford, even when threatened with torture," spoke the secretary. "My Lord Shrope can bear witness to the truth of what I speak."

With a bound Lord Stafford reached the weeping girl and caught her to him.

"My daughter! My daughter!" he cried. "Can you ever forgive me? Say that you forgive me."

"And you do believe in me?" questioned Francis clinging to him convulsively. "Say that you do, my father."

"I do, I do, my child."

"My lord, we will permit you to retire until you are calmer," came from the queen.

"Thank her, Francis," said Lord Stafford leading the girl forward. "Thank our gracious queen who hath shown so much of kindness to us."

"There, sweetheart!" said Elizabeth as Francis with streaming eyes tried to articulate her gratitude. "'Twill suffice for the present. We like thy spirit, and later will receive thee into service near us. When thou hast donned thy maiden attire we would see thee again. Though, by my faith, if all men would honor the garb as thou hast done, there would be few knaves in the kingdom."

* * * * *

"And this is Mistress Francis Stafford?" cried Edward Devereaux as, two days later, Francis stood on the banks of the river watching the queen as she embarked for London. "Upon my word, Francis; thy attire well becomes thee."

"'Hast thou found me, oh, mine enemy?'" quoth the girl gaily turning a bright face toward him.

"Thine enemy, Francis?" said the youth reproachfully. "I thought that that had passed. After all that we have been through together thou shouldst not call me so."

"And art thou not mine enemy?" asked she archly. "Nay;" as a pained look crossed his face, "I know that thou art not."

"And neither art thou mine," asserted Edward. "Ah, Francis, may not we two bury that old enmity by a union of our families in us? If thy father give consent wilt thou agree also?"

"If my father consent, then so will I also, Edward," spoke the girl softly, adding saucily—"'tis the only way that I'll ever get that deer's horns."



STORIES FOR GIRLS

BETTY WALES, FRESHMAN. By MARGARET WARDE. ILLUSTRATED BY EVA M. NAGEL. "Every nice girl likes college, though everyone likes it for a different reason," says one of the college girls in this delightful story, and the same thing might be said of the book. Betty and her chums get all the good and all the fun out of their freshman year at college. In its course are some triumphs, little and great, friendships made and marred, a few heart-burnings, and many an honest hard-won happiness. The girl who has been to college will wish she were back among them, and the one who is going will find herself eager to be with such as Betty and her friends, and to do as they do.

EARNING HER WAY. By MRS. CLARKE JOHNSON. Illustrated by IDA WAUGH. A charming story of an ambitious girl who overcomes in a most original manner many obstacles that stand in the way of securing a college course. While many of her experiences are of a practical nature, and show a brave, self-reliant spirit, some of her escapades and adventures are most exciting, yet surrounding the whole there is an atmosphere of refinement and inspiration that is most helpful and pleasing.

HER COLLEGE DAYS. By MRS. CLARKE JOHNSON. Illustrated by IDA WAUGH. This is a most interesting and healthful tale of a girl's life in a New England college. The trustful and unbounded love of the heroine for her mother and the mutual and self-sacrificing devotion of the mother to the daughter are so beautifully interwoven with the varied occurrences and exciting incidents of college life as to leave a most wholesome impression upon the mind and heart of the reader.

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STORIES FOR GIRLS

TWO WYOMING GIRLS. By MRS. CARRIE L. MARSHALL. ILLUSTRATED BY IDA WAUGH. Two girls, thrown upon their own resources, are obliged to "prove up" their homestead claim. This would be no very serious matter were it not for the persecution of an unscrupulous neighbor, who wishes to appropriate the property to his own use. The girls endure many privations, have a number of thrilling adventures, but finally secure their claim and are generally well rewarded for their courage and perseverance.

THE GIRL RANCHERS. By MRS. CARRIE L. MARSHALL. ILLUSTRATED BY IDA WAUGH. A story of life on a sheep ranch in Montana. The dangers and difficulties incident to such a life are vividly pictured, and the interest in the story is enhanced by the fact that the ranch is managed almost entirely by two young girls. By their energy and pluck, coupled with courage, kindness, and unselfishness, they succeed in disarming the animosity of the neighboring cattle ranchers, and their enterprise eventually results successfully.

IN DOUBLET AND HOSE. By LUCY FOSTER MADISON. ILLUSTRATED BY CLYDE O. DELAND. A story of the time of Queen Elizabeth. The heroine and her family favor the claims of Mary of Scotland to England's throne. During a visit of Elizabeth to the home of the heroine's parents, the queen becomes displeased, and as a punishment, orders the girl to attend her at Court. Her adventures there and the incidents which lead to her confinement in the Tower of London, her escape therefrom, and final restoration to favor with the great Queen, form a most interesting narrative.

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STORIES FOR GIRLS

A DAUGHTER OF THE UNION. By LUCY FOSTER MADISON. ILLUSTRATED BY CLYDE O. DELAND. A story of the Civil War in which the interest centers about a brave young girl who is sent by her father from New York to New Orleans as a bearer of important messages. Aided by Admiral Farragut she delivers these after running the Mississippi blockade. Later she is forced to leave New Orleans and is captured and held a prisoner at Vicksburg until its surrender to General Grant.

A COLONIAL MAID OF OLD VIRGINIA. By LUCY FOSTER MADISON. Illustrated by CLYDE O. DELAND. The heroine, while yet a motherless babe, is adopted by a wealthy planter of Virginia. At an early age she evinces a strong love for the cause of the colonies, while her uncle and his family are ardent adherents of the King. Her many deeds of heroism carry her to Philadelphia during its occupancy by the British, thence to Valley Forge, the Wyoming massacre, and finally to the surrender at Yorktown.

A MAID AT KING ALFRED'S COURT. By LUCY FOSTER MADISON. Illustrated by IDA WAUGH. This is a strong and well told tale of the 9th century. It is a faithful portrayal of the times, and is replete with historical information. The trying experiences through which the little heroine passes, until she finally becomes one of the great Alfred's family, are most entertainingly set forth. Nothing short of a careful study of the history of the period will give so clear a knowledge of this little known age as the reading of this book.

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STORIES FOR GIRLS

A MAID OF THE FIRST CENTURY. By LUCY FOSTER MADISON. Illustrated by IDA WAUGH. A little maid of Palestine goes in search of her father, who for political reasons, has been taken as a slave to Rome. She is shipwrecked in the Mediterranean, but is rescued by a passing vessel bound for Britain. Eventually an opportunity is afforded her for going to Rome, where, after many trying and exciting experiences, she and her father are united and his liberty is restored to him.

THE WHIRLIGIG. By EVELYN RAYMOND. Illustrated by RUTH ROLLINS. She is called "The Whirligig" because she is so apt to be blown about by her emotions. It is not until she goes to live with an old aunt and uncle and is thrown upon her own resources, that she develops a steadier and stronger character. She is a great comfort to the elderly people, and at a time when the whole village is threatened with a flood, she rides down the valley and warns the people of their danger. She is a very natural, lovable girl, and the story ends all too soon.

A YANKEE GIRL IN OLD CALIFORNIA. By EVELYN RAYMOND. Illustrated by IDA WAUGH. A young girl, reared among most delightful surroundings in Vermont, suddenly discovers that, owing to a clause in her father's will, she must make her future home with relatives in the lower portion of old California. No more interesting experience could come in the life of any bright, observing girl than that of an existence in this semi-tropical region, with its wealth of Spanish tradition, its glorious climate, and its abundance of flowers and foliage.

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STORIES FOR GIRLS

A QUAKER MAIDEN. By EVELYN RAYMOND. Illustrated by IDA WAUGH. A young girl reared in all the simplicity of a Quaker family is suddenly transported to the home of a wealthy cousin. She is at first greeted with derision, but gradually her unfailing gentleness and sterling character win the respect of her cousins, and at a time of financial disaster she becomes the reliance of the entire family.

A DAUGHTER OF THE FOREST. By EVELYN RAYMOND. Illustrated by IDA WAUGH. The heroine of this unusual tale resides with her uncle on an island in the backwoods of Maine, and her exciting adventures, her unique animal pets, her rescue of her father from unlawful imprisonment, all combine to form a story of exceptional interest and merit. Considerable information concerning animal and plant life is interwoven with the story.

MY LADY BAREFOOT. By EVELYN RAYMOND. Illustrated by IDA WAUGH. A beautifully told story of the trials of a little backwoods girl who lives in a secluded place with an eccentric uncle, until his death. The privations she undergoes during his life-time, her search for other relatives, her rather uncongenial abode with them, her return to her early home to acquire her uncle's estate, and thus to enjoy a useful and happy life, form a most interesting narrative of a girl whose ruggedness and simplicity of character must appeal to the admiration of all readers.

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STORIES FOR GIRLS

THE LITTLE LADY OF THE FORT. By ANNIE M. BARNES. Illustrated by HELENE WOOD. A dramatic story dealing with the struggles of the early French and Spanish settlers for supremacy in the Carolinas. The heroine is an only daughter of the French commandant and is enticed from the fort and held captive by the Spaniards. Her release is finally effected by a young Spaniard whom she befriended, but not until after she has endured many severe trials.

THE FERRY MAID OF THE CHATTAHOOCHEE. By ANNIE M. BARNES. Illustrated by IDA WAUGH. An heroic little Georgia girl, in her father's extremity, takes charge of his ferry, and through many vicissitudes and several impending calamities, succeeds in carrying out her purpose of supporting her invalid parent and his family. The heroine's cheerfulness and hearty good humor, combined with an unflinching zeal in her determination to accomplish her work, show a character which cannot fail to appeal to young people.

DOROTHY DAY. By JULIE M. LIPPMANN. Illustrated by IDA WAUGH. This is a most interesting story of a bright and spirited young girl whose widowed mother remarries. The impulsive girl chafes under the new relationship, being unwilling to share with another the bounteous love of her mother which she had learned to claim wholly for her own. By the exercise of great tact and kindness, the obdurate Dorothy is at last won over, and becomes a most estimable girl.

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Transcriber's Notes:

Archaic and variable spelling, as well as punctuation, has been preserved as printed except as indicated below.

The following changes, shown in brackets, were made to the original text:

Page 30: "My mother, there is something that I would fain ask. [added missing double quote mark at the end of the sentence]

Page 86: More than ever, my father, Never have I [changed comma to a period]

Page 138: and Frances noted with dismay [Francis]

Page 141: The lord chamberlain turned to Frances [Francis]

Page 155: with true page-like officiousness, proferred [proffered]

Page 209: her face softening at the apellation. [appellation]

Page 214: With a loud laugh at his discomforture [discomfiture]

Page 306: The great galleons and galleases [galleasses]

Page 318: A huge gallease had her rudder [galleass]

The following words were found in both hyphenated and unhyphenated forms in the original text and both forms have been retained: hunting party (hunting-party) lifetime (life-time); also, the obsolete spelling of Shakespeare (Shakspeare) was retained.

Illustrations have been moved where necessary so that they are not in the middle of a paragraph.

There is one footnote and it has been placed at the end of the chapter in which it appears.