and I will not complain;" and Kate threw back her head, whilst her
eyes flashed with the stress of her feeling.

"But the treasure?" questioned Cuthbert, eager to know more; "I
have not yet heard how it was lost."

Thus recalled to her subject, Kate took up her narrative again.

"You doubtless know that Queen Mary died in November of the year of
grace fifteen hundred and fifty-eight. In that year, some months
earlier, my father was born, and at the time of the proclamation of
the new Queen he was a tender infant. My grandfather was in London
about the Court, and his wife and child were here in this
house--the sumptuous mansion he and his father had built--not
dreaming of harm or ill. They had not heard of the death of one
Queen or the proclamation of the other till one dark winter's night
when, just as the household were about to retire to bed, my
grandfather and your father, Cuthbert, arrived at the house, their
faces pale with anxiety and apprehension, their clothes stained
with travel; the state of both riders and horses showing the speed
with which they had travelled, and betraying plainly that something
urgent had happened. The news was quickly told. Queen Mary was
dead. Bonfires in London streets were blazing in honour of
Elizabeth. The Protestants were everywhere in a transport of joy
and triumph. The Papists were trembling for their lives and for
their fortunes. No one knew the policy of the new Queen. All felt
that it was like enough she would inflict bloody chastisement on
those who had been the enemies of herself and of her Protestant
subjects. Even as the Trevlyn brothers had passed through the
streets of the city on their way out, they had been hissed and