as instrumental to his father's death; she turned pale, and a large tear slowly gathering glittered for a moment on her dark lashes, and then fell on the boy's hand. Yes, and that tear of genuine contrition for the evil occasioned by her foolish vanity, was of more worth than all those meaningless smiles, those sallies of wit, cutting and brilliant as the diamond, which dropped from her lips as ceaselessly as from that of the princess in the fairy tale. Yes, although she guessed it not herself, although she considered no compliment greater than the complaints of obduracy and hard-heartedness daily poured into her ear by the coxcombs and libertines by whom she was surrounded, Florence had a heart-a heart that needed but the invigorating chill of adversity to become as true and as pure as ever beat in woman's breast.

The entrance of Sibil with Alice recalled to her mind the urgent nature of the commission with which she was charged. She pressed her lips gently and affectionately on Aubrey's cheek, and taking the child's hand, with a hasty adieu to her mother and a parting nod to Margaret, who gazed with unaffected delight at the glittering vision, she left the room, and having re-entered her litter, departed, to the secret delight of Sibil, and unmitigated astonishment of Dame Agnes.

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CHAPTER VI.

"Ay, but to die, and go, alas,

Where all have gone, and all must go;
To be the nothing that I was

Ere born to life and living woe!"

Byron.

In a spacious ante-room leading to one of the private apartments of the royal manor of Greenwich were assembled some of the principal officers of the king's household, busily discussing all the pros and cons of a topic evidently of engrossing interest; although by their somewhat overanimated gestures and voices, not altogether modulated to the tone demanded by etiquette so near the royal person, it was apparent that their council could not boast of any great unanimity of opinion.

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"Nay, my lord of Worcester, I am altogether of another mind," exclaimed Sir George Neville, his fine countenance flushed with anger. Spare them! By the rood, an I had my will, they should hang until the city streets were garnished as plentifully as autumn hedges in the berry season. Methinks, as it is, the commissioners were right tender of the varlets, and to pardon them— 'sdeath, mercy were but another term for cowardice."

"His majesty is plainly of your turn," answered the lord chamberlain gravely. "So is not our gracious queen and his royal sisters, who at present plead for the culprits."

"Tush! they are but women," said Sir Anthony Knevet; " and although not quite so sweeping in my judgment as Neville here, trust me, it were bad policy not to punish the few already condemned."

"Sweeping, callest thou it?" exclaimed Neville still more fiercely. "I tell thee, Knevet, and thee too, noble earl, there is here no scope for clemency. By St. Bride,

but I could myself enact the executioner, so that not one escape."

"Neville grudges the time he wasted before the Green Gate, when he would fain have footed it with the May masquers," interrupted Sir William Kingston, half-jeeringly. "The knaves, methinks, have already had a lesson indifferently severe; and this Sherwin

"The Green Gate!" said Neville, his tone of passion subsiding into one of bitter sarcasm. "Within the Green Gate died Edward de Buron: before me lay the noblest knight of France; his features beat out of the very form of humanity by the hammer of a dastardly blacksmith; methinks I see him now, writhing, grovelling like a crushed worm,-he, my friend, my sworn brother in arms, he who

"Peace, George!" exclaimed the Duke of Suffolk, hastily opening the door which led to the inner chamber; "the king is sufficiently wroth already. Has my lord cardinal arrived?"

Not yet," answered Sir William Kingston, "though it has been signalled that his barge has already quitted the water-gate of York House."

"Bid one of the royal wherries with four swift rowers wait orders at the stairs; and see, Sir William, that a sergeant-at-arms be in readiness, should need be, to bear a message to the city council. For you, Sir George, let me implore you, fan not this flame, but rather take example by the princess, who entreats for the forfeit life of these citizens, although Sir Edward de Buron was her chosen knight, and no less deservedly dear to her than to myself. By St. Martin, but for his good offices my Mary would now have been the wife of Francis of France." And with a faltering voice and hurried step, as though fearful to trust himself, the duke re-entered the royal presence.

Somewhat pacified by the superior magnanimity of Suffolk, Neville preserved a moody silence, whilst the others continued the conversation in a lower tone, Sir William Kingston having hastened to carry into execution the orders he had received.

Time, which rarely keeps pace with our wishes, pro

gressed this morning as rapidly as usual, and it wanted little more than an hour to midday when, the folding-doors being thrown open, the assembled nobles were informed by a gentleman-usher that their attendance was immediately required by his majesty. Accordingly the Earl of Worcester, Sir George Neville, Sir Anthony Knevet, Lord Edmund Howard, and others, hastened to obey the summons, the more so that it needed but a cursory glance to assure them that the Lion of Tudor was thoroughly aroused. At the upper end of a long hall, from whose arched roof of ornamented timber-work depended a tapestry of crimson velvet, diapered with the rose of England and fleurs-de-lys of France, was placed an elaboratelycarved chair of state, raised by two steps above the level of the floor, and surmounted by a fringed canopy, with rich festoons, and tassels of gold bullion, having emblazoned at the back the royal arms on a floriated ground. Henry VIII., then in his six-and-twentieth year, was reputed to be one of the handsomest men of his day, with an expansive forehead, finely-arched brow, and clear blue eye, which although capable alike of melting in tenderness or flashing in ire, now blinked and wandered from face to face. This, together with his curt sentences, was sufficient evidence that he was more than ordinarily displeased; in fact, his excitement was so great that the spotless plume which ornamented his velvet cap vibrated in unison with the nervous impatience of his manner.

Seated on a low chair at his right, her hand placed imploringly on his arm, was Katherine of Arragon, then in the very zenith of her beauty; whilst standing on his left, her stately figure drawn to its full height, was Margaret, Queen Dowager of Scotland, who, although she joined her persuasions to those of her sister-in-law, did so with all the inherent pride of a race to whom supplication was less familiar than command. To complete the trio, half-kneeling, half-reclining at the king's feet, was his youngest and favourite sister, the Queen Dowager of France, between whom and Henry, perhaps on account of the disparity in their age (Mary had not yet attained her twentieth year), there had always existed the strongest

affection. Indeed, with her childlike loveliness and winning gracefulness of manner, the princess had obtained an influence over her brother denied to any other member of his family, which influence she retained to the time of her death; and even now, as he turned a deaf ear to the pleadings of the gentle Katherine and the remonstrances of the haughty Margaret, his eye softened when it rested on the tearful countenance supported by the round white arm so naturally, so trustfully, thrown across his knee. Checking the angry refusal which, for the third time, was about to issue from his lips, he exclaimed in a somewhat softened

tone:

"Come hither, my lords, and see Harry Tudor badgered and chafed by three dames, who would fain make spindles of his sceptre. What say you, my lord of Worcester, were it not worse than womanly weakness to revoke our decree, even to pleasure these right royal and most fair politicians?"

"Mercy is not weakness, my brother," murmured Mary in her scftest tones; "'tis the brightest jewel in a kingly crown, the most envied.

"A truce, sister mine," interrupted the monarch shortly; "by the sainted knight, whose order is our proudest ornament, but it moves us to hear thee plead for the murderers of the galant De Buron; more especially as we take some blame to ourselves for the over-displeasure which compelled him to fly our court, and thus meet his death."

"If I can thus freely forgive those who have deprived me of a servant to whom I am so deeply beholden," said the princess, with a fond glance at her husband, who stood behind as f to back her suit, "surely my liege lord and sovereign will not be outdone in generosity; besides, hath it not been proved on trial that not one of the condemned struck the blow?"

"Mary," answered the king, with a mixture of gravity and affection, "such matters beseem thee not; leave homiles to my holy Katherine, and reasonings to my proud Margaret; thou art still too very a child to enact the part of privy-councillor."

"Nay, surely, my gracious lord," interposed Queen