mistress's lips, and they fell on mine ear with a grating, ominous sound. "Yes," she repeated, "he is a partisan of York, and he ill-used my countryman, Champchévrier. I tell you I will have his head." I heard a sigh, and turning round, saw the door of the King's chamber open. The Queen took me by the hand, and said, "Come and see his majesty. He used to like thy playing on the gittern;" and she led me in. It was so When I saw his face, a sort of awe stole over me. still, so calm, like a waveless sea. His eyes were raised to heaven, and his lips moving slowly. The Queen knelt by his side, striving to hear what he said, her eager intent eyes fixed on his motionless form. His voice was a little raised, and I caught these words: "Demitte nobis debita nostra, sicut nos demittimus debitoribus nostris, et ne nos inducas in tentationem; sed libera nos a malo." Had he heard in his silent trance the fierce words she had uttered? Methinks the thought crossed her mind. She kissed his brow and withdrew. "Meg," she said in a loud voice, with an inexpressibly sorrowful countenance, "the sins of the fathers are visited on the children. But this is not"-she paused-"this is not madness; the mind is not distraught only absent; far from this earth; in heaven, I sometimes think. But these intervals are short. Soon the King will be restored. I know when these clouds are rising, I discern when they are about to disperse. At Blackheath I saw that awful calm falling like a mist on his spirit, and snatched him from the wild scene. Now thou knowest the secret which, since the Duke of Gloucester's death, hath darkened my young years. There, in the horror of that sudden event, the cloud first showed. I dared not breathe the thought to any living soul; even then the remembrance of King Charles VI.'s malady darted across my brain. Under the seal of confession I disclosed it to the Bishop of Winchester. It was no new light to him. He tried to comfort me, as holy men are wont to do; but he dispelled not my fear. I took counsel from him, and found him wise as well as good; the love of the priest and the aged man for his young King well nigh equalled the passion of the wife poured forth at his feet in those hours when a queen forgets her crown. We have since often devised means for his entertainment, which none know the value of but I, which day by day watch every turn of his countenance. Books and paintings, the adornment of churches, quiet converse with God in prayer and learned men in privacy, almsgiving too, compose the King's mind, and mend his health. Alas, in the first years of marriage I shook unwittingly the delicate fabric of that rare mind by impetuous excitations and impassioned leadings to uncongenial virtues; now, like one skilled in the notes of a fine sensitive instrument, I touch cautiously each chord, and watch the vibrations thereof." Then she said, with a gentleness of tone and look which I now always observe in her in the King's presence, or even in speaking of him, "May it please God I should so play upon this holy instrument that no jarring may ensue, but only sweet and peaceful music!" So saying, she dismissed me. When the rebellion was ended and the ringleaders slain, we returned to London; and I marvel, now that the Queen's secret is disclosed to me, at the rare prudence she evinced in the hiding thereof from any but the most leal attendants on the King. When news came before we left Kenilworth of Lord Say's execution by the rebels, she told his majesty this dire hap without apparent emotion, and in so religious and comfortable a manner, that he was noways shaken, albeit grieved at it. Yet I had seen her in her chamber grind her teeth and clench her hands, like a fire-eyed fury, with an unwarranted passion; but the moment she entered the King's chamber she was as calm and mild as if perfect peace reigned in her bosom. And in London this year I have witnessed the like wonderful governance of herself when the Duke of York marched thither from Ireland with four thousand men, to the great terror of the court. The Duke of Somerset was not yet returned from France, on whom she builds her hopes; and with a patience and composure which would to God she did more often use at other times, she witnessed the interview between the King and the ungrateful Duke, wherein he demanded that a parliament should be summoned; and his request was granted. Compressed lips and pale cheeks belied her outward calmness, but not one intemperate word or look betrayed it. The King and Queen are overjoyed at the coming of the Duke of Somerset; and I see he will reign in their counsels as did the Duke of Suffolk, which causes no little uneasiness to their majesties' wellwishers. For this Duke hath a most violent character, and is detested by the commons and disliked by the peers, because of the ill-success of his government in France and the loss of so many provinces to this country. He was committed to the Tower by the parliament a short time ago; but now the session is over he is released and favours showered on him. The Queen, alas, disguises not her hatred of his foes, and makes no choice betwixt the enemies of the crown and those of Edward Beaufort. To-day there is a banquet at Guildhall; and at her toilet-table I knelt to her, with many tears beseeching her not to wear a posy of red roses in her bosom, for my brother Edmund yester eve related to the gaping ladies of the court the hap at the Temple Gardens. The fierce quarrel betwixt the Duke of Somerset and my Lord Warwick, the seditious speeches of York's friends, the angry retorts of the Beauforts, and the Queen's name injuriously mixed up in the invectives of their enemies. God! is there no honesty, no virtue, no innocency of life, no conjugal affection, which shall shield a royal lady from blaspheming tongues and false aspersions? Methinks a nation should resent as the most arrant injury accusations which if true should be its most loathsome shame, and visit with revenge these vile slanders on one whose name should be as sacred to every Englishman as his wife's or his daughter's. But, alas, alas! the Queen, by a misplaced chivalry and dangerous confidence, secure in her virtue, proud of her unsullied life, dares with headstrong wilfulness the malice of her enemies. "Madame," I cried, with anguished supplications,-" Madame, for your own sake, for the King's, for God's, throw aside that bloodycoloured rose which disfigures your bosom. Pluck that fatal flower from your breast. Let not England see you wear the badge of Somerset." "Of Lancaster, Meg," she exclaimed, looking down complacently on the ill-omened flower,-" of royal Lancaster! Red is the proper hue for the rose; white roses are pale mean counterfeits. See how sweetly the Reine Marguerite and the red rose match together!" As she said this, she joined together a pink and white daisy and a damask blossom. Madame," I cried, almost weeping, "is it thus you dally with a danger greater than can be well expressed?" Then her eyes gave one of their sudden flashes. Dishonoured be the wretch who shall dare to call this flower the badge of Somerset! It is the rallying sign of every loyal heart, of which Somerset is only the chief. It is the mark by which friends shall be known from foes. It is the flower of those that love the King. I will wear it as I ride along the streets of London. I will plant it on the battlements of every fortress in the realm. None that hold by me but that shall wear it in their breasts or their bonnets, or they shall be thought traitors. It shall grow on every inch of English ground; and if not red enough to please their English eyes, let them dye it in the blood of York!" It She went into the meek King's chamber, as was her wont, when adorned for the banquet, and she wore the red rose in her bosom. He smiled as he greeted her, and praised the perfume of her flowers. She took one from her posey and fastened it to his vesture. made me sad to see it there. court fashioned badges of the gave them to their friends. be it! After that day all the ladies of the like kind in ribbons and paper, and The die is cast. As God wills, so CHAPTER XIX. A GLEAM FROM THE SOUTH. ONE day at the Tower, where I was in waiting on the Queen, there was a heavy mist on the river, so that the opposite bank could not be seen the air was chill and damp, and naught was to be seen under the windows save barges full of coal unloading on the bank. Her majesty was sitting at a little table with a lighted taper, for it was too dark to read without a candle even at noontide. She held two letters in her hand, and as she gazed upon them a heavy sigh escaped her. "From the north and from the south," she said, as I looked the question I durst not ask. "The contents are dissimilar," she added; "yet both make me sad. This is from my kinswoman, Marie de Gueldres, the Queen of Scotland. Alas, the brave Lord Douglas is no more!" "What! the noble chief which your majesty entertained with such great cheer when he returned from his pilgrimage to Rome?” I exclaimed. Yea, and who had promised to bring an army to aid us against York, if he should take the field against us." "Alas, is he dead?" "Yes," she replied; "and what think you is reported? That King James slew him with his own hand! Is it not horrible? Methinks it is enough that I should look favourably on any one, and then misfortune follows him. What a murtherous sky is this beneath the which we live! dark as if the day of doom was at hand! And list to the dull croaking voices of those men at work on the water!" "Is your majesty's other letter sad also?" I said, to turn her thoughts from the first. "Sad!" she exclaimed. "You may read it, Meg. It should be a remedy for sadness, if the joylity of others could cure selfish dejection." Then she sighed again, and perusing that long letter which came from France, smiled once or twice, and then sighed again. It was from the Princess Yolande, her sister; and these were its contents: "Ah, Madame Marguerite, queen of love and beauty, wherefore doth cruel fate so long divide us? Wherefore doth the most entirely beloved daughter and sister of our hearts never gladden by her sweet presence our longing eyes? Would that a fairy had spread her wings and flown to your great London, and from the midst of your fine palace snatched you like Jove did Europa from the flowery mead, where she did frolic, and carried your majesty across the sea and the land to this sweet field of Fornica, under the walls of Tarascon! O, how welcome should have been the flying genius and its royal burthen! I' faith, sweet Marguerite, these have been days of so much joylity, pleasance, and entertainment, that the like hath not been seen for many years. Messire Romurin, the pursuivant, proclaimed the tournament in all Provence, and many noble lords, knights, ladies, and damsels came from Aix, Nisme, Arles, Marseilles, and Montpellier, to this fair castle, which is the home of pleasure and delight. Banquets and plays, dances and masquerades, and sham fights of all kinds enliven the day and night. My lord and Louis de Beauveau have already in sport broken lances with so great skill and grace, that nothing could exceed the contentment of this noble company. But I would have thee to know that this is not a simple martial tournament, like the emprise of the dragon's mouth at Saumur, our father's fair and well-seated city, where Ferry won so many trophies some time ago, and the ladies' prize from the hands of Jeanne de Laval, who was then only thirteen years of age, and a kiss from her fair lips. I took from him that rare casket, which is studded with precious stones, for I said he had had a kiss from the dame Jeanne, and that should be enough for him. But he said, if I kept the box, I should pay him with as many kisses as there are pearls and brilliants on it. I warrant thee, dear sister, that Ferry, though a gay knight, and gallant in his devoirs to the ladies, esteems one hair of his poor wife's head more than all the dames of Lorraine and Provence together. But this Jeanne de Laval is a most wonderful young princess; the like of her hath not been seen since Madame Marguerite d'Anjou crossed the seas, leaving France behind her. The singularity of this little damsel lieth in this she never laughs, nor scarcely smiles, yet in her countenance there is a winsomeness which ravishes all beholders. The king our father hath idolised her from her cradle. Messire Guy de Laval and Madame Isabelle de Bretagne, her parents, do not love her more, I ween, than the King and Queen of Sicily. Now he is reft of thee, he affections Jeanne with an almost excessive tenderness. She is the lady and the queen of all the sports he invents, the theme of his poems, and the little sovereign of the court. Our sweet mother, whose health daily declines, is never so contented as when this little damsel is with her. And I will tell thee a secret. A few nights since, when I was sitting by her side, on her favourite seat, which overlooks the Rhone, she said to me, 'Fair daughter, my life shall not last many years-nay, many months it may be; and God knoweth I should like to die and go to His Paradise when purged of my sins, whereunto thine and other good prayers shall, I hope, help me. But it causeth me annoy that my lord the King, my entirely loved husband, will suffer so great sorrow when I depart, that his health shall suffer, and grief consume his heart. For we have been most dear and loving to each other through a life full of sad haps, yet sweetened by an extraordinary mutual affection. One used to the watchful tenderness of a wife can ill exist alone; and when I have been dead a little while, I would have your father marry-not ever to forget me, for where a great love hath filled the heart, the memory thereof can never die—but that he may find comfort, and cheerful company and consolation in trials from one who shall love him, if not with the passionate liking I had for him, and which yet endures as vivid as if age had heated rather than cooled its fervour, yet with the reverential, trustful, and tender love which advanced years inspire when divested of defects and stamped with virtuous glory.' I kissed that dear mother's hand, and denied that she was like to die. Then she said, 'Now, let not what I now will utter pass thy lips, Yolande, except the day should come when the knowledge thereof shall shed a sweet comfort in thy father's heart. My prayer, my hope, and dear wish-think it not too strange-is this." She looked at me so much as to inquire if I divined what she was about to say; but as I nothing spoke, she went on, 'I would that my lord should marry, when I am dead, Jeanne de Laval.' I started in amazement. Yea,' she rejoined, answering my unuttered thought, she is very young; but there is more thinking, I will warrant it, in that youthful head, as noble a purity in that young heart, as great valour in that high soul, as in any woman in France. I have watched |