king that if the one he loved had dropped a
rose at his feet, how slight a thing his present plight would seem.

But Richard Lincoln saw her action, and, with a start of anger, he said,
"That man is a traitor, Mary. And yet you are my daughter."

Those of his friends standing near had failed to notice her throw the
rose, nor did they now heed the blush which mantled her face as she
looked up at their leader.

"I know it, father; but I love him," she whispered, and she would have
fainted had not Lincoln supported her with his strong arms and led her
from the room.

There was another also who watched the prisoners with eyes of
recognition. Mrs. Oswald Carey had left her lodgings early in the
morning so as to secure a good position from which to view the
procession, and from a coign of vantage close by the houses of
Parliament was feasting her gaze upon the victims of her treachery. A
long cloak covered her figure, and her face was muffled. Only her
beautiful eyes were visible. Owing to the bitter feeling prevalent
against the Royalists, she feared to show herself, for she had been so
intimately associated with the dissipations of the nobility, the people
would have stoned her. She felt proof against discovery in her present
garb, and had waited for hours, hedged about by the rabble, for a
glimpse of Geoffrey Ripon.

Her revenge had been swift and equal to her expectation. Its sequel was
yet to follow. As she gazed at the face of the young man, which
exposure had rather ennobled and made more handsome, strange feelings
were awakened within her. She scarcely knew whether she were sorry to
see him there in peril of his life, or that she would be pleased to know
that he had paid the penalty of treason with his head. Her love and hate
were so intermingled that she could not distinguish which had the upper
hand. He passed close to where she was standing. But even had he been
able to recognize her, he could not have suspected that her perfidy was
the occasion of his misfortune. She had guarded her secret carefully.
President Bagshaw had been true to his word. No rumor of the means by
which the conspiracy was unearthed had reached the public ear.

As she made her way home through the crowded street after the procession
had passed, reflection as to what would be Geoffrey's fate absorbed her
thoughts. In the present state of the public temper it was not likely
that he would escape death. To be shot for high treason seemed the