s at length alone with her. At last, after two years of torture, of
resignation, of dissimulation, God had granted him this hour, for which
he had so long yearned, which he had so long considered unattainable.
Now it was there, now it was his.

And had the whole court, had King Henry himself, come right then, Thomas
Seymour would not have heeded it; it would not have affrighted him. The
blood had mounted to his head and overcome his reason. His heart, still
agitated and beating violently from his furious ride and his anxiety for
Catharine, allowed him to hear no other voice than that of passion.

He knelt by the queen and seized her hand.

Perhaps it was this touch which roused her from her unconsciousness. She
raised her eyes and gazed around with a perplexed look.

"Where am I?" breathed she in a low tone.

Thomas Seymour pressed her hand to his lips. "You are with the most
faithful and devoted of your servants, queen!"

"Queen!" This word roused her from her stupor, and caused her to raise
herself half up.

"But where is my court? Where is the Princess Elizabeth? Where are all
the eyes that heretofore watched me? Where are all the listeners and
spies who accompany the queen?"

"They are far away from here," said Seymour in a tone which betrayed
his secret delight. "They are far away from here, and need at least an
hour's time to come up with us. An hour, queen! are you aware what that
is to me? An hour of freedom, after two years of imprisonment! An hour
of happiness, after two years of daily torture, daily endurance of the
torments of hell!"

Catharine, who had at first smiled, had now become grave and sad.

Her eye rested on the cap which had fallen from her head and lay near
her on the grass.

She pointed with trembling finger to the crown, and said softly,
"Recognize you that sign, my lord?"

"I recognize it, my lady; but in this hour, I no longer shrink back at
it. There are moments in which life is at its crowning point, and when
one heeds not the abyss that threatens close beneath. Such an hour is
the present. I am aware that this hour makes me guilty of high treason
and may send me to the block; but nevertheless I will not be silent.
The fire which burns in my breast consumes me. I must at length give it
vent. My heart, that for years has burned upon a funeral pyre, and which
is so strong that in the midst of its agonies it has still ever felt
a sensation of its blessedness--my heart must at len