cism had for the moment got the better of her, and much as she
was wont at other times to hide her thoughts and feelings, it had, at
that moment, carried her away and betrayed her to the keen eye of her
friend.

"It is now a long while since we saw each other," said Catharine, sadly.
"Three years! It is a long time for a young girl's heart! And you were
those three years with your father in Dublin, at that rigidly popish
court. I did not consider that! But however much your opinions may have
changed, your heart, I know, still remains the same, and you will ever
be the proud, high-minded Jane of former days, who could never stoop to
tell a lie--no, not even if this lie would procure her profit and glory.
I ask you then, Jane, what is your religion? Do you believe in the Pope
of Rome, and the Church of Rome as the only channel of salvation? or do
you follow the new teaching which Luther and Calvin have promulgated?"

Lady Jane smiled. "Would I have risked appearing before you, if I still
reckoned myself of the Roman Catholic Church? Catharine Parr is hailed
by the Protestants of England as the new patroness of the persecuted
doctrine, and already the Romish priests hurl their anathemas against
you, and execrate you and your dangerous presence here. And you ask me,
whether I am an adherent of that church which maligns and damns you?
You ask me whether I believe in the pope, who has laid the king under
an interdict--the king, who is not only my lord and master, but also the
husband of my precious and noble Catharine? Oh, queen, you love me not
when you can address such a question to me."

And as if overcome by painful emotion, Lady Jane sank down at
Catharine's feet, and hid her head in the folds of the queen's robe.

Catharine bent down to raise her and take her to her heart. Suddenly
she started, and a deathly paleness overspread her face. "The king,"
whispered she, "the king is coming!"

CHAPTER III. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH.

Catharine was not deceived. The doors were opened, and on the threshold
appeared the lord marshal, with his golden mace.

"His majesty the king!" whispered he, in his grave, solemn manner, which
filled Catharine with secret dread, as though he were pronouncing the
sentence of death over her.

But she forced a smile and advanced to the door to receive the king. Now
was heard a thunder-like rumble, and over the smoothly carpeted floor
of the anteroom came rolling on the king's house equi