said that, and you have heard him, you are in duty bound
to communicate it to the king, if you do not want to be a traitoress
yourself," exclaimed the young duchess, solemnly.

"And have you not noticed that the duke has for some time borne the
same coat-of-arms as the king?" asked the Duchess of Norfolk. "It is not
enough for his haughty and ambitious spirit to be the first servant of
this land; he strives to be lord and king of it."

"Tell that to the king, and by to-morrow the head of the traitor falls.
For the king is as jealous of his kingdom as ever a woman was of
her lover. Tell him that the duke bears his coat-of-arms, and his
destruction is certain."

"I will tell him so, daughter."

"We are sure of the father, but what have we for the son?"

"A sure and infallible means, that will as certainly dispatch him into
eternity as the hunter's tiny bullet slays the proudest stag. Henry
loves the queen; and I will furnish the king proof of that," said the
young duchess.

"Then let us go to the king!" cried Arabella, impetuously.

"No, indeed! That would make a sensation, and might easily frustrate our
whole plan," said the Duchess of Richmond. "Let us first talk with Earl
Douglas, and hear his advice. Come; every minute is precious! We owe it
to our womanly honor to avenge ourselves. We cannot and will not leave
unpunished those who have despised our love, wounded our honor, and
trodden under foot the holiest ties of nature!"

CHAPTER XXVII. THE ACKNOWLEDGMENT.

The Princess Elizabeth was sitting in her room, melancholy and absorbed
in thought. Her eyes were red with weeping; and she pressed her hand on
her heart, as if she would repress its cry of anguish.

With a disconsolate, perplexed look she gazed around her chamber, and
its solitude was doubly painful to her to-day, for it testified to her
forsaken condition, to the disgrace that still rested on her. For were
it not so, to-day would have been to the whole court a day of rejoicing,
of congratulations.

To-day was Elizabeth's birthday; fourteen years ago to-day, Anne
Boleyn's daughter had seen the light of this world.

"Anne Boleyn's daughter!" That was the secret of her seclusion. That
was why none of the ladies and lords of the court had remembered her
birthday; for that would have been at the same time a remembrance of
Anne Boleyn, of Elizabeth's beautiful and unfortunate mother, who had
been made to atone for her grandeur and prosperity