l be accounted to you
as a virtue."

He laid his hand on her head, as if in blessing, and gazed at her long
and silently. Then, said he, laughingly:

"According to this, then, my Kate, I should have been the victor of
to-day, and not have lost that game of chess."

"No," said she, dolefully, "I must have lost it, if I had not stolen the
pawn."

Again the king laughed. Catharine said, earnestly:

"Do but believe me, my husband, Bishop Gardiner alone was the cause of
my fall. Because he was by, I did not want to lose. My pride revolted
to think that this haughty and arrogant priest was to be witness of
my defeat. In mind, I already saw the cold and contemptuous smile with
which he would look down on me, the vanquished; and my heart rose in
rebellion at the thought of being humbled before him. And now I have
arrived at the second part of my fault which I want to confess to you
to-day. Sire, I must acknowledge another great fault to you. I have
grievously offended against you to-day, in that I contradicted you, and
withstood your wise and pious words. Ah, my husband, it was not done
to spite you, but only to vex and annoy the haughty priest. For I must
confess to you, my king, I hate this Bishop of Winchester--ay, yet
more--I have a dread of him; for my foreboding heart tells me that he
is my enemy, that he is watching each of my looks, each of my words,
so that he can make from them a noose to strangle me. He is the evil
destiny that creeps up behind me and would one day certainly destroy me,
if your beneficent hand and your almighty arm did not protect me.

"Oh, when I behold him, my husband, I would always gladly fly to your
heart, and say to you: 'Protect me, my king, and have compassion on me!
Have faith in me and love me; for if you do not, I am lost! The evil
fiend is there to destroy me.'"

And, as she thus spoke, she clung affectionately to the king's side,
and, leaning her head on his breast, looked up to him with a glance of
tender entreaty and touching devotion.

The king bent down and kissed her brow. "Oh, sancta simplicitas," softly
murmured he--"she knows not how nigh she is to the truth, and how much
reason she has for her evil forebodings!" Then he asked aloud: "So,
Kate, you believe that Gardiner hates you?"

"I do not believe it, I know it!" said she. "He wounds me whenever he
can; and though his wounds are made only with pins, that comes only from
this, that he is afraid that you might discove