of you, into a day of contention. I
command you, therefore, to be reconciled. Shake hands, my lords, and let
your reconciliation be sincere. I, the king command it!"

The young men gazed at each other with looks of hatred and smothered
rage, and their eyes spoke the insulting and defiant words which their
lips durst no longer utter. The king had ordered, and, however great
and powerful they might be, the king was to be obeyed. They,
therefore, extended their hands to each other, and muttered a few low,
unintelligible words, which might be, perhaps, a mutual apology, but
which neither of them understood.

"And now, sire," said the Earl of Surrey, "now I venture to reiterate my
prayer. Mercy, your majesty, mercy for Anne Askew!"

"And you, Thomas Seymour, do you also renew your petition?"

"No, I withdraw it. Earl Surrey protects her; I, therefore, retire, for
without doubt she is a criminal; your majesty says so, and, therefore,
it is so. It would ill become a Seymour to protect a person who sinned
against the king."

This new indirect attack on Earl Surrey seemed to make on all present a
deep but very varied impression. Here, faces were seen to turn pale,
and there, to light up with a malicious smile; here, compressed
lips muttered words of threatening, there, a mouth opened to express
approbation and agreement.

The king's brow was clouded and troubled; the arrow which Earl Sudley
had shot with so skilful a hand had hit. The king, ever suspicious and
distrustful, felt so much the more disquieted as he saw that the greater
part of his cavaliers evidently reckoned themselves friends of Henry
Howard, and that the number of Seymour's adherents was but trifling.

"These Howards are dangerous, and I will watch them carefully," said the
king to himself; and for the first time his eye rested with a dark and
hostile look on Henry Howard's noble countenance.

But Thomas Seymour, who wished only to make a thrust at his old enemy,
had at the same time decided the fate of poor Anne Askew. It was now
almost an impossibility to speak in her behalf, and to implore pardon
for her was to become a partaker of her crime. Thomas Seymour had
abandoned her, because, as traitress to her king, she had rendered
herself unworthy of his protection. Who now would be so presumptuous as
to still protect the traitress?

Henry Howard did it; he reiterated his supplication for Anne Askew's
pardon. But the king's countenance grew darker and da