"Is it good or bad?" said Isoult.

"Why, good, I hope," said Beatrice. "'Tis a wedding, and both bride and
bridegroom we know."

"Dear heart," sighed Isoult, "I am an ill guesser, as thou wist of old.
Is it Mr Dynham?" [Fictitious person.]

"What, my brother Leonard?" said she. "Nay, sweet heart; he hath been
wed these six years."

"Is it over, or to come?"

"Over, this New Year, or should be," answered Beatrice. "Dost thou lack
help? what thinkest of my Lady of Suffolk her own self?" [The date is
fictitious. It was probably about Christmas, 1552.]

"Beatrice, dear heart!" cried Isoult. "Thou meanest not that?"

"Ay, but I do," said she, laughing. "And now, whom hath her Grace
wedded?"

"I would guess," said Isoult, "some gentleman of great riches and very
high degree."

"Well, as to riches," she answered, "I fancy he hath hitherto earned
every penny he hath spent; and in respect of degree, hath been used to
the holding of his mistress' stirrup. Canst thou guess now?"

"Mr Bertie!" cried Isoult, in amazement. "Surely no!"

"Surely so," answered Beatrice, again laughing. "Her Grace of Suffolk
and Mr Bertie be now man and wife. And for my poor opinion, methinks
she hath chosen well for her own comfort."

"I am rarely glad to hear it," Isoult answered; "so think I likewise."

But for all that, she was exceedingly surprised.

There was some murmuring in May. The Duke of Northumberland, in the
King's name, had ordered all the churches to furnish an account of their
goods; and on the first day of that month, the treasuries were robbed of
all the plate, money, jewels, and vestments, which were confiscated to
the King's use; and the very bells of the churches shared their fate.
Dr Thorpe had been growling over the matter in April, when it was but a
project; averring that "when he had caught a man's hand in his own
pocket, it little amazed him afterward to see it in his neighbour's:"
but now, when the project reached open burglary, his anger found vent in
hotter words.

"Lo' you now! this cut-purse hath got his hand into an other man's
pocket, even as I said. _Will_ no man put this companion into the
Tower? Can none clap him therein under any manner of warrant?"

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Note 1. A gesture well understood at that time, when plain speech was
often perilous--the half-clasped hands resting upon the head in the form
of a crown.