n a league high. A King shall
take notice of one for the duration of a raindrop's fall. Then it is
done. One may make oneself ere it reach the ground, or never. Besides,
'tis a well-spoken elder. 'Tis the spit of our grandfather Culpepper.'

When Henry came hurrying back, engrossed, to send Culpepper and the
mule to the gatehouse for a guide, she laughed gently for pleasure.

Culpepper said tremulously: 'She hath her father's commands to hasten
to Dover.'

'Her father taketh and giveth commands from me,' Henry answered, and
his glove flicked once more towards the gate. He had turned his face
away before Culpepper's hand grasped convulsively at his dagger and he
had Katharine Howard at his side sweeping back towards Cromwell.

She asked, confidingly and curiously: 'Who is that lord?' and, after
his answer, she mused, 'He is no friend to Howards.'

'Nay, that man taketh his friends among mine,' he answered. He stopped
to regard her, his face one heavy and indulgent smile. The garter on
his knee, broad and golden, showed her the words: '_Y pense_'; the
collars moved up and down on his immense chest, the needlework of
roses was so fine that she wondered how many women had sat up how many
nights to finish it: but the man was grey and homely.

'I know none of your ways here,' she said.

'Never let fear blanch thy cheeks till we are no more thy friend,' he
reassured her. He composed one of his gallant speeches:

'Here lives for thee nothing but joy.' Pleasurable hopes should be her
comrades while the jolly sun shone, and sweet content at night her
bedfellow....

He handed her to the care of the Lord Cromwell to take her to the Lady
Mary's lodgings. It was unfitting that she should walk with him, and,
with his heavy and bearlike gait, swinging his immense shoulders, he
preceded them up the broad path.

VI

Cromwell watched the King's great back with an attentive smile. He
said, ironically, that he was her ladyship's servant.

'I would ye were,' she answered. 'They say you love not those that I
love.'

'I would have you not heed what men say,' he answered, grimly. 'I am
douce to those that be of good-will to his Highness. Those that hate
me are his ill-wishers.'

'Then the times are evil,' she said, 'for they are many.'

She added suddenly, as if she could not keep a prudent silence:

'I am for the Old Faith in the Old Way. You have hanged many dear
friends of mine whose souls I pray for.'

He looked at h