the moment, Wyat had to
remain without till he made his appearance.

While thus detained, he beheld Anne Boleyn and her royal lover mount
their steeds in the upper ward, and ride forth, with their attendants,
on a hawking expedition. Anne Boleyn bore a beautiful falcon on her
wrist--Wyat's own gift to her in happier days--and looked full of
coquetry, animation, and delight--without the vestige of a cloud upon
her brow, or a care on her countenance. With increased bitterness
of heart, he turned from the sight, and shrouded himself beneath the
gateway of the Norman Tower.

Soon after this, the officer appeared, and at once according Wyat
permission to see the earl, preceded him up the long flight of stone
steps communicating with the upper part of the keep, and screened by
an embattled and turreted structure, constituting a covered way to the
Round Tower.

Arrived at the landing, the officer unlocked a door on the left, and
ushered his companion into the prisoner's chamber.

Influenced by the circular shape of the structure in which it was
situated, and of which it formed a segment, the farther part of this
chamber was almost lost to view, and a number of cross-beams and wooden
pillars added to its sombre and mysterious appearance. The walls were of
enormous thickness, and a narrow loophole, terminating a deep embrasure,
afforded but scanty light. Opposite the embrasure sat Surrey, at a small
table covered with books and writing materials. A lute lay beside him on
the floor, and there were several astrological and alchemical implements
within reach.

So immersed was the youthful prisoner in study, that he was not aware,
until a slight exclamation was uttered by Wyat, of the entrance of the
latter. He then arose, and gave him welcome.

Nothing material passed between them as long as the officer remained
in the chamber, but on his departure Surrey observed laughingly to his
friend, "And how doth my fair cousin, the Lady Anne Boleyn?"

"She has just ridden forth with the king, to hawk in the park," replied
Wyat moodily. "For myself, l am ordered on a mission to France, but I
could not depart without entreating your forgiveness for the jeopardy in
which I have placed you. Would I could take your place."

"Do not heed me," replied Surrey; "I am well content with what has
happened. Virgil and Homer, Dante and Petrarch, are the companions of
my confinement; and in good sooth, I am glad to be alone. Amid the
distraction