ed the cardinal,
in his blandest tones.

"Such is my name, your grace," she replied; "for your garb tells me I am
addressing Cardinal Wolsey."

The cardinal graciously inclined his head.

"Chancing to ride in this part of the forest," he said, "and having
heard of your beauty, I came to see whether the reality equalled the
description, and I find it far transcends it."

Mabel blushed deeply, and cast down her eyes.

"Would that Henry could see her now!" thought the cardinal, "Anne
Boleyn's reign were nigh at an end.--How long have you dwelt in this
cottage, fair maid?" he added aloud.

"My grandsire, Tristram Lyndwood, has lived here fifty years and more,"
replied Mabel, "but I have only been its inmate within these few weeks.
Before that time I lived at Chertsey, under the care of one of the lay
sisters of the monastery there--Sister Anastasia."

"And your parents--where are they?" asked the cardinal curiously.

"Alas! your grace, I have none," replied Mabel with a sigh. "Tristram
Lyndwood is my only living relative. He used to come over once a month
to see me at Chertsey--and latterly, finding his dwelling lonely, for
he lost the old dame who tended it for him, he brought me to dwell with
him. Sister Anastasia was loth to part with me--and I was grieved to
leave her--but I could not refuse my grandsire."

"Of a surety not," replied the cardinal musingly, and gazing hard at
her. "And you know nothing of your parents?"

"Little beyond this," replied Mabel:--"My father was a keeper of the
forest, and being unhappily gored by a stag, perished of the wound--for
a hurt from a hart's horn, as your grace knows, is certain death; and
my mother pined after him and speedily followed him to the grave. I
was then placed by my grandsire with Sister Anastasia, as I have just
related--and this is all my history."

"A simple yet a curious one," said Wolsey, still musing. "You are the
fairest maid of low degree I ever beheld. You saw the king at the chase
the other day, Mabel?"

"Truly, did I, your grace," she replied, her eyes brightening and her
colour rising; "and a right noble king he is."

"And as gentle and winning as he is goodly to look upon," said Wolsey,
smiling.

"Report says otherwise," rejoined Mabel.

"Report speaks falsely," cried Wolsey; "I know him well, and he is what
I describe him."

"I am glad to hear it," replied Mabel; "and I must own I formed the same
opinion myself--for the smile he threw u