d only one--by which my secrecy may be purchased,"
said the monk.
"Name it," replied Norris. "Were it to be purchased by my soul's
perdition, I would embrace it."
"You have hit the point exactly," rejoined the monk drily. "Can you not
guess with whom you have to deal?"
"Partly," replied Norris "I never found such force in mortal arm as you
have displayed."
"Probably not," laughed the other: "most of those who have ventured
against me have found their match. But come with me into the park, and
you shall learn the condition of my secrecy."
"I cannot quit the castle," replied Norris; "but I will take you to my
lodgings, where we shall be wholly unobserved."
And crossing the lower ward, they proceeded to the tower on the south
side of it, now appropriated to the governor of the alms knights.
About an hour after this Norris returned to the revel. His whole
demeanour was altered, and his looks ghastly. He sought the queen, who
had returned to the seat in the embrasure.
"What has happened?" said Anne, in a low tone, as he approached her.
"Have you killed him?"
"No," he replied; "but I have purchased our safety at a terrible price."
"You alarm me, Norris; what mean you?" she cried. "I mean this," he
answered, regarding her with passionate earnestness: "that you must love
me now, for I have perilled my salvation for you. That tall monk was
Herne the Hunter."
IV.
Of the Secret Interview between Norris and Anne Boleyn, and
of the Dissimulation practised by the King.
Henry's attentions to Jane Seymour at the masqued fete were so marked,
that the whole court was made aware of his passion. But it was not
anticipated that any serious and extraordinary consequences would result
from the intoxication--far less that the queen herself would be removed
to make way for her successful rival. It was afterwards, however,
remembered that at this time Henry held frequent, long, and grave
conferences with the Dukes of Suffolk and Norfolk, and appeared to be
engrossed in the meditation of some project.
After the scene at the revel, Anne did not make another exhibition of
jealousy; but it was not that she was reconciled to her situation, or in
any way free from uneasiness. On the contrary, the unhappy Catherine of
Arragon did not suffer more in secret; but she knew, from experience,
that with her royal consort all reproaches would be unavailing.
One morning, when she was alone within her chamber,
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