done to
thee?"

"Oh, worse than sorrow, madam, and worse than injury--he has sown
dissension where most there should be peace. I shall go mad if I look
longer on him!"

"Beshrew me, but I think thou art distraught already," answered the
Queen.--"My Lord Hunsdon, look to this poor distressed young woman, and
let her be safely bestowed, and in honest keeping, till we require her
to be forthcoming."

Two or three of the ladies in attendance, either moved by compassion
for a creature so interesting, or by some other motive, offered their
services to look after her; but the Queen briefly answered, "Ladies,
under favour, no. You have all (give God thanks) sharp ears and nimble
tongues; our kinsman Hunsdon has ears of the dullest, and a tongue
somewhat rough, but yet of the slowest.--Hunsdon, look to it that none
have speech of her."

"By Our Lady," said Hunsdon, taking in his strong, sinewy arms the
fading and almost swooning form of Amy, "she is a lovely child! and
though a rough nurse, your Grace hath given her a kind one. She is safe
with me as one of my own ladybirds of daughters."

So saying, he carried her off; unresistingly and almost unconsciously,
his war-worn locks and long, grey beard mingling with her light-brown
tresses, as her head reclined on his strong, square shoulder. The Queen
followed him with her eye. She had already, with that self-command which
forms so necessary a part of a Sovereign's accomplishments, suppressed
every appearance of agitation, and seemed as if she desired to banish
all traces of her burst of passion from the recollection of those who
had witnessed it. "My Lord of Hunsdon says well," she observed, "he is
indeed but a rough nurse for so tender a babe."

"My Lord of Hunsdon," said the Dean of St. Asaph--"I speak it not in
defamation of his more noble qualities--hath a broad license in speech,
and garnishes his discourse somewhat too freely with the cruel and
superstitious oaths which savour both of profaneness and of old
Papistrie."

"It is the fault of his blood, Mr. Dean," said the Queen, turning
sharply round upon the reverend dignitary as she spoke; "and you may
blame mine for the same distemperature. The Boleyns were ever a hot and
plain-spoken race, more hasty to speak their mind than careful to
choose their expressions. And by my word--I hope there is no sin in that
affirmation--I question if it were much cooled by mixing with that of
Tudor."

As she made this last obs