Windsor Castle by William Harrison Ainsworth (read along books TXT) 📕

Have you not sacrificed your old affections at the shrine of ambition? Are you not about to give yourself to one to whom—unless you are foresworn—you cannot give your heart? Better had you been the mistress of Allington Castle—better the wife of a humble knight like myself, than the queen of the ruthless Henry.”

“No more of this, Wyat,” said Anne.

“Better far you should perish by his tyranny for a supposed fault now than hereafter,” pursued Wyat fiercely. “Think not Henry will respect you more than her who had been eight-and-twenty years his wife. No; when he is tired of your charms—when some other dame, fair as yourself, shall enslave his fancy, he will cast you off, or, as your father truly intimated, will seek a readier means of ridding himself of you. Then you will think of the different fate that might have been yours if you had adhered to your early love.”

“Wyat! Wyat! I cannot bear this—in mercy spare me!” cried Anne.

“I am glad to see you weep,” said Wyat; “your tears make you look more like your former self.”

“Oh, Wyat, do not view my conduct too harshly!” she said. “Few of my sex would have acted other than I have done.”

“I do not think so,” replied Wyat sternly; “nor will I forego my vengeance. Anne, you shall die. You know Henry too well to doubt your fate if he finds me here.”

“You cannot mean this,” she rejoined, with difficulty repressing a scream; “but if I perish, you will perish with me.”

“I wish to do so,” he rejoined, with a bitter laugh.

“Wyat,” cried Anne, throwing herself on her knees before him, “by your former love for me, I implore you to spare me! Do not disgrace me thus.”

But Wyat continued inexorable.

“O God!” exclaimed Anne, wringing her hands in agony. A terrible silence ensued, during which Anne regarded Wyat, but she could discern no change in his countenance.

At this juncture the tapestry was again raised, and the Earl of Surrey issued from it.

“You here, my lord?” said Anne, rushing towards him.

“I am come to save you, madame,” said the earl. “I have been just liberated from arrest, and was about to implore your intercession with the king, when I learned he had been informed by one of his pages that a man was in your chamber. Luckily, he knows not who it is, and while he was summoning his attendants to accompany him, I hurried hither by the secret staircase. I have arrived in time. Fly—fly! Sir Thomas Wyat!”

But Wyat moved not.

At this moment footsteps were heard approaching the door—the handle was tried—and the stern voice of the king was heard commanding that it might be opened.

“Will you destroy me, Wyat?” cried Anne.

“You have destroyed yourself,” he rejoined.

“Why stay you here, Sir Thomas?” said Surrey, seizing his arm. “You may yet escape. By heaven! if you move not, I will stab you to the heart!”

“You would do me a favour, young man,” said Wyat coldly; “but I will go. I yield to love, and not to you, tyrant!” he added, shaking his hand at the door. “May the worst pangs of jealously rend your heart!” And he disappeared behind the arras.

“I hear voices,” cried Henry from without. “God's death! madam, open the door—or I will burst it open!”

“Oh, heaven! what is to be done?” cried Anne Boleyn, in despair.

“Open the door, and leave all to me, madam,” said Surrey; “I will save you, though it cost me my life!”

Anne pressed his hand, with a look of ineffable gratitude, and Surrey concealed himself behind the arras.

The door was opened, and Henry rushed in, followed by Richmond, Norfolk, Suffolk, and a host of attendants.

“Ah! God's death! where is the traitor?” roared the king, gazing round.

“Why is my privacy thus broken upon?” said Anne, assuming a look of indignation.

“Your privacy!” echoed Henry, in a tone of deep derision—“Your privacy! —ha!—ha! You bear yourself bravely, it must be confessed. My lords, you heard the voices as well as myself. Where is Sir Thomas Wyat?”

“He is not here,” replied Anne firmly.

“Aha! we shall see that, mistress,” rejoined Henry fiercely. “But if Sir Thomas Wyat is not here, who is? for I am well assured that some one is hidden in your chamber.”

“What if there be?” rejoined Anne coldly.

“Ah! by Saint Mary, you confess it!” cried the king. “Let the traitor come forth.”

“Your majesty shall not need to bid twice,” said Surrey, issuing from his concealment.

“The Earl of Surrey!” exclaimed Henry, in surprise. “How come you here, my lord? Methought you were under arrest at the guard-house.”

“He was set free by my orders,” said the Duke of Richmond.

“First of all I must entreat your majesty to turn your resentment against me,” said the earl. “I am solely to blame, and I would not have the Lady Anne suffer for my fault. I forced myself into her presence. She knew not of my coming.”

“And wherefore did you so, my lord?” demanded Henry sternly.

“Liberated from the guard-house at the Duke of Richmond's instance, my liege, I came to entreat the Lady Anne to mediate between me and your majesty, and to use her influence with your highness to have me betrothed to the Lady Elizabeth Fitzgerald.”

“Is this so, madam?” asked the king.

Anne bowed her head.

“But why was the door barred?” demanded Henry, again frowning suspiciously.

“I barred it myself,” said Surrey, “and vowed that the Lady Anne should not go forth till she had granted my request.”

“By our lady you have placed yourself in peril, my lord,” said Henry sternly.

“Your majesty will bear in mind his youth,” said the Duke of Norfolk anxiously.

“For my sake overlook the indiscretion,” cried the Duke of Richmond.

“It will not, perhaps, avail him to hope that it may be overlooked for mine,” added Anne Boleyn.

“The offence must not pass unpunished,” said Henry musingly. “My lord of Surrey, you must be content to remain for two months a prisoner in the Round Tower of this castle.”

“Your majesty!” cried Richmond, bending the knee in supplication.

“The sentence is passed,” replied Henry coldly;