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will you make to these insolent demands – to these idle and imaginary claims?”

      “None whatever,” replied the Earl of Pembroke; “we will treat them with the scorn they merit.”

      “That may not be, my lord,” observed Queen Jane; “your silence will be misconstrued.”

      “Ay, marry will it,” rejoined Northumberland, glancing fiercely at the Earl; “and your advice, my lord of Pembroke, savours strongly of disloyalty. I will tell you how you shall answer this misguided lady. You shall advertise her, firstly, that on the death of our sovereign lord, Edward the Sixth, Queen Jane became invested and possessed with the just and right title in the imperial crown of this realm, not only by good order of ancient laws, but also by our late sovereign lord’s letters patent, signed with his own hand, and sealed with the great seal of England, in presence of the most part of the nobles, councillors, judges, and divers other grave and sage personages, assenting to and subscribing the same. You shall next tell her, that having sworn allegiance to Queen Jane, you can offer it to no other, except you would fall into grievous and unspeakable enormities. You shall also remind her, that by the divorce made between the king of famous memory, King Henry the Eighth, and the lady Catherine her mother, confirmed by sundry acts of parliament yet in force, she was justly made illegitimate and unheritable to the crown of this realm. And lastly, you shall require her to surcease, by any pretence, to vex and molest our sovereign lady Queen Jane, or her subjects from their true faith and allegiance unto her grace. This, my lords, is the answer you shall return.”

      “We will consider of it,” cried several voices.

      “Your decision must be speedy,” returned the Duke, scornfully; “a messenger waits without, to convey your reply to the Lady Mary. And to spare your lordships any trouble in penning the despatch, I have already prepared it.”

      “Prepared it!” ejaculated Cecil.

      “Ay, prepared it,” repeated the Duke. “It is here,” he added, producing a parchment, “fairly enough written, and only lacking your lordships’ signatures. Will it please you, Sir William Cecil, or you, my lord of Pembroke, or you, Shrewsbury, to cast an eye over it, to see whether it differs in aught from what I have counselled as a fitting answer to Mary’s insolent message? You are silent: then, I may conclude you are satisfied.”

      “Your grace concludes more than you have warrant for,” rejoined the Earl of Pembroke; “I am not satisfied, nor will I subscribe that letter.”

      “Nor I,” added Cecil.

      “Nor I,” repeated several others.

      “We shall see,” returned Northumberland: “bring pen and ink,” he added, motioning to an attendant, by whom his commands were instantly obeyed. “Your grace of Canterbury,” he continued, addressing Cranmer, “will sign it first. ‘Tis well. And now, my lord Marquess of Winchester, your signature; my lord Bedford, yours; now yours, Northampton; yours, my lord chancellor; next, I shall attach my own; and now yours, brother of Suffolk. You see, my lords,” he said, with a bitter smile, “you will be well kept in countenance.”

      While this was passing, Simon Renard, who stood among the throng of privy-councillors, observed in a whisper to those nearest him, – “If this despatch is signed and sent forth, Mary’s hopes are ruined. She will suspect some treachery on the part of her friends, and immediately embark for France, which is what Northumberland desires to accomplish.”

      “His scheme shall be defeated, then,” replied Pembroke; “it never shall be signed.”

      “Be not too sure of that,” rejoined Renard, with a scarcely-repressed sneer.

      “And now, my lord of Arundel,” said the Duke, taking the document from Suffolk, “we tarry for your signature.”

      “Then your grace must tarry still longer,” replied Arundel, sullenly, “for I am in no mood to furnish it.”

      “Ha!” exclaimed Northumberland, fiercely, – but, instantly checking himself, he turned to the next peer, and continued: “I will pass on, then, to you, Lord Shrewsbury. I am assured of your loyalty. What! do you, too, desert your queen? God’s mercy! my lord, I have been strangely mistaken in you. Pembroke, you can now prove I was in error. You fold your arms – ‘tis well! I understand you. Rich, Huntingdon, Darcy, I appeal to you. My lords! my lords! you forget to whom you owe allegiance. Sir Thomas Cheney, – do you not hear me speak to you, Sir Thomas? Cecil, my politic, crafty Cecil, – a few strokes of your pen is all I ask, and those you refuse me. Gates, Petre, Cheke, – will none of you move? will none sign?”

      “None,” answered Pembroke.

      “It is false,” cried Northumberland, imperiously; “you shall all sign, —all! vile, perjured traitors that you are! I will have your hands to this paper, or, by God’s precious soul! I will seal it with your blood. Now, will you obey me?”

      There was a stern, deep silence.

      “Will you obey him?” demanded Renard, in a mocking whisper. “No!” answered Pembroke, fiercely.

      “Guards!” cried Northumberland, “advance, and attach their persons.”

      The command was instantly obeyed by the arquebusiers, who marched forward and surrounded them.

      Jane fixed an inquiring look upon Northumberland, but she spoke not.

      “What next?” demanded Pembroke, in a loud voice.

      “The block,” replied Northumberland.

      “The block!” exclaimed Jane, rising, while the colour forsook her cheek. “Oh! no, my lord, – no.”

      “But I say yea,” returned the Duke, peremptorily. “‘Fore Heaven! these rebellious lords think I am as fearful of shedding blood as they are of shedding ink. But they shall find they are mistaken. Away with them to instant execution.”

      “Your grace cannot mean this!” cried Jane, horror-stricken.

      “They shall have five minutes for reflection,” returned the Duke, sternly. “After that time, nothing shall save them.’”

      An earnest consultation was held among the council. Three minutes had expired. The Duke beckoned a sergeant of the guard towards him.

      “You had better sign,” whispered Simon Renard; “I will find some means of communicating with her highness.”

      “We have reflected,” cried the Earl of Pembroke, “and will do your grace’s behests.”

      “It is well,” answered Northumberland. “Set them free.” As soon as the guard had withdrawn, the council advanced, and each, in turn, according to his degree, subscribed the despatch. This done, Northumberland delivered it to an officer, enjoining him to give it instantly to the messenger, with orders to the latter to ride for his life, and not to draw bridle till he reached Kenninghall.

      “And now,” continued the Duke, addressing another officer, “let the gates of the Tower be closed, the drawbridges raised, and suffer none to go forth, on pain of death, without my written order.”

      “Diable!” exclaimed De Noailles, shrugging his shoulders.

      “Prisoners!” cried several of the privy-councillors.

      “You are the queen’s guests, my lords,” observed the Duke, drily.

      “Do you agree to my scheme now?” asked Renard, in a deep whisper. “Do you consent to Northumberland’s assassination?”

      “I do,” replied Pembroke. “But who will strike the blow?”

      “I will find the man,” answered Renard.

      These words, though uttered under the breath of the speakers, reached the ears of Cuthbert Cholmondeley.

      Shortly afterwards, the council broke up; and Jane was conducted with much state to the royal apartments.

      III. – OF THE THREE GIANTS OF THE TOWER, OG, GOG, AND MAGOG; OF XIT, THE DWARF; OF THE FAIR CICELY; OF PETER TRUSBUT, THE PANTLER, AND POTENTIA

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