Windsor Castle [93]
away, Henry will see only your faults, and will open his eyes to all I now tell him?"
A sob was all the answer Anne could return.
"You will feel as I feel towards you," pursued the queen--"hatred towards her; but you will not have the consolations I enjoy. You will have merited your fate, and you will then think upon me and my woes, and will bitterly, but unavailingly, repent your conduct. And now, Henry," she exclaimed, turning solemnly to him, "you have pledged your royal word to me, and given me your hand upon it, that if you find this woman false to you she shall expiate her offence on the block. I call upon you to ratify the pledge in her presence."
"I do so, Catherine," replied the king. "The mere suspicion of her guilt shall be enough."
"Henry!" exclaimed Anne.
"I have said it," replied the king.
"Tremble, then, Anne Boleyn!" cried Catherine, "tremble! and when you are adjudged to die the death of an adulteress, bethink you of the prediction of the queen you have injured. I may not live to witness your fate, but we shall meet before the throne of an eternal Judge."
"Oh, Henry, this is too much!" gasped Anne, and she sank fainting into his arms.
"Begone!" cried the king furiously. "You have killed her!"
"It were well for us both if I had done so," replied Catherine. "But she will recover to work my misery and her own. To your hands I commit her punishment. May God bless you, Henry!"
With this she replaced her mask, and quitted the chapel.
Henry, meanwhile, anxious to avoid the comments of his attendants, exerted himself to restore Anne Boleyn to sensibility, and his efforts were speedily successful.
"Is it then reality?" gasped Anne, as she gazed around. "I hoped it was a hideous dream. Oh, Henry, this has been frightful! But you will not kill me, as she predicted? Swear to me you will not!"
"Why should you be alarmed?" rejoined the king. "If you are faithful, you have nothing to fear."
"But you said suspicion, Henry--you said suspicion!" cried Anne.
"You must put the greater guard upon your conduct," rejoined the king moodily. "I begin to think there is some truth in Catherine's insinuations."
"Oh no, I swear to you there is not," said Anne--"I have trifled with the gallants of Francis's court, and have listened, perhaps too complacently, to the love-vows of Percy and Wyat, but when your majesty deigned to cast eyes upon me, all others vanished as the stars of night before the rising of the god of day. Henry, I love you deeply, devotedly--but Catherine's terrible imprecations make me feel more keenly than I have ever done before the extent of the wrong I am about to inflict upon her--and I fear that retributive punishment will follow it."
"You will do her no wrong," replied Henry. "I am satisfied of the justice of the divorce, and of its necessity; and if my purposed union with you were out of the question, I should demand it. Be the fault on my head."
"Your words restore me in some measure, my liege," said Anne. "I love you too well not to risk body and soul for you. I am yours for ever--ah!" she exclaimed, with a fearful look.
"What ails you, sweetheart?" exclaimed the king.
"I thought I saw a face at the window," she replied--"a black and hideous face like that of a fiend."
"It was mere fancy," replied the king. "Your mind is disturbed by what has occurred. You had better join your attendants, and retire to your own apartments."
"Oh, Henry!" cried Anne--" do not judge me unheard - do not believe what any false tongue may utter against me. I love only you and can love only you. I would not wrong you, even in thought, for worlds."
"I believe you, sweetheart," replied the king tenderly.
So saying, he led her down the aisle to her attendants. They then proceeded together to the royal lodgings, where Anne retired to her own apartments, and Henry withdrew to his private chamber.
II. How Herne the Hunter appeared to Henry on the Terrace.
Henry again sat down to his despatches, and employed himself upon them to a late
A sob was all the answer Anne could return.
"You will feel as I feel towards you," pursued the queen--"hatred towards her; but you will not have the consolations I enjoy. You will have merited your fate, and you will then think upon me and my woes, and will bitterly, but unavailingly, repent your conduct. And now, Henry," she exclaimed, turning solemnly to him, "you have pledged your royal word to me, and given me your hand upon it, that if you find this woman false to you she shall expiate her offence on the block. I call upon you to ratify the pledge in her presence."
"I do so, Catherine," replied the king. "The mere suspicion of her guilt shall be enough."
"Henry!" exclaimed Anne.
"I have said it," replied the king.
"Tremble, then, Anne Boleyn!" cried Catherine, "tremble! and when you are adjudged to die the death of an adulteress, bethink you of the prediction of the queen you have injured. I may not live to witness your fate, but we shall meet before the throne of an eternal Judge."
"Oh, Henry, this is too much!" gasped Anne, and she sank fainting into his arms.
"Begone!" cried the king furiously. "You have killed her!"
"It were well for us both if I had done so," replied Catherine. "But she will recover to work my misery and her own. To your hands I commit her punishment. May God bless you, Henry!"
With this she replaced her mask, and quitted the chapel.
Henry, meanwhile, anxious to avoid the comments of his attendants, exerted himself to restore Anne Boleyn to sensibility, and his efforts were speedily successful.
"Is it then reality?" gasped Anne, as she gazed around. "I hoped it was a hideous dream. Oh, Henry, this has been frightful! But you will not kill me, as she predicted? Swear to me you will not!"
"Why should you be alarmed?" rejoined the king. "If you are faithful, you have nothing to fear."
"But you said suspicion, Henry--you said suspicion!" cried Anne.
"You must put the greater guard upon your conduct," rejoined the king moodily. "I begin to think there is some truth in Catherine's insinuations."
"Oh no, I swear to you there is not," said Anne--"I have trifled with the gallants of Francis's court, and have listened, perhaps too complacently, to the love-vows of Percy and Wyat, but when your majesty deigned to cast eyes upon me, all others vanished as the stars of night before the rising of the god of day. Henry, I love you deeply, devotedly--but Catherine's terrible imprecations make me feel more keenly than I have ever done before the extent of the wrong I am about to inflict upon her--and I fear that retributive punishment will follow it."
"You will do her no wrong," replied Henry. "I am satisfied of the justice of the divorce, and of its necessity; and if my purposed union with you were out of the question, I should demand it. Be the fault on my head."
"Your words restore me in some measure, my liege," said Anne. "I love you too well not to risk body and soul for you. I am yours for ever--ah!" she exclaimed, with a fearful look.
"What ails you, sweetheart?" exclaimed the king.
"I thought I saw a face at the window," she replied--"a black and hideous face like that of a fiend."
"It was mere fancy," replied the king. "Your mind is disturbed by what has occurred. You had better join your attendants, and retire to your own apartments."
"Oh, Henry!" cried Anne--" do not judge me unheard - do not believe what any false tongue may utter against me. I love only you and can love only you. I would not wrong you, even in thought, for worlds."
"I believe you, sweetheart," replied the king tenderly.
So saying, he led her down the aisle to her attendants. They then proceeded together to the royal lodgings, where Anne retired to her own apartments, and Henry withdrew to his private chamber.
II. How Herne the Hunter appeared to Henry on the Terrace.
Henry again sat down to his despatches, and employed himself upon them to a late