"John Heywood," said she, "you have often told me that you loved me;and I know that my poor unfortunate mother trusted you, and summoned you as a witness of her innocence. You could not at that time save the mother, but will you now serve Anne Boleyn's daughter, and be her faithful friend?""I will," said Heywood, solemnly, "and as true as there is a God above us, you shall never find me a traitor.""I believe you, John; I know that I may trust you. Listen then, Iwill now tell you my secret--a secret which no one but God knows, and the betrayal of which might bring me to the scaffold. Will you then swear to me, that you will never, under any pretext, and from any motive whatsoever, betray to anybody, so much as a single word of what I am now about to tell you? Will you swear to me, never to intrust this secret to any one, even on your death-bed, and not to betray it even in the confessional?""Now as regards that, princess," said John, with a laugh, "you are perfectly safe. I never go to confession, for confession is a highly-spiced dish of popery on which I long since spoilt my stomach; and as concerns my deathbed, one cannot, under the blessed and pious reign of Henry the Eighth, altogether know whether he will be really a participant of any kind, or whether he may not make a far more speedy and convenient trip into eternity by the aid of the hangman.""Oh, be serious, John--do, I pray you! Let the fool's mask, under which you hide your sober and honest face, not hide it from me also.
Be serious, John, and swear to me that you will keep my secret.""Well, then, I swear, princess; I swear by your mother's spirit to betray not a word of what you are going to tell me.""I thank you, John. Now lean this way nearer to me, lest the breeze may catch a single word of mine and bear it farther. John, I love!"She saw the half-surprised, half-incredulous smile which played around John Heywood's lips. "Oh," continued she, passionately, "you believe me not. You consider my fourteen years, and you think the child knows nothing yet of a maiden's feelings. But remember, John, that those girls who live under a warm sun are early ripened by his glowing rays, and are already wives and mothers when they should still be dreaming children. Well, now, I too am the daughter of a torrid zone, only mine has not been the sun of prosperity, and it has been sorrow and misfortune which have matured my heart. Believe me, John, I love! A glowing, consuming fire rages within me; it is at once my delight and my misery, my happiness and my future.
"The king has robbed me of a brilliant and glorious future; let them not, then, grudge me a happy one, at least. Since I am never to be a queen, I will at least be a happy and beloved wife. If I am condemned to live in obscurity and lowliness, at the very least, Imust not be prohibited from adorning this obscure and inglorious existence with flowers, which thrive not at the foot of the throne, and to illuminate it with stars more sparkling than the refulgence of the most radiant kingly crown.""Oh, you are mistaken about your own self!" said John Heywood, sorrowfully. "You choose the one only because the other is denied.
You would love only because you cannot rule; and since your heart, which thirsts for fame and honor, can find no other satisfaction, you would quench its thirst with some other draught, and would administer love as an opiate to lull to rest its burning pains.
Believe me, princess, you do not yet know yourself! You were not born to be merely a loving wife, and your brow is much too high and haughty to wear only a crown of myrtle. Therefore, consider well what you do, princess! Be not carried away by your father's passionate blood, which boils in your veins also. Think well before you act. Your foot is yet on one of the steps to the throne. Draw it not back voluntarily. Maintain your position; then, the next step brings you again one stair higher up. Do not voluntarily renounce your just claim, but abide in patience the coming of the day of retribution and justice. Only do not yourself make it impossible, that there may then be a full and glorious reparation. PRINCESSElizabeth may yet one day be queen, provided she has not exchanged her name for one less glorious and noble.""John Heywood," said she, with a bewitching smile, "I have told you I love him.""Well, love him as much as you please, but do it in silence, and tell him not of it; but teach your love resignation.""John, he knows it already.""Ah, poor princess! you are still but a child, that sticks its hands in the fire with smiling bravery and scorches them, because it knows not that fire burns.""Let it burn, John, burn! and let the flames curl over my head!
Better be consumed in fire than perish slowly and horribly with a deadly chill! I love him, I tell you, and he already knows it!""Well, then, love him, but, at least, do not marry him!" cried John Heywood, surlily.
"Marry!" cried she, with astonishment. "Marry! I had never thought of it."She dropped her head upon her breast, and stood there, silent and thoughtful.
