'It is not fine writing that is wanted,' she went on, 'but a plain, unvarnished statement of the facts. And, Margery,' she said in conclusion, 'you must also tell the story of brave Sir Thomas Wyatt's insurrection and of your dear knight's gallant efforts to cause me to reign over this land, and to gain back the throne for me. I have been thinking, dear, that I was hard upon them always in my great desire to be left alone. But since you told me that Sir Thomas Wyatt's object was against Queen Mary's Spanish marriage and that Sir Hubert's motive was to save England from bigoted Roman Catholicism and Spain and the Inquisition, I have come to view the matter differently, and so will others, if you tell them exactly what they thought. Come, Margery, look up, dear one, for you have a great work before you, and you must take heart and live to do it. You have to vindicate the honour of two noble knights and of your mistress, and clear their names, which have been smirched and blackened by the tongues of powerful enemies. No one can do it but you, dear, in exactly the same way, for your loving eyes have seen us as we are and not as we are supposed to be; and you possess Love, the master-key, which can explain all that has appeared so wrong and presumptuous and rebellious in our lives. You must do this for me, Margery, and for your dear knight, Sir Hubert, and for Sir Thomas Wyatt.' I promised that I would, and she blessed and thanked me very solemnly, saying that she was sure that God would give me strength and wisdom for the task. And I thought then that this must be the special work which Master Montgomery said might be given me to do when I left home and went to London. CHAPTER XXVI Lady Jane's Execution The fatal day of the execution dawned at last, and I would that I could draw a veil over its direful happenings. But my lady's charge is upon me to tell everything exactly as I saw it occur, and so I cannot pick and choose. It was February 12, a dull, cold morning, and within the Tower people went about with dismal faces, as well they might, for most were sorry for my poor young mistress. She had passed a great part of the night--her last night--in prayer, and it was only at my earnest entreaty that she at length lay down for an hour or two before morning broke. Then she slept as sweetly as a little child, and Mistress Ellen and I stole on tiptoe to the bedside to look at her, as those look who will not see the loved face any more.