'How can I wear the crown which lawfully belongs to another?' she moaned. 'But it will not be for long. Princess Mary is away from London just now, having fled for her life, until she can rally her party. But she will return, I know, and the justness of the nation will place her at its head--for it is idle talk about the slur on her birth. Her mother was lawfully married to King Henry, and it was only for his own vicious ends that he put her away. However, Margery, we must leave all this, for it is no use dwelling upon it now that I have promised Lord Dudley to obey his wishes.' She sobbed again and again, as we dressed her regally for the grand doings of that day, and every sob went to my heart and made me echo it, until she ceased weeping to wipe my tears away, and Mistress Ellen said I was nothing but a hindrance, and began to rate me sorely. When Lady Jane was dressed for the ceremony--I had almost said sacrifice--she looked wondrously young and lovely. Her figure was tall, slight and well proportioned, giving promise of great beauty. Her dress--which the duchesses had brought with them for the occasion--was a gown of cloth of gold trimmed with pearls, a stomacher blazing with diamonds and other precious stones, and a surcoat of purple velvet bordered with ermine. Her train was of purple velvet and was also edged with ermine and richly embroidered in gold. Her slender and swan-like throat was encircled with a carcanet of gold set with rubies and pearls, from which hung one almost priceless pearl. Her headdress was a coif of velvet adorned with rows of pearls and bound together by a circlet of gold. I had never seen such grand attire in my life and was feeling quite overwhelmed by it, when Mistress Ellen said in my ear, 'I like not so many pearls. It is said they mean tears, and truly our mistress was tearful enough in the putting of them on. God grant that she may not also take them off in tears!' Lady Jane lingered a little in her room when we had dressed her, as if reluctant to quit it. 'I have been often very happy here,' she said wistfully, 'and I know not what the future may have in store for me.' I wished then, and I wished often afterwards, that I could have spoken out and told her all that Sir Hubert would have said to her if he had had the chance, but could only think of some of his words and of those Lady Caroline Wood had made me promise to say, and therefore faltered-- 'Dear madam, do not think of yourself now, but only of the people of England. You know it is for their good that you are going to sacrifice your own wishes.' 'For their good!' she exclaimed. 'Oh, Margery, if I could think it was for their real good I could go cheerfully to death if needs be!'