“No,” she exclaimed at last, “I do not wish to be thus resigned! It is very easy for you to talk, it is nothing for me to listen; but as for me, I am on the verge of life. Without you, for me life has no longer the least attraction! Let them take mine when they take yours! It is the same thing; they owe it to the king. He so thirsts for blood that it will not do to rob him of one drop. Have you not betrayed him? Well! I am a traitor also; let him avenge himself, then; let him take his revenge; let him pick my bones, since he tears my heart. I am you; let him devour me also. Write my name on your register,” she continued, suddenly turning toward the clerk, as if convinced that the reasons she had given could not be answered. “Come, friend, good-fortune to you――two prisoners instead of one! Come, write; you write so well! Margaret More, aged eighteen years, guilty of high treason!” The clerk made no reply. “Is there anything lacking?” said Margaret. “But, damsel,” he replied, placing his pen behind his ear with an air of indecision, “I cannot do that; you have not been accused. If you are an accomplice and have some revelations to make, you must so declare before the court.” “You are right; yes, I am an accomplice!” she cried. “Therefore come; let nothing stop you.” “My beloved child,” said Sir Thomas painfully, “you would have me, then, condemn myself by acknowledging you as an accomplice in a crime which I have not committed?” “O my father!” cried the young girl, “tell me, have you, then, some hope? No! no! you are deceiving me. You see it! You have heard it! They would have come this night to tear you from our arms, from your desolated home! No; all is over, and I too wish to die!” As she said these words, Cromwell, who had rapidly and noiselessly ascended the stairs, pushed open the door and entered. He came to see if More had arrived. He saluted him without the least embarrassment, and remarked the tears that wet the beautiful face of Margaret. She immediately wiped them away, and looked at him scornfully. “You come to see if the time has arrived!” she said; “if my father has fallen into your hands. Yes, here he is; look at him closely, and dare to accuse him!” “Damsel,” replied Cromwell, bowing awkwardly, “ladies should not meddle with justice, whose sword falls before them.” As he said this, Kingston, the lieutenant of the Tower, entered, followed by an escort of armed guards. The sound of their footsteps, the clanking of their arms, astonished Margaret. Her bosom heaved. She felt that there was no longer any resistance to be offered; she understood that it was this power which threatened to crush and destroy all she loved――she, poor young girl, facing these armed men, covered with iron, clashing with steel; these living machines, who understood neither eloquence, reason, truth, sex, age, nor beauty. She regarded them with a look of silent despair.