“Margaret,” he said, “you will take care of him, will you not?” And fearing he had said too much, he arose hurriedly, and went to examine a vase filled with beautiful flowers, which was placed on the table in the centre of the apartment, and thus concealed the tears which arose and filled his eyes. But the dwarf followed, and fell on his knees before him. “Come, come, do not distress yourself,” said Sir Thomas; “I will take care of you. Be quiet. Go get your dinner; it is your hour now.” Sir Thomas approached the window. While he stood there William Roper entered, and, going to him, told him that the boat was ready and the tide was up. More was seized with an inexpressible grief. For an instant he lost sight of everything around him; his head swam. “Whither go you?” asked his wife. “Dear Alice, I must to London.” “To London?” she replied sharply. “But we need you here! Why go to London? Is it to displease his majesty further, in place of staying quietly here in your own house, and doing simply whatever they ask of you? Well did I say that you did wrong in giving up your office. That is what has made the king displeased with you. You ought to write to Master Cromwell; he has a very obliging manner, and I am sure that all this could be very easily arranged; but you are ever loath to give up anything.” “It is indispensably necessary for me to go,” replied Sir Thomas. “I much prefer remaining. Come!” he said. “Father! father!” exclaimed all the children, “we will go with you to the boat.” “Lead me, dear papa,” said the youngest. Sir Thomas cast a glance toward Margaret, but she had disappeared. He supposed she did not wish to see him start, and he was grieved. However, he felt that it would be one trial less. “No, my children,” he replied; “I would rather that you come not with me.” “Why not, dear father?” they cried in accents of surprise and regret. “The wind is too strong, and the weather is not fair enough,” said Sir Thomas. “Yes, yes!” they cried, and threw their arms around his neck. “You cannot go to-day. I do not wish it,” said Sir Thomas in a decided manner. Words cannot describe the sufferings of this great man; he knew that he would no more behold his home or his children, and that, determined not to take the oath which he regarded as the first step toward apostasy in a Christian, they would not pardon him. He cast a last look upon his family and hurried toward the door. “You will come back to-morrow, will you not, father?” cried the children in one voice.