"That two of those followers of the Pope who have most strongly opposed your Majesty's efforts for the good of the land have at last accepted godly counsel." "I rejoice," said the king. "Would that the Princess Mary were one of them. Is it true, my lord, that no word of submission to him who is rightly the supreme head of the church in England has come from her Grace?" "It is true, your Highness." "Then when I die--no, my lord, do not deny it. I know well that few days are left to me--my sister will be on the throne. She will bring back the falseness of the old religion. Not the sovereign but the Pope will rule in the land, and I can do nothing to prevent it. How little power a king has!" Northumberland's heart beat fast. Now was his opportunity. "Has your Majesty considered that the rightful heirs of king as well as of subject are those whom he himself shall name?" "Do you mean, my lord, that it is my right to name her who shall follow me? that I could leave the crown to her Grace, the Princess Elizabeth, if I would?" "Our glorious ruler, Henry VIII., bequeathed his crown as he would have it to descend. Surely, it would be in your Majesty's power to leave it to the Princess Elizabeth's Grace or to whomever of the descendants of the illustrious sovereign, King Henry VII., your Majesty might choose." "The Princess Elizabeth was taught the principles of the truth even as I myself was," mused the king. "True, your Majesty," agreed the duke, "but she is only twenty years of age. It might easily come to pass that she would wed a foreign prince of the false faith, and that the land, now so favored with the light of truth, would be again plunged into darkness. If she were already wed, it would be safer, though many in the realm believe that neither of the daughters of King Henry can rightfully inherit the crown. An heir upon whom all must unite would save strife and it may be bloodshed." "That might well be," said the king thoughtfully. Then Northumberland suggested boldly, though with some inward fear:-- "The sisters of your Majesty's illustrious father, could you----" the duke hesitated. "The granddaughter of Margaret Tudor is the Queen of Scots, the little maiden who refused my hand," said the king with a faint smile, "but she is of the false faith. The granddaughter of Mary Tudor is my old playmate, the lady Jane Grey, or is she not now Lady Dudley, my lord? Was it not a few days ago that she became the wife of your son? She is well-principled in the truth." "Do not fancy, I beg your Highness, that a thought of what your Majesty had in mind moved me to look with favor upon the mutual affection of the young couple." "No," said the young king a little wearily. "Arrange it in any way that you will to have the kingdom fall into the hands of her who will lead it more fully into the light, and bear it further from the idolatrous worship of the earlier days."