"I trusted to have seen thee home ere this, dear Annis," she said, "for we heard that the Queen thy mistress was dead, and I thought thou wouldst not be like to tarry yonder." "Ay," she said, sadly. "She is gone to God; and laud be to Him for it! No, Isoult, I had no mind to abide there." She shuddered, as with very horror, so that Isoult answered--"Methinks, sweet heart, thy Lord Marquis of Denia could be no worser than Bishop Gardiner." "There be eviller things in Spain than even he is," said she, and shook her head. "And where wilt thou go, Annis?" asked Isoult, "for my Lady's Grace of Suffolk is out of this kingdom. I would have loved dearly to have thee hither till thou mightest fit thyself with a service, but verily all my chambers be full filled, and I would not lodge thee in the nursery, where be already Esther and the childre, except for a short space." A little smile played about the lips of Annis. "Isoult," she said, "after all I have said and writ touching Spain (and in good sooth may yet say and write), I fear thou shalt think me a marvellous contrarious maid, if I own to thee that I am about to wed a Spanish gentleman." "Well," answered her friend, "that hangeth upon the Spanish gentleman's particular." "Truth," replied she; "and if I did not verily believe the grace of God to be in his heart, trust me, Isoult, I would never have him." "But wilt thou, then, go back to dwell in Spain?" "God forbid!" cried she, heartily. "I am afeard, sweet heart," suggested Isoult, "thou shalt find this country little better. There be nigh every week burnings some whither." "O Isoult, Isoult!" cried she, vehemently. "There may be any thing of horrible and evil; but that all were not so much as worthy to be cast into the scale against the Inquisition!" "Well," said she, "I have not dwelt there as thou hast; but I have dwelt here these last three years, the which thou hast not. But who, prithee, is thy servant [suitor]? He is not in the King's house, trow?" "No, nor like to be," said Annis. "It is Don Juan de Alameda, brother's son to Dona Isabel, of whom I writ to thee." "Thou wrotest marvellous little to me, Annis," said Isoult, smilingly. "Nay, I writ twice in every year, as I promised," answered she. "Then know thou," said Isoult, "that I never had those thy letters, saving two, which were (as I judge) the first thou didst write, and one other, two years gone or more, writ on the 14th day of August." "I writ thee three beside them," answered she. "I suppose they were lost at sea, or maybe they lie in the coffers of the Inquisition. Any way, let them be now. I thank God I am come safe out of that land, where, if any whither, Satan hath his throne." "Then," said Dr Thorpe, who had come in while she was speaking, "he must have two; for I am assured there is one set up at Westminster, nor is he oft away from it."