The sun descended toward the horizon. Sir Thomas More, seated on a terrace of his mansion at Chelsea, sought temporary quiet and repose from the oppressive burdens of a life every hour of which was devoted to the service of his king and country. His young children formed a joyous group around him, their flaxen heads crowned with blades of wheat and wild flowers they had gathered in the fields, for it was the golden time of harvest. Margaret, assisted by William Roper, directed their games, and was now trying to teach them a Scotch dance, marking the wild, fantastical rhythm with the notes of her sweet, melodious voice. Sir Thomas himself had joined in their play, when suddenly the king made his appearance. He had many times already honored them with such visits since Sir Thomas became a member of the council, having apparently conceived a great affection for him, and every day seeming to become more and more pleased with his conversation. “I know not why it is,” he would often say, “but when I have been for any length of time in conversation with More I experience a singular tranquillity of soul, and indeed feel almost happy. His presence has the magical effect of lulling my cares to sleep and calming my anxieties.” On seeing the king, More immediately advanced with great deference to receive him, while the children at once left off their sports. “Why, what is this?” he exclaimed; “I did not come to interrupt your amusements, but on the contrary to enjoy them with you.” But the wild mirth and _abandon_ of the children had fled at the approach of royalty, and, in spite of these kind assurances, they withdrew in rapid succession, too glad to recover their liberty, and their father was thus left alone with the king. “Who is the young man I see here?” inquired the sovereign. “He is the affianced husband of my daughter, sire; his name is William Roper,” answered More. “What! is she affianced already?” said the king. “Yes, sire; the family of Roper has for many years been united to ours by the sincerest ties of friendship, and, strengthening these by ties of blood, we hope greatly to increase our mutual happiness.” “That is so,” replied the king. “And they will doubtless be happy. In your families you preserve liberty of choice, while we princes, born to thrones, sacrifice our interior happiness to those political combinations demanded by the interests of our subjects.”