“I cast her horoscope this noon at the Blue Boar,” the wizard said, with a queer smile. “Venus was in fortunate conjunction with Mars when Mistress Carew was born.” “Did you learn that by striking my horse, Master Sanders?” Betty retorted, with a mischievous glance from under her black lashes. The astrologer looked at her with an immovable face. “You are mistaken,” he said calmly; “I touched not the beast. It sometimes happens that these dumb creatures recognize a power more than human, and are so thrown into a convulsion of terror.” “With your aid?” persisted the young girl, laughing incredulously, and even the queen smiled. “My young mistress is inclined to jest,” Sanders remarked grimly, “and to make light of my art, but this will not be so when she talks to her affianced husband.” “My affianced husband!” exclaimed Betty, with indignation; “you are much in error in good sooth, for I am not promised.” The wizard looked at her and laughed, his brilliant eyes almost fascinating the young girl’s startled gaze. “You were promised in your cradle, and a lovely mate you are like to get, Mistress Carew,” he answered quietly, with such a tone of certainty that Betty experienced a sharp sensation of apprehension. “’Tis false!” she exclaimed passionately, her agitation so genuine that the queen interposed. “Why fret the child, sir wizard?” Catherine said; “what warrant have you for this statement?” Sanders turned to her with courteous respect, although his face showed a certain malicious enjoyment. “We read these matters in the stars, madam,” he said gravely, “and they cannot mislead us. Mistress Carew is promised to a tall, dark man with a sword-cut across his left eyebrow; one day she will find that the astrologer has not lied.” Seeing Betty’s angry alarm, Catherine turned the matter aside; she had the tact to avoid a scene which was becoming unpleasant. “You claim that all your knowledge is from the stars, sir?” she asked indifferently, “and there is no human agency in the affair?” “None, madam,” the wizard rejoined solemnly; “we read the destinies of men and women in the heavens, and the future even of this realm unrolls itself in that great scroll for the marvelling eye of the seer to read.” The queen leaned back in her chair and shaded her eyes with her hand. “The future of this realm!” she said in a low voice; “I pray the saints for it! I, who have never done England any good, would be sorry indeed to do it harm.” “You need have no fear, madam,” the sage rejoined, speaking as low as she, so that the usher sent by Bedingfield, who was posted at the door, could not catch their words. Catherine looked up quickly. “You speak confidently,” she said; “why so?” “Your grace does well to ask,” he answered gravely. “I have seen a vision, such an one as no man sees but once or twice in a lifetime, even though he is born to read the stars.” “Speak on,” said the queen, as he paused.