“And have been ashamed of it ever since,” said More; “it was sacrilege with such a name. Now, I am plain Thomas, and more besides. Why did you send for me, Beatrice?” “I have no defence,” said the girl, “save that I wanted to see you.” “And that is the prettiest defence you could have made--if it does not amount to corruption. Mr. Torridon, what is the repartee to that?” “I need no advocate,” said the girl; “I can plead well enough.” Ralph looked up at her again with a certain interest. She seemed on marvellously good terms with the whole family, and had an air of being entirely at her ease. She had her black eyes bent down on to a piece of grass that she was twisting into a ring between her slender jewelled fingers, and her white teeth were closed firmly on her lower lip as she worked. Her long silk skirts lay out unregarded on the grass, and her buckles gleamed beneath. Her voice was pleasant and rather deep, and Ralph found himself wondering who she was, and why he had not seen her before, for she evidently belonged to his class, and London was a small place. “I see you are making one more chain to bind me to you,” said More presently, watching her. She held it up. “A ring only,” she said. “Then it is not for me,” said More, “for I do not hold with Dr. Melanchthon, nor yet Solomon in the matter of wives. Now, Mr. Torridon, tell us all some secrets. Betray your master. We are all agog. Leave off that ring, Beatrice, and attend.” “I am listening,” said the girl as serenely as before, still intent on her weaving. “The King breakfasted this morning at eight of the clock,” said Ralph gravely. “It is an undoubted fact, I had it on the highest authority.” “This is excellent,” said Sir Thomas. “Let us all talk treason. I can add to that. His Grace had a fall last night and lay senseless for several hours.” He spoke with such gravity that Ralph glanced up. At the same moment Beatrice looked up from her work and their eyes met. “He fell asleep,” added Sir Thomas. * * * * * It was very pleasant to lie there in the shadow of the lime that afternoon, and listen to the mild fooling, and Ralph forgot his manners, and almost his errand too, and never offered to move. The grass began to turn golden as the sun slanted to the West, and the birds began to stir after the heat of the day, and to chirp from tree to tree. A hundred yards away the river twinkled in the sun, seen beyond the trees and the house, and the voices of the boatmen came, softened by distance and water, as they plied up and down the flowing highway. Once a barge went past under the Battersea bank, with music playing in the stern, and Ralph raised himself on his elbow to watch it as it went down the stream with flags flying behind, and the rhythmical throb of the row-locks sounding time to the dancing melody.