“Your reproaches are deserved, Dudley,” replied Jane, “and you cannot blame me more severely than I blame myself. Nevertheless, had I acceded to your desires,—had I raised you to the sovereignty,—had I turned a deaf ear to Renard’s counsel, and not suffered myself to be duped by his allies Arundel and Pembroke,—had I retained your father in the Tower,—my reign would not have been of much longer duration.” “I do not understand you, madam,” said Lord Guilford, sternly. “To be plain, then,” replied Jane,—“for disguise is useless now—I am satisfied that your father aimed at the crown himself,—that I was merely placed on the throne to prepare it for him,—and that when the time arrived, he would have removed me.” “Jane!” exclaimed her husband, furiously. “Have patience, dear Dudley!” she rejoined. “I say not this to rouse your anger, or to breed further misunderstanding between us. Heaven knows we have misery enough to endure without adding to it. I say it to reconcile you to your lot. I say it to check the spirit of ambition which I find is yet smouldering within your bosom. I say it to prevent your joining in any fresh attempt with your father, which will assuredly end in the destruction of both.” “But you have brought a charge so foul against him, madam,” cried her husband, “that as his son, I am bound to tell you you are grievously in error.” “Dudley,” replied Jane, firmly, “I have proofs that the Duke poisoned my cousin, King Edward. I have proofs also, that he would have poisoned me.” “It is false,” cried her husband, furiously—“it is a vile calumny fabricated by his enemies. You have been imposed upon.” “Not so, my lord,” cried Gunnora Braose, who had been an unseen listener to the conversation. “It is no calumny. The royal Edward was poisoned by me at your ‘father’s instigation. And you and your consort would have shared the same fate.” “False hag! thou liest,” cried Lord Guilford. “Read that,” replied Gunnora, placing a document in his hands. “It is my order in the Duke’s own writing. Do you credit me now.” Dudley hastily cast his eyes over the scroll. His countenance fell, and the paper dropped from his grasp. “And now hear my news,” continued the old woman, with a smile of exultation. “Your father has proclaimed Queen Mary at Cambridge.” “Impossible!” cried Dudley. “I tell you it is true,” replied Gunnora—“a messenger arrived at midnight with the tidings, and it was during the confusion created by the intelligence that I contrived to effect your escape. The Earl of Arundel is despatched to arrest him, and, ere to-morrow night, he will be lodged within the Tower. Yes,” she continued with a ferocious laugh—“I shall see him placed in the same dungeon in which he lodged my foster-son, the great Duke of Somerset. I shall see his head stricken off by the same axe, and upon the same scaffold, and I shall die content.” “Horrible!” cried Jane. “Leave us, wretched woman. Your presence adds to my affliction.”