“Be true to the faith you have embraced, and fear nothing,” continued Renard. “You may yet be restored to favour, and a new career of ambition will open to you.” “Life is all I ask,” replied the Duke; “and if that be spared, it shall be spent in her majesty’s service. My pride is thoroughly humbled. But the language you hold to me, M. Renard, is not that of an enemy. Let me think that our differences are ended.” “They will be ended to-morrow,” replied Renard, coldly. “Be it so,” replied Northumberland. “The first act of the life I receive from her highness shall be to prostrate myself at her feet: the next, to offer my thanks to you, and entreat your friendship.‘’ “Tush,” returned Renard, impatiently. “My friendship is more to be feared than my enmity.” “If there is any means of repairing the wrong I have done you,” said the Duke, turning to Gunnora, “be assured I will do it.” “I am content with what your grace has done already,” rejoined Gunnora, sternly. “You cannot restore the Duke of Somerset to life. You cannot give back the blood shed on the scaffold—” “But I can atone for it,” interrupted the Duke. “Ay,” cried Gunnora, her eyes flashing with vindictive fire, “you can—fearfully atone for it.” “Ha!” exclaimed the Duke. “Your grace will not heed her raving,” remarked Renard, seeing that Northumberland’s suspicions were aroused by the old woman’s manner. “You can atone for it,” continued Gunnora, aware of the impression she had produced, and eager to remove it, “by a life of penance. Pass the night in prayer for the repose of his soul, and do not omit to implore pardon for yourself, and to-morrow I will freely forgive you.” “I will do as you desire,” replied the Duke. “I must now bid your grace farewell,” said Renard. “We shall meet to-morrow—on the scaffold.” “But not part there, I hope,” replied Northumberland, forcing a smile. “That will rest with your grace—not me,” replied Renard, in a freezing tone. “Will you accept this from me?” said Northumberland, detaching a jewelled ornament from his dress, and offering it to Gunnora. “I will accept nothing from you,” replied the old woman. “Yes,—one thing,” she added quickly. “It is yours,” rejoined the Duke. “Name it?” “You shall give it me to-morrow,” she answered evasively. “It is his head you require,” observed Renard, with a sinister smile, as they quitted the Beauchamp Tower. “You have guessed rightly,” rejoined the old woman, savagely. “We have him in our toils,” returned Renard. “He cannot escape. You ought to be content with your vengeance, Gunnora. You have destroyed both body and soul.” “I am content,” she answered. “And now to Mauger,” said Renard, “to give him the necessary instructions. You should bargain with him for Northumberland’s head, since you are so anxious to possess it.” “I shall not live to receive it,” rejoined Gunnora. “Not live!” he exclaimed. “What mean you?”