“I know it,” replied Gunnora; “but that shall not hinder me. If I succeed in saving that fair young creature, whom your father’s arts have placed in such fearful jeopardy, from certain destruction, I care not what becomes of me. My boldness, I am well assured, will be fearfully visited upon me, and upon my grandson at my side. But were it the last word I had to utter,—were this boy’s life,” she added, laying her hand on the youth’s shoulder, who arose at the touch, “set against hers, I would repeat my warning.” “Remove your cap in presence of the queen, knave,” cried one of the halberdiers, striking off the young man’s cap with his staff. “She is not my queen,” rejoined the youth, boldly; “I am for Queen Mary, whom Heaven and Our Lady preserve!” “Peace, Gilbert!” cried Gunnora, authoritatively. “Treason! treason!” exclaimed several voices—“down with them!” “Do them no injury,” interposed Jane, waving her hand; “let them depart freely. Set forward, my lords.” “Hear me, sovereign lady, before I am driven from you,” cried the old woman, in accents of passionate supplication—“hear me, I implore you. You are going to a prison, not a palace.—Look at yon angry sky from which the red lightning is flashing. A moment since it was bright and smiling; at your approach it has become black and overcast. It is an omen not to be despised.” “Hence!” cried Lord Guilford. “And you, Lord Guilford Dudley,” continued Gunnora, in a stern tone,—“you, who have added your voice to that of your false father, to induce your bride to accept the crown,—think not you will ever rule this kingdom,—think not the supreme authority will be yours. You are a puppet in your father’s hands; and when you have served his turn, he will cast you aside—or deal with you as he dealt with Lord Seymour of Dudley,—with the lord protector, by the axe,—or, as he dealt with his sovereign, Edward the Sixth, by poison.” “This passeth all endurance,” exclaimed Lord Guilford;—“away with her to prison.” “Not so, my dear lord,” said Queen Jane. “See you not that her supposed wrongs have turned her brain? She is faithful to the memory of the lord protector. If my reign prove as brief as she would have me believe it will be, it shall never be marked by severity. My first act shall be one of clemency. Take this ring, my poor woman,” she added, detaching a brilliant from her taper finger, “and when you need a friend, apply to Queen Jane.” Gunnora received the costly gift with a look of speechless gratitude; the tears started to her eyes, and she sank upon her knees in the boat, burying her face in her hands. In this state, she was rowed swiftly away by her grandson, while the loudest shouts were raised for the munificence and mercy of Jane, who was not sorry to hide herself behind the silken curtains of her barge. At this moment, a loud and rattling peal of thunder burst overhead.