“Mary is no longer queen,” replied her husband, bending the knee before her. “To you, Jane, belongs that title; and it will be for you to decide whether she shall live or not.” “The battle is not yet won,” observed the Duke of Suffolk. “Let us obtain the crown before we pass sentence on those who have usurped it.” “The lady Jane must accompany us,” whispered De Noailles to Dudley. “If she falls into the hands of our enemies, she may be used as a formidable weapon against us.” “My lord,” cried Jane, kneeling to the Duke of Suffolk; “if my supplications fail to move my husband, do not you turn a deaf car to them. Believe me, this plot will totally fail, and conduct us all to the scaffold.” “The duke cannot retreat if he would, madam,” interposed Do Noailles. “Courtenay has betrayed us all to Gardiner, and ere now I doubt not officers are despatched to arrest us.” “Jane, you must come with us,” cried Dudley. “Never,” she replied, rising. “I will not stir from this spot. I implore you and my father to remain here likewise, and submit yourselves to the mercy of the queen.” “And do you think such conduct befitting the son of the great Duke of Northumberland?” replied Dudley. “No, madam, the die is cast. My course is taken. You must come with us. There is no time for preparation. M. De Noailles, I place myself entirely in your hands. Let horses be brought round instantly,” he added, turning to his esquire. “They shall be at the gate almost before you can reach it, my lord,” returned Cholmondeley. “There are several ready-saddled within the stables.” “It is well,” replied Dudley. And the esquire departed. “Father, dear father,” cried Jane, “you will not go. You will not leave me.” But the duke averted his gaze from her, and rushed out of the room. De Noailles made a significant gesture to Dudley, and followed him. “Jane,” cried Dudley, taking her hand, “I entreat—nay command you—to accompany me.” “Dudley,” she replied, “I cannot—will not—obey you in this. If I could, I would detain you. But as I cannot, I will take no part in your criminal designs.” “Farewell for ever, then,” rejoined Dudley, breaking from her. “Since you abandon me in this extremity, and throw off my authority, I shall no longer consider myself bound to you by any ties.” “Stay!” replied Jane. “You overturn all my good resolutions. I am no longer what I was. I cannot part thus.” “I knew it,” replied Dudley, straining her to his bosom. “You will go with me.” “I will,” replied Jane, “since you will have it so.” “Come, then,” cried Dudley, taking her hand, and leading her towards the door—“to the throne!” “No,” replied Jane, sadly—“to the scaffold!” XXVII.—OF THE INSURRECTION OF SIR THOMAS WYAT.