The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, January 11, 1903, Page 4

middie of of the r. He m The reath, who was d, when s £0 an om he: something, anyth Jene rose, picked up th e and of- cred it to her mistress c it one hand, while she e a glap with the other. Jane ran out, and M full of anger and shame, slammes the door locked it The te, belng the cause of all the trouble, the Impatiently threw to the floor agaln, end went over to vindow bench, where she threw 1f down to pout In the inutes she turned head ng instant and hen, after a little er to wi she had picked it up. Going back dow, she held it in 2 moment and then read it once, jce. The third time brought the the note nestled in the bosom not come off so well, for her not speak to her untll she in that evening to mske her ime Mary had forgotten bosom: so when array her for the dance it r, whereupon both girls ugh, end Jane kissed er, and Mary kissed p of Jane's head, and tk were riends again, So Brandon accepted Mary's invitation to Mary's dance, but his going the most pow- and this was s of Mary's had been going during the er usuaily includ 1t was a sort of a co- )ers Were more or less t of them v aious range as it may seem, often attempted to and a vers were miesior with or. M ives nor is : ¥ his zeal on Princess stepped up to prev. entrance ir, you will have to move out of this i ompously. “You are not at a g bout. You haye made a mistake me to the wrong place.” Lord of Buckingham is pleased to at rore of an_ass of himself evening,” replied Bran- fle, as he started across the eye he had caught and heard it all, b in ng to his rellef stood there ree ckingham and ran aro a _of allantly drawing h but could hard what was going on, it came 50 and was over 0 soon. Like a flas ‘e sword was out of its sh m's biade was ng. don’s eathed aga 1 saw it a My lord has en broke its po! with his heel agal d yving: “I will & er from everybod Mary laughed ais: g B you take it o receive my guests? Who vou, let me ask, to guard my 1 have to omit ity of the ou when eived worse girl's sk Turning to 1 am right glad to d regref exceedingly that our friend of Buckingham should so thirst for r blood.” 8he then led him to the and Queen, to whom he made his bow, end the palr continued their walk e room. Mary again alluded to the skirmish at the door, and said laughingly: “I would have come to your help, but 1 knew you were amply able to take care of yourself. I was sure you wouid worst the Duke in some way. It was better than a mummery, and I was glad to see it. I do not like him.” The King did not open these private balls, as he was supposed, at least not to be their patron, and the Queen, who was considerably older than Henry averse to such thinge. 8o the opened her own balls, dancing minutes with the floor entireiy d partner. It was the honor vening to open the ball with her, and e curious to see how men put them- es in hey way & stood so as to be casly obserWed and perchance . chosen. Brandon, after leaving Mary, had drifted into & corner of the room back of a group of people, and was talking to Wolsey— who wae always very friendly to him— and to Master Cavendish, a quaint_qulet, casy little man, full of learning and kind- ness, and & warm friend of the Princess Mary. It was time to open the bail, and, from my place in the musiciane' galiery, I could see Mary moving about among the guests, evidently looking for a partner, le the men resorte: to some ve jparent and amusing expedie o attract her attention. The Princess, how. ever, took none of the bidders, and soon, 1 noticed, she esfi[pd Brandon standing in the corner with his back toward her. Something told me she was going to ask him to open the dance, and I regretted t, because 1 knew it would set every no- bleman in the house against him, they be. ing very jealous of the “low-born favor- ites.”” as they called the untitled friends royalty. Sure enough. I as right. Mary at once began to make her way over to the corner, and I heard her say: “Mas. ter Brandon, will you dance with me?* It was done prettily. The whole girl changed as soo: s she found herself in front of him. In place of the old-time confidence, strongly tinged with arro- nce, she was almost shy, and blushed and stammered with quick coming breath, ike a burgher maid before her new-found e the courtiers made way t she walked, leading hand. Upon her lips and ook at this handsome new trophy of my bow and spear.” 1 was surprised and alarmed when Mary Bra but when 1 turned to the s to thelr play. im: 1 can, my surprise when the I Master, we have our orders for the st cé from the Princess.’” Imagine, also, if you can, my_ double irprise and alarm, nay, almost my fer- when the band struck IIF Jane's Luse.” 1 saw the look of surprise which Brandon gave Mary re demurely by his side, first heard the music, and T r nervous little laugh as she nod- r head, “Yes' and stepped closer im to take position for the dance. The moment she was in Brandon's arms, g like a sylph about the room. A stonishment and delight greeted fore they were half-way around. en a great clapping of hands, in the King himseif joined. It was a although, I think a graceful more utiful in La Galllard other dance. or, in fact, any tuation in which she can place 2 little time the Dowager Duchess dy in waiting to the d herself at the musicians’ id that her Majesty had sic stopped, and the mus se, ceased plaving at once. i turned quickly to me: our musicians weary that we are through wered for me in a high- accent: “I ordered the mu 1 will not permit such an indecent exhibition to go on longer.” Fire sprang to Mary's eves and she ex- claimed: “If your Majesty does not like the way we do and dance at my balls you can refire as soon as you see fit. Your face a kill-mirth anyway.” It never tork 1ong to rouse her 1adyship. The Queen turned to Henry, who was laughing, and angrily demanded: “Will vour Majesty permit me to be* s insuited in your very presen You got yourself into it; get ou &8 best you can., 1 have often told you to let her alone; she has sharp claws.” The King was really tired of Catherine's sour frown before he married her. It was her dower of Spanish gold that brought her a second Tudor husband. “Shall I not have what dances 1 want at my own balls the Princess. “That you shall, sister mine; that you ghall” answered the King. “Go on, master, and if the girl likes to dance ' that way. in_ God's_ name her have her wish. It will never hurt her; we will learn it ourself, and will wear the ladies out a-dancing.” After Mary had finished the opening e there was a great demand for in- iction. The King asked Brandon to ch him the steps, which he soon ned to perform with a grace perhaps aled by no living creature other t brown bear. The ladies were » shy and inclined to stand at but Mary had set the fashion and hers soon followed. I had taken a o my room and had learned the from Brandon; and was able to teach it also, (huu’h I lacked practice to make my step perfect. The Princess had no practice, but had danced beau- ly from the first, her strong young limbs and supple body taking as natur- 1lly to anything requiring grace of move- t as a cygnet to water. thought I. is my opportunity to Jane the new dance. I wauted to go her first, but was afraid, or for some music and arked did not, and took severai other la- they came. After I had shown the them I sought out my sweetheart. was not a prude, but I honestly be- he was the mo¥t provoking girl that lived. I never had succeeded in her hand even the smallest part stant, and vet 1 wae sure she liked much; aimost sure she loved me red 1 might unhinge it and carry . or something of that sort. I sup- When I went up and asked her to t me teach her the new dance, she said: “I thank you, Edwin; but there are oth- ers who are more anxious to learn than I, and you had better teach them first.” “But I want to teach you. When I wish to teach them I will go to thens “You did go to several others before you thought of coming to me,” answered Jane, pretending to be piqued. Now that was the unkindest thing I ever knew a girl to do—refuse me what she knew I so wanted, and then put the refusal on the pretended ground that 1 did not care much about {t. 1 so told her, and ehe saw she had carried things too far, and that I growing angry in earnesf. She then another false, though somewhat tering excuse: “I could not bear to go through that dance before so large a company. I should ot object if no one else uld that you—Edwin.” “Ed- win!” Oh! so soft and sweet! The little jade! to think that she could hoodwink me so easily, and talk me into a good hu. mor with hér goft, purring “Edwin.” I saw through all quickly enough, and left her without another word. In a few nutes she went into an adjoining room re 1 knew she was alone. The door was open and the music could be heard re, 50 I followed. 5 lady, there is no one to see us , 1 can teach you now, if you wish,” She saw she was cornered, and replied, with a toss of her saucy little head: “But t if I do not wish?"” Now this was more than T could endure with patience, so I answered: *‘My youn shall ask me before I teac! There are others wh much better than yo looking at me u allow another to teach you that 1 responded, “‘vou will have seen re last of me.” She had made me angry, nd 1 did not speak to her for more than a week. When I did—but 1 will tell you of that later on. There was one thing about Jane and the new step: so long as she did not know it she would not dance with any other man, and foolish as my feeling may have be 1 could not bear thought of her doing It. 1 resolved t if she nermitted another man to cach her that dance it would be all over between It w a terrible thought to me, that of losing Jane, and it came like a very gtroke upon my heart. I would think of her sweet little form, so compact and graceful; of her gray, calm eyes, so full of purity and mischief: of her fair oval face, almost pale, and womder If 1 could live without the hope of her. I deter- mined. however, that If she learned the new dance with any other man I would throw that hope to the winds, whether I lived or died. St. George! I believe I should have died. he evening was devoted to learning the new dance, and I saw Mary busily en- gaged imparting information among the ladies. As we were about to disperse I heard her say to Brandon: ‘ou have greatly pleased the King by bri: ng him a new amusement. He asked me where T learned it, and I told him you had taught it to Caskoden, and t T had it from him. 1 told Caskoden 1at he can tell the same stor Dh! but that is not true. Don't you think you should have told him the truth, or have evaded it in some way?’ asked Brandon, who was really a great lover of the truth, “when possible’” but who I on this occasion wished to appear mere truthful than he really was. f a man Is to A woman's taste, and she is in- clined to him, he lays up great stores in her heart by ‘making her think him good, and shameful impositions are often prac- ticed to this end. Mary flughed a little and answered, “I can't help it. You do not know. Had I told Henry that we four had enjoyed such a famous time in my rooms ‘he would have been very angry, and—and—you might have been the sufferer. “But might you not have compromised matters by going around the truth some way, and leaving the impression = that others were of tha party that cvening?” That was a mistake, for it gave Mary an opportunity to retaliate: “The best way to go around the truth, as you call it is by = direct lie. My lie was no worse than yours. But I did not stop to argue about such matters. There is something else T wished to say. I want to tell you that you have greatly pleased the King with ‘the new dance. Now teach him honor and ruff and your fortune is made. He has had some Jews and Lombards in of late to teach him new games at cards, but vours is worth all of them.” Then, can dance it she returned, somewhat hastily and irrelevantly. “I did not dance the new dance with any other geutieman—but 1 suppose you did not no- tice it,” and she was gone before he could thank her CHAPTER VL A RARE RIDE 'J:.O WINDSOR. The Princess knew her royal brother. A man would reccive quicker reward for inventing an amusement or u gauvy co3- tume for the King than by winning him a battle. Later in life the h: sad 10 his favor was in ridding him of his wife and heiping him (o a now one—a Gunge:- ous way, though, as Wolsey found to his sorrow _when he sunk his glory in poor Anne Boleyn. Brandon took the hint and managed to let it be known to this play-loving K'ng that he knew the latest Krencn games. The French Duc de longuevilie had fur some time been an honored prisoner to the English court, held as a hostaxe {rom Louis XII, but De Longueville was a blockhead, who could not keep his little black eyes off our fair ladies, who hated him, long enough to tell the deuce of spades from the ace of hearts. So Bran- don was taken from his duties, such as they were, and placed at the card table. This was fortunate at first; for being the best player the King always chose him as his partner, and. as in every otier game, the King always won. 1f he lost there would soon be no- game, and the man who won from him too frequently was in danger at any moment of bein rated guilty of the very highest sort o treason. 1 think many a man's fall, un- der Henr{ VIII, was owing to the fact that he did not always allow the King to win in some trivial matter of game or joust. Under these conditions everybody s anxious to be the King's partner. It is true he frequently forgot to divide his winnings, but his partner had this ad- vantage, ‘at least: there was no danger ot losing. That being the case, Brandon's seat opposite the King was very likely to excite envy, and the time soon came, Henry having learned the play, when Brandon had to face some one else, and the seat was too costly for a man with- out a treasury. It took but a few days to put Brandon hors de combat, financial- ly, and he would have been in a bad ight had not Wolsey come to his re- ief. After that, he played and pald the King In his own coin. This gres\l game of “honor and ruff” occupied Henry’'s mind day and night during a fortnight. He feasted on it to satlety, as he did with everything else; never having learned not to cloy his ap- petite by overfeeding. So we saw little of Brandon while the King's fever lasted, and Mary sald she wished she had re- mained silent about the cards. You see, she could enjoy this new plaything as well as her brother, but the King, of course, must be satisfied first. They both had enough eventually. Henry in one way, Mary in another. One day the fancy struck the King that he would rebuild a certain chapel at Windsor; so he took a number of the court, including l\lw Jane, Brandon and myseit, and went with us up to London, where ‘we lodged over night at Bridewell House. The next morning—as bright and beautiful a June day as ever gladdened the heart of a rose—we took horse for Windsor; a delightful seven-league ride over a fair road. Mary and Jane traveled side by side, with an occasional companion or two, as the road permitted. I was angry with Jane, as you know, so did not go near the girls; and Brandon, without any l))!mrenl intention one way or the other, allowed events to adlust themselves, and rode with Cavendish and me. We were gorhnpa forty yards behind the girls, and I noticed after a time that the Lady Mary kept looking backward in our direction, as if fearing rain from the east. 1 was In hopes that Jane, Loo, would fear the rain, but you would have sworn her neck was stiff, so straight ahead did she keep her face. We had ridden perhaps three leagues, when the Princess :lnr\rd her horse and turned In her saddle. heard her voice, but did not understand what she sald. In a- moment some one - ‘‘Master Brandon is wanted, 8o that genllemun rode forward, and I followed im. When we came up with the girls Mary sald: “I fear my: girth is loose." Brandon at once dismounted to tighten it, and the others of our immediate party began to cluster around. Brandon tried the girth. My lady, it is as tight as the horse can well bear,” he said. It is loose, I say,” insisted the Princess, with a little frritation; “‘the saddle feels like it. Try the other.” Then turning impatientiy ~ to the persons gathered around: “Does it require all of you, standing there like gaping bumpkins, to tighten my girth? Ride on; we can man- age this without so much’ help.” Upon this broad hint everybody ro({’e ahead, while I held the horse for Brandon, who went on with hig search for the loose girth. While he was looking for it Mary leaned over her horse's neck and asked: “Were you and Cavendish settling all the philosophical points now in dispute, that ¥ou found him so interesting?" Not at all,” answered Brandon, smil- You were =o absorbed, I supposed i could be nothlns short of that. PP 7 “No.” replied Brandon again. girth is not loos “Perhaps I only Imagined it,” returned Mary carelessly, having lost interes the girth, L 45 I looked toward Jane, whose eves wers bright with a smile, and turned BErandon's horse over to him. Jane's smile gradu- ally broadened into a laugh, and she said: dwin, I fear my girth is loose also.’* “As the Lady Mary’'s was?’ asked I, unable to keep a straight face any longer, "Yes," answered Jane, with a vigorous little nod of her head, and a pezal of lnug{ner,d b . Then drop back with me,” I responded. The Princess looked at us 'lthpa half smfle,d hnblf‘ frown, and remarked: ‘“Now you doubtless consid y bethuar ey o er yourselves very “'Yes,” returned Jane maliciously, nod- ding her head in emphatic assent, as the Princess and Brandon rode on before us. I hope she is satisfled now,” said Jane softo Voce to me. “So you want me to rid you?"" I replied. 4 VI e “Yes,” nodded Ja: “Why?' 1 asked. “Because 1 want you to,” Hg}}lfinlng response, ““Then why did you n the other evenlnl};" It JRn0e Wil me ““Because I did not want ,.Short but comprehensive, but a sufficlent reason for a 1 eaid nothing, “But the was the en- thought I, maiden.” however, and after a time Jane spoke: .““The danci and riding with you ls amqther thin 1018 not wish to dance with yo do wish to ride with you, Yo);x uflr:ut‘h: onlx gentleman to whom I would have said what I dld about my girth being loose. As to the new dance, 1 do not care to learn it because I would not dance it with any man but you, and not even with you—ye This made me glad, and coming from coy, modest Jane meant a greas deal. It meant that she cared for me, and would, some day, be mins; but it 'also meant ‘that she would take Ler own time and her own sweet way in being won. This was comforting, if not sutistying, and loosened my . tongue: (“;ur;e,uyou know my heart ig gull of love Ot VALl the universe crumbl @ most provokin, Now that sentence was mny serk abaty; whenever I tried to give Jane some fdea of the state of my affections. It was a part of speech which I had preparea and delivered to Mary in Jane's hearing, as you already know. I had sald to the Princess: “The universe will crumble and the heavens roll up as a scroll ere my love shall aiter or pale. It was a high-sounding sentence, but it was not true, as I was forced to admit, almost with the same breath that spoke it. Jane had heard it and stored it away in that memory of hers, so tenacfous in holding to everything it should forget. It is wons derful what a fund of useless Information some persons accumulaté and cling to with a persistent determination worthy of a better cause. I thought Jane never would forget that unfortunate, abomin- able sentence spoken so frandiloquenty to Mary. I wonder what she would have thought had she known that I had said THE SUNDAY CALL substantially the same thing to a dozen others. | never should have won her in that case. dhe dues not Know it ye, and never shall if 1 can prevent. A.tuough veal Jane is old uuw, and the tuses un itr elicens hdve 10ng since pated, her gray eyes are still there, With TNeir Musci.cv- ous liite twinkie upon occasion, and—in lict, galie can be as rrovoKing as ever when she takes the fancy, for she is as sute of my affection now as upon_ the raorning of that rare ride (o windsor. Aye, surer, since she knows that in all tuese yeurs it has changed oniy to grow greater and stronger and truer in the siuciaying light of her sweet face, and Ui nurturing warmtih of her pure soul. Wiat a b -u thiug it is for a man to love [us wae and be satisfied with her, ana to thunk her the fairest being In ail the worid; and how thrice happy is he who can stretch out the sweetest season oi his existence, the days of triumphant courtship, through the flying years of all Lis life, and then lle down to die in the Guiet eéstasy of a first love. So_Jaiie halted my effort to pour out my heart, as she always did. ““There ¢ something that greatly trou- bles me,” she sald. “What s it?” 1 asked cern. “My mistress,” she answered, nodding in the direction of the two riding ahead of us. I never saw her so much interested in apy one as she is in your friend, Mas- ter Brandon. Not that she is really in love with him as vet perhaps, but I fear it 18 comirg and dread to see it. She has never been compelied to forego auything she wanted. and her desires are abso- lutely imperative. They drive her, and she Is helpless agalnst them. She would not and could not make the smallest ef- fort to,overcome them. 1 think it never occurred to her that such a thing could be necessary; everything she wants she naturally thinks is hers by divine right. There has been no_ great need of such an effort until now, but your Yriend Bran- don presents it. I wish he were at the other side of the world. I think she feels that she ought te k”.‘,’ 2way from him before it is too late. bot! tor his sake and her own, but she is powerless to deny herself the pleasure of being with him, and I du not know what is to come of it all. That incident of the loose girth is an illustration. Did you ever Know anything so bold and trans- pard4nt? Any one could see through it, and the worst of it Is she seems not to care if every one does sen Now look at them ahead of us! No girl is so happy riding beside a man unless she Is inter- ested fn him. She was dull enough until he joined her. He seemed in no hurry fo come, 80 she resorted to the Mmsy exc of the loose girth to bring him. I am su; prised that she even sought the shadow of an excuse, but did nou order him fo; ward without any pretense of one. Ol I don’t know what to do. It troubles me greatl Do you know the state of his feelings?" o, 1 answered, in some con- “but 1 think he is so. He told me he was not fool enough to fall in love with the King's sister, and 1 really belleve he will keep his heart and head, even at that dizzy height. He is a cool fellow, if there ever was one. “He is certainly different from other men,” returned Jane. “I think he has never spoken a word of love to her. He has said some pretty things, which she has repeated to me: has moralized to some extent, and has actually told her of some of her faults. I should like to see any one else take that liberty. She seems 1o Ike it from him. and says he In- spires her with higher, better motives and a yearning to be good; but 1 am sure he has made no love to her.” “Perhaps it would be better if he did. It might cure her,” I replied. “Oh! no! no! not now; at first, per- haps, but not now. What I fear is thal if he remains silent much longer she will take matters in hand and speak herself. 1 don’t like to say that—It doesn’t sound well—but she is a Princess, and it would be gifferent than with an ordinary g.rl; she might have to speak first, or there might be no speaking from one who thought his position too far beneath hers. She whose smallest desires drive her so, wiil never forego so great a thing as the man she loves only for the want of a word or two.” ¥ Then It was that Jane told me of the Scene with the mote; of the little whis- pered confidence upon their pillows, and a hundred other straws that showed only too plainly which way this worst of fil winds was blowing—with no good In it for any one. Now who could have fore- told this? It was easy enough to pro- phesy that Brandon would learn to love Mary, excite a passing interest, and come off crestfallen, as ail other men had done. But that Mary should love Bran- don, and he remain heart-whole, was an uniooked-for event—one that would hard- )v have been predicted by the shrewdest prophet. What Lady Jane sald troubled me greatly, as it was but the confirmation of my own fears. Her opportunity to know was far better than mine, but I had seen enough to set me thinking. Brandon, I belleve, saw nothing of Mary's growing partfality at all. He could not help but find her wonderfully attractive and interesting, and perhaps it needed oniy the thought that she might love him. io kindle a flame in his own breast. But at the time of our ride to Windsor, Charles Brandon was not in iove with Mary Tudor, however near it he may unconsciously have been. He wou'd whistle and sing, and was as light- hearted as a lark—] mean when away from the Princess as well as with her— a mood that does not go with a heart full of heavy love. of impossible. fatal love, such as his would have been for the first Princess of the first blood royal of the world. . But another’'s trouble could not dim the sunlight in my own heart, and that ride to Windsor was the happiest day of my Jife up to that time. Even Jane threw off the little cloud our forebodings had gathered, and chatted and laughed like the creature of joy and gladness she was. Now and then her heart would well up s9 full of the sunlight and the flowers. and the birds in the hedge, aye, and of the contagious love in my heart, too, that it poured ftself forth in a spontaneous little song which thrills me even now. Ahead of us were the Princess and Brandon. Every now and then her voice came back to us in a stave of a song, and her laughter, rich and low, wafted oh the wings of the soft south wind. made the lad birds hush to catch its silvery note. ft seemed that the wild flowers had taken on_thelr brightest hue, the trees their richest Sabbath-day greer and the sun his softest radiance, only to gladden the heart of Mary that they might hear her laugh. The luush would have come quite 2s joyously had the flowers been dead and the sun black, for flowers and sun- 1ight, south wind, green pastures and ver- dant hills, all were riding by her side. Poor Mary! Her days of laughter were numbered. We all rode merrily on to Windsor, and when we arrived it was curifous to see the great nobles, Buckingham both the Howards, S8eymour and a dozen others stand back for plain Charles Brandon to dismount the fafrest maiden and the most renowned Princess in Christendom. It was done most gracefully. She was but a trifle to his strong arms, and he lifted her to the sod as gently as if she were a child. The nobles envied Brandon his evi- dent favor with this unattainable Mary and hated him accordingly, but they kept their thoughts to themselves for two rea- sons: First, they knew not to what de- gree the King's favor, already marked, with the help of the Princess might carry him; and second, they did not care to have a misunderstan it with the man who had cut out Adam Judson’s eyes. We remained at Windsor four or five days, during which time the King made several Knights. Brandon would proba- bly have been one of them, as everybody expected. had not Buckingham related to Henry the episode of the loose girth. and adromf poisoned his mind as to Mary's partiality. At this the King began to cast a jealous ei'a on Brandon. His sis- ter was his chief diplomatic resource, and when she loved or married. it should be for Henry's benefit, regardless of all else, Brandon and Ladx ary saw a great deal of each other during 'this little stay at Windsor, as she always had some plan to bring about a meeting, and although Very delightful to him, It cost him much in royal favor. He could not trace this effect to its proper cause and it troubled him. 1 could have told him in two words, but I feared to put into his mind the thought that the Princess m ght leasn t6 love him. As to the King, he 'wnu." ot have cared if Brandon or every ma s that matter, should go stark mad for love of his sister, but when she began to Show a preference be grew interested. anf i was apt sooner or later to go hard ol 4 the fortunate one. When we Went bE o to Greenwich Brandon was sent on a day zhead. \ CHAPTER VIL LOVE'S FIERCE SWEETNESS. After we had all returned to Greenw;‘ch the Princess and Brandon were toget }:: frequently. Upen several occasions “ was invited, with others. to her parior or card playing. But we spent two evenings with only four of us present prior to the disastrous events which changed every- thing. and of which I am soon to tell you. During these two evenings the “Sallor Lass” was constant demand. This palr, who should have rrml‘n'e‘d apart, met constantly in and about the palace, and every glance added fuel to the flame. ' Part of the time it was the Prins cess with her troublesome d((ni(iv .I'\Ifl part of the time it was Mary—simp'y ldl'- Notwithstanding these haugl moaods, any one with half an eve could see that the Princess was gradually succumbing to the budding woman: that Hrandon's stronger nature had dominated her with that half fear which every woman feels who loves a strong man—stronger than be f, One day the rumor spread through the court that the old French King. Louls XII, whose wife Anne of Brit:any, had just' dled, had asked Mary's hand in mar- riage. it was this, probably, which opened Brandon's eves to the fact that he had been playing with the very worst sort of fire: and first made him see that in spite of himself, and almost without his knowledge, the girl had grown wonder- fully sweet and deae to him. He now saw his danger, and struggled to keep himself beyvond the spell of her perilous glances and siren song. This modern Ulysses made a masterful effort, but alas! had no ships to carry him away and no wax with which to fili his ears. Wax 1s a good thing, and no one should enter the Siren country without it. Ships. too, are good. with masts to tie one's seif to. and sails and rudder, and a gust of wind to waft one quickly past the island. In fact, one can not take too many precautions when in_those enchanted waters. Matters began to look dark to me. Love had dawned in Mary's breast, that was eure, and for the first time, with all fts flerce sweetness. Not that it had reached its noon, or anything lke it. In truth, it might, I hoped. die In the dawning, for my lady was as capricious as a May day; but it was love—love as plain as the sun at rising. She sought Brandon upon all occasions, And made opportunities to meet him; not’ openly—at any rate, not with Brandon's knowledge, nor with any con- nivance on his part ‘but apparently car; ing little what he or any one else might see. Love lying in her heart had made her a little more shy than formerly in seeking him. but her straightforward way of taking whatever she wanted made her transparent little attempts at conceaiment very pathetic. As for Brandon, the shaft had\entered his heart. too, poor fellow, as surely as Jove had dawned in Mary's. but there wa this difference: With “our Princess— least T so thought at the time—the sun of love might dawn and lift itself to mid- heaven and glow with the fervent ardor of high noon—for her blood was warm with the spark of her grandfather’s fire— and then sink iInto the west and make room for another sun to-morrow. But with Brandon's stronger nature the sun would go till noon and there would burn for life. The sun, however, had not reached its noon with Brandon, either, since he had set his brain against his heart, and had done what he could to stay the all- consuming orb at its dawning. He knew the hopeless misery such a passion would bring him, and helped the good Lord. 12 so far as he could, to answer his prayer and lead him nct into tempta- tion. As soon as he saw th. truth he avoided Mary as much as possible. As I said, we had spent several even- ings with Mary after we had come homs from Windsor, at all of which her pref- ercnce was shown in every movement. Some women are so expressive under strong emotion that every gesture, a turn of the head, a glance of the eves, the lifting of a hand or poise of the body, epeaks with a tongue of eloquence, and such was Mary. er eyes would glow with a soft fire when they rested upon him, and her whole person told all tao plainly what in truth it seemed she did not care to hide. When others were pres- ent she would restraln hersell somewhat, but only with Jane and myself she could hardly maintain a_seemly reserve. Dur- ing all this time Brandon remained cool and really seemed unconscious of his wonderful attraction for her. It is hard to understand why he did not see it. but T really believe he did not. Although he was quite at ease in her presence - too much so, Mary sometimes thought— and strangely enough sometimes told him in a fit of short-lived, quickly renent- ed anger that alwayvs set him laughing, yet there was never a word or gesture that could hint of undue familiarity. Tt would have probably met a rebuff from the princess part of her: for with a perver- sity, both royal and feminine. she want- ed all the freedom for herself. In short, 1iké any other woman, she would rather love than be loved, that is, until sur- render day should come; then of course— Afier these two last meetings, although the invitations came frequently, none was accepted. Brandon had conttived to have his duties, ostensibly, at least, occupy his cvenings, and did honestly what his judgment told him was the one thing to do: that is, remalned away from a fire that could give no genial warmth, but was sure to burn him to the quick. 1 saw this only too plainly, but never a word of it was spoken between us. The more I saw of this man the more I respected him; and this curbing of his affections added’ to my already high es- teem. The effort was doubly wise in Brandon’s case. Should love with his intense nature reach its height his reck- lessness would in turn assert itself, and these two would Inevitably try to span the impassable gulf between them, when Brandon, at least, would go down In the attempt.” His trouble, however, did not make a mope of him, and he retained a great deal of his brightness and sparkle undimmed by what must have been an ache In his heart. Though he tried with- out making it too marked, to see as lit- tle of Mary as possible, their meetin once in & while could not bs avoided especially when one of them was al- ways seeking to bring it about. After a time Mary began to suspect his attempts to avold her, and she grew cold and dls- tant through pique. Her manner, how- ever, had no effect upon Brandon, who did not, or at least appeared not, to no- tlco it." This the girl could not endure, and lacking strength to resist her heart soon returned to the attack. Mary had not seen Brandon for nearly two weeks, and was growing anxious, hen one day she and Jane met him in a forest walk near the river. Brandon was sauntering along reading when they overtook him. Jane told me afterward that Mary's conduct upon coming up to him was pretty and curfous beyond the naming. At first she was inclined to ba dfstant and say cutting things, but when Brandon began to grow restive under them and showed signs of turning back she changed front in the twinkling of an eve and was all sweetness. She laughed and smiled and dimpled as only " she could, and was full of bright glances and gracious words. : She tried a hundred little schemes to gex him to herself for a moment—the unting of a wild flower or a four-leaved clover, or the exploration of some little nook In the forast toward which she would lead him—but Jane did not at first take the hint. and kept close at her heels. Mary's impulsive nature was not much given to hintine—she usually nodded and most__emphatically at that—so after a few faflures to rid herself of her wal ing lady she said impatient'y: ‘“Jape, in the name of heaven don't .keep so close to us. You won't move out of reach of my hand, and you know how often It inclines to box your ears!” Jane did know, T am sorry for Mary's sake to say, how often the fair hand spasms: so she walk ind.gnity p at her whim to_such hint was given emphasized half sul and half an d lcst no but began time, . s.r. I want you to tell the truth: Why do you refuse my invita- tlons and so persistently keep away from me? & .hoight at 1 womd sunp.y iet You go your way. and then I thous 1-1 weuld nct. Don't deny it &Ny you won't. With all your faulis you d teil even I'ttie l es; not even to a W —1 believe. Now there is a fine com when I in 3 She gave a fluttering lit and, with kanging head, continu me, is not the Wings s sier sutfictent to suit you' Perhay bave the Queen or the Ble Tell me now?" And she look { in banter, half in donbt My duiles “Oh * began Era bother your duties truth “1 will If you let me. don, who had.no intenti doing anything of ti ¢ sccupy m That wil not who knew enough o to be sure it was 1 might as well come hat you d And she gave him returned whate name, l.ac . ered Bran the rack. ‘Piease do cannot: bear to have vou wher It fs so far from fhe real “Then tell me the real truth “I cannot: I cannot. I beg of you t Leave me or let me leave you answer further.” The latter of this sentence was uttered dog- gedly and sounded sullen and {ll-humored, although, of course, it was intend- ed. He had been perilously near speai- ing words which would probably have lighted td their destruction—to his, cer- tainly—the smoldering flames within their breast that It frightened him, and the manner In which he spoke was but a tone giving utterance to the pain In his heart Mary took It as unfeigned surprise, “Leave you? o 1 hear aright? I thought that I, the daughter and of a King, would have to be dismissed by a—by a—by any one.” “Your Highness—'" began Brandon; but she was gone before he could speak. He did not follow her to explain, know- ing how dangerous such an explanation would be, but felt that 't was best for them both that she should remain of- fended, painful as the thought was to im Of course, Mary’'s womanly self-es- teem, to say nothing of her royal pride, ;\'l! wounded to the quick, and no won- er. Poor Brandon sat down upon a stone, and as he longingly watched her retir- ing form wished in his heart he dead. This was the first time he really knew how much he loved he saw that, with him at least, a matter of bad to worse; and at rate would soon be—worst Now that he had unintentionally of- fended her, and permitted her to go without an explanation, she was dearer to him than ever, and as he sat thers with his face in his hands he knew that if matters went on as they were going the time would soon come when he would throw caution to the dogs and would try the impossible—to win her for his own. Caution and judgment still sat en- throned, and they told him now what he knew full well they would not tell him after a short time—that fallure was certain to follow the attempt, and dis- aster sure to follow faflure. First, the King would, in all probability, cut off his head upon an Intimation of Mary's pos- sible fondness for him; and, second, if he should be so fortunate as to keep his head, Mary could not, and certainly would not, marry him, even if she loved him with all her heart. The distance be- tween them was too grcat, and she knew too well what she owed to her position. There was but one thing left—New Spain; and he determined while sitting there to sail with the next ship. The real cause of Brandon's manner had never occurred to Mary. Although she knew her beauty and pcwer, as she could not help but know it—not as a matter of vanity, but as a matter of fact —yet love had blinded her where Bran- don was concerned, and that knowledgs Tailed to give her light as to his motives, however brightly it might lllumine the conduct of other men toward whom she was ln;hfl‘erom So Mary was angry this time—an in earnest, and Jane felt the Irriiable palm more than once. I, too, came In for my share of her {il temper, as most certainly would Brandon had he allow- ed himself to come within reach of her 1e, ch he was careful not to do. porcupine would have been company compared with Mary this time. There was no living Even the King fought it sounded, and, In exclaimed angrily ever angry nt during with her in peace. sy of her, and the Queen was almost afraide. to sgenk. Probably so much gen- eral disturbance was never befors nor since collected within one small body as in tkat young Tartar-Venus, Mary. She did not tell Jane the cause of her vexa- tion. but only sald she ‘“verlly hated Brandon,” and that, of course, was the key to the whole situation. After a fortnight this il humor began to soften in the glowing warmth of her heart, which was striving to reassert ltaelf; and the desire to ses Brandon be- san to ge e better of her s BE. sense of Brandon, tired of this everlasting watchfulness to keep himself out of temptation, and dreading at any moment that lapse of strength which Is apt - to come to the strongest of us, had re- solved to quit his place at court and g0 to New Spain at once. He had learn. ed, upon inquiry, that a ship would sail from Bristol in about twenty days, and another six weeks later. So he chose the former and was making his arrange. ments to leave as soon as possible. He told me of his plans and spoke of his situation. “You know the reason for my going,” he sald, “even if I have never spoken of it. I am not much of & Joseph, and T am very little given to running away from a guuutul ‘woman, but in this cass I am fleeing from deatn itself. And to think what a heaven it ‘would be! You are right H man can withstand the light of that girl's how I feel smile. I am unable to tell toward her. It sometimes seems that I cannot live another hour without see- ing her; yet, thank God, I have reason enough left to know that every sight of her only adds to an already incurabl :;llad}'i V'Vh&l v;({,ll 1t en she i e wife of the of France? Does it not look as 1t wild 1f 1s my only chance?” = T et I assented We joined hands, ana molst shouid miss Bim more toan ‘way suy else in all the earth—e: mental reservation, AR S I told Jane what Brand to do, knowing full well sl Mary. which she did at once. Poor Mary! The sighs began to come now, and such small vestiges of her i humor toward Brandon as still remained Teore frightened off in a hurry by the r that she She jakg®he had seen the last of Aim. she loved him, the most delightf: ever met. an companion she had Jot there was an exhil- presence which almost and made life an e stasy, yet she It needed but t about to lose him to make h malady and meet it face to efr ::nw - Upon the evening when Mary learned e thought that she w: all this she went into her carly and closed the door. terrupted her until Jane wen: her for the night and to then found that Mary had r and was lying in bed with h. ered. apparentiy asleep. Jane quietly prepared to retire, own Bes. re, and lay down in her chamber very No one in- t in to robe retire, Continued Next Week.