king recalled you from the army; but this was done in
order to give you the first place at his court--to appoint you lord
chamberlain to the queen."

Henry Howard trembled and was silent. "It is true," he then muttered; "I
am obliged to the king for this place."

"And then," continued the duchess, with an innocent air, "then I do not
believe either that Lord Hertford is to blame for your recall. To prove
this to you, he has made a proposal to the king, and to me also, which
is to testify to you and to all the world how great an honor Lord
Hertford esteems it to be allied to the Howards, and above all things to
you, by the most sacred bonds."

"Ah, that noble, magnanimous lord!" cried Henry Howard, with a bitter
laugh. "As matters do not advance well with laurels, he tries the
myrtles; since he can win no battles, he wants to make marriages. Now,
sister, let me hear what he has to propose."

"A double marriage, Henry. He asks my hand for his brother Thomas
Seymour, provided you choose his sister, Lady Margaret, for your wife."

"Never!" cried the earl. "Never will Henry Howard present his hand to a
daughter of that house; never condescend so far as to elevate a Seymour
to be his wife. That is well enough for a king--not for a Howard!"

"Brother, you insult the king!"

"Well, I insult him, then! He has insulted me, too, in arranging this
base scheme."

"Brother, reflect; the Seymours are powerful, and stand high in the
king's favor."

"Yes, in the king's favor they stand high! But the people know their
proud, cruel, and arrogant disposition; and the people and nobility
despise them. The Seymours have the voice of the king in their favor;
the Howards the voice of the whole country, and that is of more
consequence. The king can exalt the Seymours, for they stand far beneath
him. He cannot exalt the Howards, for they are his equals. Nor can he
degrade them. Catharine died on the scaffold--the king became thereby
only a hangman--our escutcheon was not sullied by that act!"

"These are very proud words, Henry!"

"They become a son of the Norfolks, Rosabella! Ah, see that petty Lord
Hertford, Earl Seymour. He covets a ducal coronet for his sister. He
wants to give her to me to wife; for as soon as our poor father dies, I
wear his coronet! The arrogant upstarts! For the sister's escutcheon, my
coronet; for the brother's, your coronet. Never, say I, shall that be!"

The duchess had become pale, and a tremor ran thro