his marriage, and I am certain he will not refuse you,
for he is prudent and cautious, and will, better than I, calculate the
advantages which a connection with the Seymours may yield our family. Do
that, sister, and marry your dearly beloved. I do not hinder you."

"Yes, you do hinder me--you alone!" cried his sister, flaming with
wrath. "You will refuse Margaret's hand; you will give the Seymours
mortal offence. You thereby make my union with Thomas Seymour
impossible! In the proud selfishness of your haughtiness, you see not
that you are dashing to atoms my happiness, while you are thinking only
of your desire to offend the Seymours. But I tell you, I love Thomas
Seymour--nay, I adore him. He is my happiness, my future, my eternal
bliss. Therefore have pity on me, Henry! Grant me this happiness, which
I implore you for as Heaven's blessing. Prove to me that you love me,
and are willing to make this sacrifice for me. Henry, on my knees,
I conjure you! Give me the man I love; bend your proud head; become
Margaret Seymour's husband, that Thomas Seymour may become mine."

She had actually sunk upon her knees; and her face deluged with
tears, bewitchingly beautiful in her passionate emotion, she looked up
imploringly to her brother.

But the earl did not lift her up; on the contrary, with a smile, he fell
back a step. "How long is it now, duchess," asked he, mockingly, "since
you swore that your secretary, Mr. Wilford, was the man whom you loved?
Positively, I believed you--I believed it till I one day found you in
the arms of your page. On that day, I swore to myself never to believe
you again, though you vowed to me, with an oath ever so sacred, that
you loved a man. Well, now, you love a man; but what one, is a matter of
indifference. To-day his name is Thomas, tomorrow Archibald, or Edward
as you please!"

For the first time the earl drew the veil away from his heart, and let
his sister see all the contempt and anger that he felt toward her.

The duchess also felt wounded by his words, as by a red-hot iron.

She sprang from her knees; and with flurried breath, with looks flashing
with rage, every muscle of her countenance convulsed and trembling,
there she stood before her brother. She was a woman no more; she was a
lioness, that, without compassion or pity, will devour him who has dared
irritate her.

"Earl of Surrey, you are a shameless wretch!" said she, with compressed,
quivering lips. "Were I a man, I woul