the death of your husband, then even, did you never love?"

He gazed with visible anxiety, with breathless expectation, deep into
her eyes; but she did not drop them.

"Sire," said she, with a charming smile, "till a few weeks past, I
have often mourned over myself; and it seemed to me that I must, in the
desperation of my singular and cold nature, lay open my breast, in order
to search there for the heart, which, senseless and cold, had never
betrayed its existence by its stronger beating. Oh, sire, I was full of
trouble about myself; and in my foolish rashness, I accused Heaven of
having robbed me of the noblest feeling and the fairest privilege of any
woman--the capacity of loving."

"Till the past few weeks, did you say, Kate?" asked the king, breathless
with emotion.

"Yes, sire, until the day on which you, for the first time, graciously
afforded me the happiness of speaking with me."

The king uttered a low cry, and drew Catharine, with impetuous
vehemence, into his arms.

"And since, tell me now, you dear little dove, since then, does your
heart throb?"

"Yes, sire, it throbs, oh, it often throbs to bursting! When I hear your
voice, when I behold your countenance, it is as if a cold tremor rilled
through my whole being, and drove all my blood to the heart. It is as
though my heart anticipated your approach before my eyes discern you.
For even before you draw near me, I feel a peculiar trembling of the
heart, and the breath is stifled in my bosom; then I always know that
you are coming, and that your presence will relieve this peculiar
tension of my being. When you are not by me I think of you, and when I
sleep I dream of you. Tell me, sire, you who know every thing, tell me,
know you now whether I love you?"

"Yes, yes, you love me," cried Henry, to whom this strange and joyous
surprise had imparted youthful vivacity and warmth. "Yes, Kate, you
love me; and if I may trust your dear confession, I am your first love.
Repeat it yet again; you were nothing but a daughter to Lord Neville?"

"Nothing more, sire!"

"And after him have you had no love?"

"None, sire!"

"And can it be that so happy a marvel has come to pass? and that I have
made, not a widow, but a young maiden, my queen?"

As he now gazed at her with warm, passionate, tender looks, Catharine
cast down her eyes, and a deep blush covered her sweet face.

"Ah, a woman's bashful blushes, what an exquisite sight!" cried the
king, and while