t of the
gusty day, her lips parted a little, her eyelids drooping. It behoved
her to move little, for her scarlet dress was very nice in its
equipoise, and fain she was to seem fine in Privy Seal's eyes.

'This King hath a wife to his tail,' Cicely mocked her.

The old knight had recovered his quiet; he had his hand upon his
haunch, and spoke with his air of wisdom:

'I would have you to cease these talkings of dangerous things,' he
said. 'I am Rochford of Bosworth Hedge. I have kept my head and my
lands, and my legs from chains--and how but by leaving to talk of
dangerous things?'

Katharine moved suddenly in her chair. This speech, though she had
heard it a hundred times before, struck her now as so craven that she
forgot alike her desire to keep fine and her friendship for the old
man's new wife.

'Aye, you have been a coward all your life,' she said: for were not
her dear nuns in Lincoln gaol, and this was a knight that should have
redressed wrongs!

Old Rochford smiled with his air of tranquil wisdom and corpulent age.

'I have struck good blows,' he said. 'There have been thirteen ballads
writ of me.'

'You have kept so close a tongue,' Katharine said to him hotly, 'that
I know not what you love. Be you for the old faith, or for this Church
of devils that Cromwell hath set up in the land? Did you love Queen
Katharine or Queen Anne Boleyn? Were you glad when More died, or did
you weep? Are you for the Statute of Users, or would you end it? Are
you for having the Lady Mary called bastard--God pardon me the
word!--or would you defend her with your life?--I do not know. I have
spoken with you many times--but I do not know.'

Old Rochford smiled contentedly.

'I have saved my head and my lands in these perilous times by letting
no man know,' he said.

'Aye,' Katharine met his words with scorn and appeal. 'You have kept
your head on your shoulders and the rent from your lands in your poke.
But oh, sir, it is certain that, being a man, you love either the new
ways or the old; it is certain that, being a spurred knight, you
should love the old ways. Sir, bethink you and take heed of this: that
the angels of God weep above England, that the Mother of God weeps
above England; that the saints of God do weep--and you, a spurred
knight, do wield a good sword. Sir, when you stand before the gates of
Heaven, what shall you answer the warders thereof?'

'Please God,' the old knight answered, 'that I have struck s