therine had all the piety on her own side, but
she had not to bear the penalty she had brought on herself long. She
left behind her a baby daughter, Mary Seymour, who was sent to the care
of the Duchess of Suffolk; for very soon after the Queen's death,
Seymour was arrested and committed to the Tower. He died on Tower Hill,
on the 20th of March following. That Seymour was a bad man there can be
no question; whether he really were a traitor is much more doubtful.
The Lutheran party accused his brother the Protector of having brought
about his death. It might be so; yet any evidence beyond probability
and declamation is lacking. "It was Somerset's interest to get rid of
his brother; therefore he is responsible for his death." This may be
assertion, but it surely is not argument.

Meanwhile in high places there was a leaven quietly working, unperceived
as yet, which was ere long to pervade the whole mass. The government of
Edward the Sixth had come into power under the colours of the Gospel.
The Protector himself was an uncompromising Gospeller; and though many
Lords of the Council were Lutherans, they followed at first in his wake.
There was one member of the Council who never did so.

Nearly fifty years before that day, Henry the Seventh, whose
"king-craft" was at least equal to that of James the First, had
compelled the young heiress of Lisle, Elizabeth Grey, to bestow her hand
upon his unworthy favourite, Edmund Dudley. It is doubtful whether she
was not even then affianced to Sir Arthur Plantagenet (afterwards Lord
Lisle), whose first wife she eventually became; but Henry Tudor would
have violated all the traditions of his house, had he hesitated to
degrade the estate, or grieve the heart, of a son of the House of York.
This ill-matched pair--the covetous Edmund and the gentle Elizabeth--
were the parents of four children: the first being John Dudley, who was
born in 1502. It is of him I am about to speak.

His countenance, from a physiognomist's point of view, might be held to
announce his character. The thick, obstinate lips, the cruel, cold blue
eyes, intimated with sufficient accuracy the disposition of the man.
Like all men who succeed, Dudley set before him one single aim. In his
case, it was to dethrone Somerset, and step into his place. He held,
too, in practice if not in theory, the diabolical idea, that the end
sanctifies the means. And to hold that view is to say, in another form,
"I will be