awing to a close. Of all Queen Jane's Council only two men,
Archbishop Cranmer and her own father, remained true to her--all the
others having decided to save their own heads by betraying the cause of
that girl to whom nine days before they had pledged undying loyalty. On
Wednesday, the nineteenth, the short reign ended. "Jane the Queen"
became "_Jana non Regina_," and although that morning there was a slight
flicker of interest shown in her cause, yet the conspirators against
her, that evening proclaimed Mary queen in Cheapside, at the very hour
at which only nine days before Jane's accession had been proclaimed!

The people now realised that they had nothing to fear from Jane or her
Council, whose power was broken, and at once gave public vent to their
enthusiasm for Mary, indulging in one of those attacks of frenzied
excitement which sometimes seizes a nation,--and everywhere there were
merry-makings and rejoicings for her Catholic Majesty--except within the
Tower, where the stillness of death reigned.

Northumberland's plan had failed, and of those councillors who had
pledged their support to Jane's cause, but one remained loyal besides
her own father!

Archbishop Cranmer was the last of Jane's Council then living in the
Tower to leave it, and the leave-taking was a sad one on both sides, for
it left Lady Jane alone to meet the sad events then coming thick and
fast, with what courage she could summon.

Presently a messenger came to Suffolk, from Baynard's Castle, to tell
him that the nobles gathered together there required him to deliver up
the Tower and go to the Castle to sign Mary's proclamation, and without
a moment's hesitation the wretched man gave up the unequal struggle, and
did as he was commanded. Then he returned to the Tower to tell Jane that
her queenship was a thing of the past, although there was little need to
report so evident a fact.

With nervous excitement he rushed into the Council chamber, where he
found Jane alone, seated in forlorn dejection under the canopy of State.

"Come down from that, my child," he said. "That is no place for you,"
and then more gently than he had ever spoken to her before, he told her
all. For a moment there was silence while daughter and father stood
clasped in each other's arms in the deserted hall, through the open
windows of which could be heard, borne on the summer air, shouts of
"Long live Queen Mary!" There was a long silence, then Jane looked up
into her