r Nicholas Fleming--surely I have
heard his name spoken, as of a good friend to the Holy Father and not
too anxious for the Emperor's marriage with Mary Tudor?"
The Commissioner started in his chair, while she turned serenely upon
his companion. "And Master Porson," she continued, "as a faithful
servant of His Majesty of Portugal will needs be glad to see a princess
of Portugal take Mary Tudor's place. Eh?"--for they were eyeing each
the other like two detected schoolboys--"It would seem, sirs, that
though you came together, you were better friends than you guessed.
Glance your eye, Master Porson, over this paper which I shall presently
entrust to you for furtherance; and you will agree with Sir Nicholas
that the prudent course for both of you is to forget, on leaving this
house, that any such person as I was on board the _Saint Andrew._"

The two peered into the parchment and drew back. "The Emperor--" I
heard the Commissioner mutter with an intake of breath.

"And, as you perceive, in his own handwriting." She folded up the paper
and, replacing it, addressed my Master. "Your visitors, sir, deserve
some refreshment for their pains and courtesy."

And that was the end of the conference. What that paper contained I
know as little as I know by what infernal sorcery it was prepared.
Master Porson folded it up tight in his hand, glancing dubiously at Sir
Nicholas. My lady stood smiling upon the both for a moment, then
dismissed me to the kitchens upon a pretended errand. They were gone
when I returned, nor did I again set eyes upon the Commissioner or the
factor. It is true that the Emperor did about this time break his
pledge with our King Henry and marry a princess of Portugal; and some of
high office in England were not sorry therefore. But of this enough.

As the days wore on and we heard no more of the wreck, my Master and
Mistress settled down to that retirement from the world which is by
custom allowed to the newly married, but which with them was to last to
the end. A life of love it was; but--God help us!--no life of
happiness; rather, in process of days, a life of torment. Can I tell
you how it was? At first to see them together was like looking through
a glass upon a picture; a picture gallant and beautiful yet removed
behind a screen and not of this world. Suppose now that by little and
little the glass began to be flawed, or the picture behind it to crumble
(you could not tell which) until wh