Now it was that the lawyer-knight earned his bread by his wits, for it
was he, I know, who instigated the next move--a master stroke in its
way, and one which proved a checkmate to us. It was this: the duke
went at once to the king, and, in a tone of injured innocence, told
him of the charge made by Brandon with Mary's evident approval, and
demanded redress for the slander. Thus it seemed that the strength of
our position was about to be turned against us. Brandon was at once
summoned and promptly appeared before the king, only too anxious to
confront the duke. As to the confinement of Brandon and his secret
trial, the king did not care to hear; that was a matter of no
consequence to him; the important question was, did Buckingham attack
the princess?

Brandon told the whole straight story, exactly as it was, which
Buckingham as promptly denied, and offered to prove by his almoner
that he was at his devotions on the night and at the hour of the
attack. So here was a conflict of evidence which called for new
witnesses, and Henry asked Brandon if the girls had seen and
recognized the duke. To this question, of course, he was compelled to
answer no, and the whole accusation, after all, rested upon Brandon's
word, against which, on the other hand, was the evidence of the Duke
of Buckingham and his convenient almoner.

All this disclosed to the full poor Mary's anxiety to help Brandon,
and the duke having adroitly let out the fact that he had just met the
princess with Brandon at a certain secluded spot in the forest,
Henry's suspicion of her partiality received new force, and he began
to look upon the unfortunate Brandon as a partial cause, at least, of
Mary's aversion to the French marriage.

Henry grew angry and ordered Brandon to leave the court, with the
sullen remark that it was only his services to the Princess Mary that
saved him from a day with papers on the pillory.

This was not by any means what Brandon had expected. There seemed to
be a fatality for him about everything connected with that unfortunate
trip to Grouche's. He had done his duty, and this was his recompense.
Virtue is sometimes a pitiful reward for itself, notwithstanding much
wisdom to the contrary.

Henry was by no means sure that his suspicions concerning Mary's heart
were correct, and in all he had heard he had not one substantial fact
upon which to base conviction. He had not seen her with Brandon since
their avowal, or he would have h