Brandon stopped me.

"No, no; Caskoden, please stay; it would not do. It would be bad
enough, God knows, if the princess should be found here with both of
us; but, with me alone, I should be dead before morning. There is
danger enough as it is, for they will watch us."

Mary knew he was right, but she could not resist a vicious little
glance toward me, who was in no way to blame.

Presently we all moved into the window-way, where Brandon and Mary sat
upon the great cloak and I on a camp-stool in front of them,
completely filling up the little passage.

"I can bear this no longer," exclaimed Mary. "I will go to my brother
to-night and tell him all; I will tell him how I suffer, and that I
shall die if you are allowed to go away and leave me forever. He loves
me, and I can do anything with him when I try. I know I can obtain his
consent to our--our--marriage. He cannot know how I suffer, else he
would not treat me so. I will let him see--I will convince him. I have
in my mind everything I want to say and do. I will sit on his knee and
stroke his hair and kiss him." And she laughed softly as her spirit
revived in the breath of a growing hope. "Then I will tell him how
handsome he is, and how I hear the ladies sighing for him, and he will
come around all right by the third visit. Oh, I know how to do it; I
have done it so often. Never fear! I wish I had gone at it long ago."

Her enthusiastic fever of hope was really contagious, but Brandon,
whose life was at stake, had his wits quickened by the danger.

"Mary, would you like to see me a corpse before to-morrow noon?" he
asked.

"Why! of course not; why do you ask such a dreadful question?"

"Because, if you wish to make sure of it, do what you have just
said--go to the king and tell him all. I doubt if he could wait till
morning. I believe he would awaken me at midnight to put me to sleep
forever--at the end of a rope or on a block pillow."

"Oh! no! you are all wrong; I know what I can do with Henry."

"If that is the case, I say good-bye now, for I shall be out of
England, if possible, by midnight. You must promise me that you will
not only not go to the king at all about this matter, but that you
will guard your tongue, jealous of its slightest word, and remember
with every breath that on your prudence hangs my life, which, I know,
is dear to you. Do you promise? If you do not, I must fly; so you will
lose me one way or the other, if you tell the king; either