the tree, while a tall, gaunt figure,
crested with an antlered helm, sprang from it. At the same moment a
swarm of horribly grotesque, swart objects, looking like imps, appeared
amid the branches of the tree, and grinned and gesticulated at Wyat,
whose courage remained unshaken during the fearful ordeal. Not so his
steed. After rearing and plunging violently, the affrighted animal broke
its hold and darted off into the swamp, where it floundered and was
lost.

"You have called me, Sir Thomas Wyat," said the demon, in a sepulchral
tone. "I am here. What would you?"

"My name being known to you, spirit of darkness, my errand should be
also," replied Wyat boldly.

"Your errand is known to me," replied the demon. "You have lost a
mistress, and would regain her?"

"I would give my soul to win her back from my kingly rival," cried Wyat.

"I accept your offer," rejoined the spirit. "Anne Boleyn shall be yours.
Your hand upon the compact."

Wyat stretched forth his hand, and grasped that of the demon.

His fingers were compressed as if by a vice, and he felt himself dragged
towards the tree, while a stifling and sulphurous vapour rose around
him. A black veil fell over his head, and was rapidly twined around his
brow in thick folds.

Amid yells of fiendish laughter he was then lifted from the ground,
thrust into the hollow of the tree, and thence, as it seemed to him,
conveyed into a deep subterranean cave.

II.

In what manner Wolsey put his Scheme into Operation.

Foiled in his scheme of making Wyat the instrument of Anne Boleyn's
overthrow, Wolsey determined to put into immediate operation the plan
he had conceived of bringing forward a rival to her with the king. If a
choice had been allowed him, he would have selected some high-born dame
for the purpose; but as this was out of the question--and as, indeed,
Henry had of late proved insensible to the attractions of all the
beauties that crowded his court except Anne Boleyn--he trusted to the
forester's fair granddaughter to accomplish his object. The source
whence he had received intelligence of the king's admiration of Mabel
Lyndwood was his jester, Patch--a shrewd varlet who, under the mask
of folly, picked up many an important secret for his master, and was
proportionately rewarded.

Before executing the scheme, it was necessary to ascertain whether the
damsel's beauty was as extraordinary as it had been represented; and
with this view, Wolse