two of the servants were
obstructing the passage of the pursuivants.

When at last the door flew in, there was a fire cracking furiously on the
hearth, and a magnificently dressed lady kneeling before it, crushing
paper into the flames. Half a dozen men now streamed in and more began to
follow, and stood irresolute for a moment, staring at her. From the
resistance they had met with they had been certain that the priest was
here, and this sight perplexed them. A big ruddy man, however, who led
them, sprang across the room, seized Mary Corbet by the shoulders and
whisked her away against the wall, and then dashed the half-burnt paper
out of the grate and began to beat out the flames.

Mary struggled violently for a moment; but the others were upon her and
held her, and she presently stood quiet. Then she began upon them.

"You insolent hounds!" she cried, "do you know who I am?" Her cheeks were
scarlet and her eyes blazing; she seemed in a superb fury.

"Burning treasonable papers," growled the big man from his knees on the
hearth, "that is enough for me."

"Who are you, sir, that dare to speak to me like that?"

The man got up; the flames were out now, and he slipped the papers into a
pocket. Mary went on immediately.

"If I may not burn my own lute music, or keep my door locked, without a
riotous mob of knaves breaking upon me---- Ah! how dare you?" and she
stamped furiously.

The pursuivant came up close to her, insolently.

"See here, my lady----" he began.

The men had fallen back from her a little now that the papers were safe,
and she lifted her ringed hand and struck his ruddy face with all her
might. There was a moment of confusion and laughter as he recoiled.

"Now will you remember that her Grace's ladies are not to be trifled
with?"

There was a murmur from the crowded room, and a voice near the door
cried:

"She says truth, Mr. Nichol. It is Mistress Corbet."

Nichol had recovered himself, but was furiously angry.

"Very good, madam, but I have these papers now," he said, "they can still
be read."

"You blind idiot," hissed Mary, "do you not know lute music when you see
it?"

"I know that ladies do not burn lute music with locked doors," observed
Nichol bitterly.

"The more fool you!" screamed Mary, "when you have caught one at it."

"That will be seen," sneered Mr. Nichol.

"Not by a damned blind scarlet-faced porpoise!" screamed Mary, apparently
more in a passion than ever, and a b