Her pathetic, soul-charged appeal might have softened the heart of Caligula himself; but Henry was not even cruel.  He was simply an animal so absorbed in himself that he could not feel for others.

“Oh! it is out at last,” he said, with a laugh.  “I thought all this sweetness must have been for something.  So the lady wants her Brandon, and doesn’t want her Louis, yet is willing to obey her dear, kind brother?  Well, we’ll take her at her word and let her obey.  You may as well understand, once and for all, that you are to go to France.  You promised to go decently if I would not cut off that fellow’s head, and now I tell you that if I hear another whimper from you off it comes, and you will go to France, too.”

This brought Mary to terms quickly enough.  It touched her one vulnerable spot—­her love.

“I will go; I promise it again.  You shall never hear another word of complaint from me if you give me your royal word that no harm shall come to him—­to him,” and she put her hands over her face to conceal her tears as she softly wept.

“The day you sail for France, Brandon shall go free and shall again have his old post at court.  I like the fellow as a good companion, and really believe you are more to blame than he.”

“I am all to blame, and am ready this day to pay the penalty.  I am at your disposal to go when and where you choose,” answered Mary, most pathetically.

Poor, fair Proserpina, with no kind mother Demeter to help her.  The ground will soon open, and Pluto will have his bride.

That evening Cavendish took me aside and said his master, Wolsey, wished to speak to me privately at a convenient opportunity.  So, when the bishop left his card-table, an hour later, I threw myself in his way.  He spoke gayly to me, and we walked down the corridor arm in arm.  I could not imagine what was wanted, but presently it came out:  “My dear Caskoden”—­had I been one for whom he could have had any use, I should have grown suspicious—­“My dear Caskoden, I know I can trust you; especially when that which I have to say is for the happiness of your friends.  I am sure you will never name me in connection with the suggestion I am about to make, and will use the thought only as your own.”

I did not know what was coming, but gave him the strongest assurance of my trustworthiness.

“It is this:  Louis of France is little better than a dead man.  King Henry, perhaps, is not fully aware of this, and, if he is, he has never considered the probability of his speedy death.  The thought occurred to me that although the princess cannot dissuade her brother from this marriage, she may be able, in view of her ready and cheerful compliance, to extract some virtue out of her sore necessity and induce him to promise that, in case of the death of Louis, she herself shall choose her second husband.”

“My lord,” I replied, quickly grasping the point, “it is small wonder you rule this land.  You have both brain and heart.”