“I thank you, Sir Edwin, and hope that both may always be at the service of you and your friends.”

I gave the suggestion to Mary as my own, recommending that she proffer her request to the king in the presence of Wolsey, and, although she had little faith or hope, she determined to try.

Within a day or two an opportunity offered, and she said to Henry:  “I am ready to go to France any time you wish, and shall do it decently and willingly; but if I do so much for you, brother, you might at least promise me that when King Louis is dead I may marry whomsoever I wish.  He will probably live forever, but let me have at least that hope to give me what cheer it may while I suffer.”

The ever-present Wolsey, who was standing near and heard Mary’s petition, interposed:  “Let me add my prayer to that of her highness.  We must give her her own way in something.”

Mary was such a complete picture of wretchedness that I thought at the time she had really found a tender spot in Henry’s heart, for he gave the promise.  Since then I have learned, as you will shortly, that it was given simply to pacify the girl, and without any intention whatever of its being kept; but that, in case of the death of King Louis, Henry intended again to use his sister to his own advantage.

To be a beautiful princess is not to enjoy the bliss some people imagine.  The earth is apt to open at any time, and Pluto to snatch her away to—­the Lord knows where.

Mary again poured out her soul on paper—­a libation intended for Brandon.  I made a dozen attempts, in as many different ways, to deliver her letters, but every effort was a failure, and this missive met the fate of the others.  De Longueville kept close watch on his master’s rival, and complained to Henry about these attempts at communication.  Henry laughed and said he would see that they were stopped, but paid no more attention to the matter.

If Mary, before her interview with Henry, had been averse to the French marriage, she was now equally anxious to hurry it on, and longed to go upon the rack in order that Brandon might be free.  He, of course, objected as strenuously as possible to the purchase of his life by her marriage to Louis, but his better judgment told him—­in fact, had told him from the first—­that she would be compelled eventually to marry the French king, and common sense told him if it must be, she might as well save his life at the same time.  Furthermore, he felt a certain sense of delight in owing his life to her, and knew that the fact that she had saved him—­that her sacrifice had not all been in vain—­would make it easier for her to bear.

The most beautiful feature of the relations between these two lovers was their entire faith in each other.  The way of their true love was at least not roughened by cobble-stones of doubt, however impassable it was from mountains of opposition.

My inability to deliver Mary’s letters did not deter her from writing them; and as she was to be married in a few days—­de Longueville to act as proxy—­she devoted her entire time to her letters, and wrote pages upon pages, which she left with me to be delivered “after death,” as she called her marriage.