halls dismantled, its beautiful chapel unroofed, the windows of the fane rifled of their beryls, and the repose of the dead lying within its walls profaned. Still, though the castle is now but a ruin, and the stars look down into the roofless aisles of the desecrated chapel, enough is left to attest its former grandeur and magnificence; while a glorious western window, with a canopied niche on either side, shows what the chapel must have been when beautified by Lord Seymour.

In this noble castellated mansion, which he maintained with truly baronial splendour, the Admiral passed a certain portion of his time-not inactively, as we have shown. But he had another and yet more important stronghold to which he sometimes repaired, and where his preparations had been made on a still more extensive and formidable scale than at Sudley. This was Holt Castle, in Denbighshire. Built on the banks of the Dee, which offered facilities for the introduction of arms and stores, this second fortress was of great size and strength, pentangular in shape, with a bastion tower on each angle. On all sides, except that of the river, which formed a natural defence, it was surrounded by a broad deep moat, and was approached by a drawbridge, protected by a strong square tower, provided with portcullises, and flanked with machiolated parapets. The possession of such a stronghold as this was of the last importance to Lord Seymour. He kept it in a constant state of defence, garrisoned it with a large number of men, victualled it with wheat, malt, and provisions as if for a long siege, planted ordnance on its walls, and converted it into a complete depository for warlike stores. He was in constant communication with the deputy-governor of the fortress, on whose fidelity he could rely, but he now and then paid it a visit, when least expected, to satisfy himself that all was going on according to his orders. As no events, however, connected with this history occurred at Holt Castle, it will not be necessary to describe it further, and we will, therefore, return to the proud and beautiful castle of Sudley, where a tragical circumstance took place.

Neglected, as we have seen, by her careless and ambitious husband, Queen Catherine Parr passed a life of great seclusion, and Sudley Castle offering her a retreat even more to her taste than the manor-house at Chelsea, she withdrew thither altogether. Removed from the great world in which she had once occupied so exalted a position, she gave herself up entirely to quiet pursuits, to reading, and to the exercises of devotion; and if she was not perfectly happy, at least she was tranquil. It must not, however, be imagined that she led a solitary life. Parsimony formed no part of the Admiral's failings. Though paying his consort little personal attention, he abridged none of her rights, but treated her in every respect like a queen, kept up a household on a perfectly regal scale, had a number of gentlemen to attend

upon her, with pages, ushers, marshals, grooms, and other servitors. She had also her chaplain. Her chief companions were the Lady Jane Grey, for whom she entertained an almost maternal attachment, and Lady Tyrwhyt. The latter had been her attendant during the lifetime of her former husband, King Henry, and had remained with her ever since. Hers was the only bosom into which she could pour her secret sorrows.

Early in the summer of 1548, Queen Catherine proceeded to Sudley Castle, and she remained there until the end of August. Daily expecting to become a mother, her removal, under such circumstances, was out of the question. But she did not even desire to remove. She loved the lordly castle, the woods that sheltered it, the beautiful hills encompassing it, and delighted to wander at morn and eventide by the banks of the Isborne. The Lady Jane Grey had recently left her, having been summoned to Bradgate, but Lady Tyrwhyt was in constant attendance. Catherine, whose love for her husband could be changed by no neglect, persuaded herself that anxiety as to her well-doing would bring the Admiral to Sudley. But in this natural expectation she was doomed to disappointment. He came not. Messengers were despatched to him, but in vain. He did not even write, but sent Ugo Harrington to make his excuses. The queen had fretted so much, and had wrought herself into such a state of anxiety, that her attendants were almost apprehensive of the consequences. They did their best to calm her, but their efforts produced but little effect.

"What message bring'st thou from my lord?" she demanded, as Ugo presented himself before her. "Will he not come?"

"His highness charged me to commend him most tenderly to your majesty," replied Ugo. "Had he been his own master, he would have flown to you on the wings of swiftness, but he is compelled to be in attendance upon his majesty at Windsor."

"That is a mere idle excuse," rejoined Catherine, angrily. "The king would never detain him against his will. There must be some special attraction at Windsor at present. Ha! thou smil'st." "Nay, your highness, I meant nothing if I did."

"Is the Princess Elizabeth at Windsor? No equivocation, fellow. Answer me truly."

"I would rather not answer the question," he rejoined.

"She is, then!" exclaimed the queen, passionately. "This, then, is the reason why he will not come to me. "Oh, Tyrwhyt!" she added, with an hysterical burst of affliction very painful to witness, "I am indeed most miserable."

"A pest on thy tongue, thou false knave!" exclaimed Lady Tyrwhyt to the esquire. "Seest thou not what mischief thou hast done."

"'Twas wholly unintentional on my part," said Ugo, with an appearance of great concern. "I knew not that her highness disliked the Princess Elizabeth."

"Hold thy peace, fellow!" exclaimed the queen. not that detested name again."

"Mention

Upon which, her agitation became yet more violent. She uttered wild shricks; and in this alarming state was borne to her chamber.

"If any calamity happens, as I fear it will," observed one of the attendants to Ugo, "thou wilt be to blame for it.”

"I deplore my inadvertence," replied Ugo. "But how was I to know that her majesty was so jealous?"

The queen's condition was very serious, and for some hours she was in great danger. Her physician, Doctor Hewke, was never absent from her for a moment. That night she was prematurely delivered of a daughter. Her anxiety to see her husband increased, and the impossibility of gratifying her desires, or even soothing her, brought on fever, and rendered her condition very precarious. Her women, who were devoted to her, were in despair, and Lady Tyrwhyt was almost distracted.

Next day, Ugo was summoned to the chamber of the suffering queen. The cloth of gold curtains were drawn so closely round the bed that the esquire could see nothing of its occupant, but he heard her moans and feeble accents.

"Is he come?" she inquired.

"Ay, your majesty," replied Lady Tyrwhyt.

"It is well," replied the queen. "Leave us alone for a moment." Upon this, Lady Tyrwhyt, with Doctor Hewke and the rest of the attendants, withdrew.

"Ugo," said the queen," thou must go instantly to my lord and husband, and bid him come to me without delay, if he would see me again alive. Take the best horse within the stable, and ride for thy life."

"I will do it, madam," replied the esquire.

"Fail not to bring my lord to me," she continued, in an agonised voice. "Thou dost not doubt his coming?"

"I am sure he will come," replied Ugo.

"Blessings on thee for thy comfortable words," she exclaimed. "Tell him I have brought him a beautiful daughter. She hath his features, Ugo. If he cares not to behold me, he may wish to see

her."

"I pray your majesty not to excite yourself," said Ugo. "I will not fail in my commission."

"There should be a ring with a great ruby in it on that table," said the queen. "Dost perceive it?"

"I do," he replied.

"Take it," pursued Catherine, "and let it quicken thy zeal for me."

"I need not such a gift to quicken it; nevertheless, I am greatly beholden to your majesty."

On a small table near the couch stood a silver flagon, evidently containing a potion intended for the queen. On this cup Ugo had for some time fixed his gaze. As he advanced to take the ring bestowed upon him by Catherine, he hastily drew from his doublet a small phial, and poured a few drops from it into the beverage. "She is scarcely likely to live," he thought; "but this will make all secure."

"Begone, and summon my women," cried the queen. "Why dost thou linger? Each moment is precious."

As Ugo stepped towards the door, Lady Tyrwhyt and the

others entered.

"Give me to drink," said Catherine, in a faint voice.

Drawing aside the curtains, Lady Tyrwhyt took the goblet and held it to her lips. Ugo could not help looking back, and saw that the poor queen drank with feverish avidity.

"She little recks that acqua tuffania is mingled with her potion," he muttered. "There will soon be no obstacle to my lord's marriage with the Princess Elizabeth."

III.

HOW THE LORD ADMIRAL BECAME A WIDOWER.

UGO HARRINGTON lost no time on the road, but, on reaching London, found that his lord had suddenly departed for Holt Castle, and at once followed him thither. Owing to these delays, though the utmost expedition was used consistent with the mode of travelling at the time, more than a week elapsed before the Admiral arrived at Sudley Castle, and when he did so, the queen was in a very alarming state. Doctor Hewke was wholly unable to account. for some of the symptoms she exhibited, and was perplexed to find that his remedies were ineffectual. She appeared to be gradually sinking. No sooner, however, was her husband's arrival announced, than new life seemed imparted to her, and she sent her physician to entreat him to come to her instantly.

As the Admiral entered her chamber, she arose from the chair in which she was seated, and, with a cry of delight, which went to the hearts of all those who heard it, threw herself into his arms.

Though love had long since been extinct in Seymour's breast, it was impossible he could be unmoved by this display of affection, and as he gazed on his consort's altered lineaments his heart smote him. Catherine, indeed, was wofully changed, and looked the mere shadow of her former self. But there was now a flush in her pale cheek, and an almost unearthly brightness in her eye, that lent a strange beauty to her countenance. She tried to speak, but words failed her, and she sank, sobbing, on her husband's shoulder.

"Calm yourself, sweetheart, I implore you," said Seymour. "This agitation will do you harm."

"Oh! I am so glad you are come!" she cried. "I feared I should never behold you again. I will not reproach you, but you have been long-long-in coming. I have counted the hours since Ugo left. Methinks if you had used despatch you might have been here four days ago."

"And so I should, sweetheart, had I not unluckily started for Holt before Ugo's arrival in London. Believe me, I have hurried to you on the wings of love and fear."

"Heaven be thanked you are not too late!" exclaimed Catherine, in a voice that thrilled through her husband's frame. "But you must see our babe, Seymour. 'Tis a pretty flower!"

"Does your majesty desire me to bring the little cherub here?" asked Lady Tyrwhyt.

"Ay, do," rejoined Catherine. "My lord must see it."

On this, Lady Tyrwhyt left the room, and shortly afterwards returned accompanied by a nurse bearing a large velvet pillow in her arms, on which the infant was laid, very richly attired. As the Admiral bent down to gaze upon its tiny features, it opened its eyes and seemed to smile upon him.

"Bless its dear heart!" exclaimed the nurse. know your highness."

""Tis a very pretty infant!" said the Admiral. rather have had a boy."

"It seems to

"But I would

"I am sure your highness has no cause to complain," cried the nurse, sharply. "A sweeter babe was never seen.”

"How shall we name her, Kate?" said the Admiral. "After yourself?"

"No, not after me," she rejoined. "Nor yet after the Princess Elizabeth," she was about to add. But she checked herself, and a blush overspread her pale features, and betrayed her secret. "Let her be called Mary. 'Tis a name I love. You will be a fond father to her, Seymour, when I am gone."

"I trust you will live to see her come to years of womanhood; ay, and well married."

"May she be happily married!" exclaimed Catherine, with a sigh. "Better she should die single than wed to grandeur and misery!"

She then gazed wistfully at the child for some moments, and exclaimed,

"Heaven bless thee, my babe! May thy lot be happier than thy mother's. Take her hence, good nurse. And leave me, all of you," she added to the others, "I desire to speak with my husband."

Her women having placed her in her chair, and arranged all matters for her convenience, quitted the room, For some little time