I coloured a little as I ate my soup, fearing lest she should inquire if I had done my best to prepare Lady Jane's mind for the part she was to play, but a true lady is careful not to embarrass another, so my companion went on chatting pleasantly while I ate and drank, and it was only when I ended that she inquired if my father's consent had been obtained to my betrothal to Sir Hubert Blair. I answered in the affirmative, and thereupon she fell to praising Sir Hubert with such zest that I loved her dearly and thought, after my dear mistress, she was the nicest kindest woman I had ever seen.

And then, the banquet being over, and the Duke of Northumberland having collected his retinue, the whole cavalcade, of which Queen Jane, as they now called her, and her consort were the centre, proceeded in a grand procession to the Tower of London, where it is customary for the monarchs of England to begin their reign.

I cannot describe all the details of what made the most gorgeous state-procession that I ever saw, as I only caught glimpses of part of it from where I had my place beside Lady Caroline Wood and Mistress Ellen. But I know a troop of halberdiers, wearing velvet caps and fine doublets embroidered with the royal blazon woven in gold, and bearing staves covered with crimson velvet and adorned with golden tassels, in two long files lined the way from Northumberland House to the Thames, where the royal barge awaited us, for we were to go to the Tower by water. Cloth was laid down between these files of halberdiers for the procession to walk over, trumpets blew a great flourish, the sound of which met and mingled with the music of musicians on the water. The City Guard, the Garter King-at-Arms, the Knights of the Bath, in their accoutrements, the Judges in their scarlet and coifs, the Bishop of Ely who, being Lord Chancellor, wore a robe of scarlet, the Lord Mayor in crimson velvet, with many more illustrious, gaily-dressed persons, were followed by two venerable ecclesiastics, Cranmer, Archbishop of Canterbury, and Ridley, Bishop of London, in their surplices and snowy lawn sleeves, and then the Dukes of Northumberland and Suffolk, richly dressed, and the royal party.

It was a brilliant scene, although the sun was overclouded and the day gloomy with the signs of an approaching storm, and the air was full of music and trumpeting and the sounds of movement and revelry. One thing, however, smote us to the heart, and that was that although the streets were packed with onlookers no joyful cries of greeting to Queen Jane, no caps thrown in the air, no waving of hands and handkerchiefs betokened the joy of a people catching sight of its sovereign for the first time. True, murmurs of sympathy and admiration were to be heard when the youth and beauty of the royal lady were perceived. But it was only too evident that she was not the queen the nation desired.

'The silence of the people is ominous,' whispered Lady Caroline to me, 'I trust our queen does not observe it.'

'She cannot fail to notice it,' I returned. 'Oh, why could they not let her remain a private lady as she was before? Why need they drag her into this prominent position? She did not want to be a queen. She swooned when first the idea was made known to her——'

'But you had prepared her mind,' began Lady Caroline.

I did not heed the interpretation, but went on to describe how, on coming out of her swoon, my mistress begged and implored that she might not be made queen. I only spoke in a whisper, but my companions, fearful of my being overheard, made haste to stop me, and I could see that they did not wish to hear what I was telling them, their hearts being set upon Queen Jane's accession to the throne.

As our barge, following the royal barge, slowly passed along the river, I was greatly struck by the beauty and grandeur of the mighty city through which we were passing. I had never seen London before, and its gardens and stately palaces, spires and towers of churches, gateways, towers, drawbridges, houses, mills and chapels, and, last but not least, the noble old cathedral of St. Paul's,[[1]] presented to me a panorama of picturesque and beautiful scenes.[[2]]

[[1]] The old cathedral which was burnt to the ground.—ED.