“I should have been extremely well pleased,” he answered, with a sudden impatience of manner, “had Wolsey not persisted so obstinately in following me. I have been much too indulgent,” he continued sharply, “infinitely too indulgent towards him, and am now well convinced of the mistake I have made in retaining the slightest affection for a man who has so miserably deceived me. What would you think, More,” he continued, his manner suddenly changing, “if I appointed you in his place as lord chancellor?” And, turning towards Sir Thomas, he gazed fixedly in his eyes, as if to read the inmost emotions of his soul.
“What would I think?” answered More, calmly—then adding with a careless smile, “I should think your majesty had done a very wrong thing, and made a very bad choice.”
“Well, I believe I could not possibly make a better,” said the king, emphasizing the last words. “But I have not come here to discuss business matters; rather, on the contrary, to get rid of them. Come, then, entertain me with something more agreeable.” But the words designedly (though with seeming unconcern) uttered by the king cast a sudden gloom over the spirit of Sir Thomas he vainly endeavored to dispel.
“Sire, your majesty is greatly mistaken in entertaining such an idea,” he said, stammering and confused; for, with his sincere and truthful nature, More under all circumstances resolutely looked to the end of everything in which he suspected the least dissimulation.
The king whirled round on his heel, pretending not to hear him. “This is a beautiful rose,” he said, stooping down, “a very beautiful variety—come from the seed, no doubt? Are you a gardener? I am very fond of flowers. Oh! my garden will be superb.”
“Sire,” said More, still pursuing his subject.
“I must have a cutting of that rose—do you hear me, More?” As he ran on in this manner, to prevent Sir Thomas from speaking, the silvery notes of a bell were heard, filling the air with a sweet and prolonged vibrating sound.
“What bell is that?” asked the king.
“The bell of our chapel, sire,” replied More, “summoning us to evening prayers, which we usually prefer saying all together. But to-day, your majesty having honored us with a visit, there will be no obligation to answer the call.”
“By all means,” replied Henry. “Let me interfere with nothing. It is almost night: come. We will return, and I will join in your devotions.”