“I am come partly with that intent, and partly with another,” replied Gunnora. “Strange as it may sound, and doubtful, I am come to save you.”
“To save me!” exclaimed Northumberland, starting. “How?—But—no!—no! This is mockery. Begone, accursed woman.”
“It is no mockery,” rejoined Gunnora. “Listen to me, Duke of Northumberland. I love vengeance well, but I love my religion better. Your machinations brought my foster-son, the Duke of Somerset, to the block, and I would willingly see you conducted thither. But there is one consideration that overcomes this feeling. It is the welfare of the Catholic church. If you become a convert to that creed, thousands will follow your example; and for this great good I would sacrifice my own private animosity. I am come hither to tell you your life will be spared, provided you abandon the Protestant faith, and publicly embrace that of Rome.”
“How know you this?” demanded the Duke.
“No matter,” replied Gunnora. “I am in the confidence of those, who, though relentless enemies of yours, are yet warmer friends to the Church of Rome.”
“You mean Simon Renard and Gardiner!” observed Northumberland.
G minora nodded assent.
“And now my mission is ended,” she said. “Your grace will do well to weigh what I have said. But your decision must be speedy, or the warrant for your execution will be signed. Once within the pale of the Catholic church, you are safe.”
“If I should be induced to embrace the offer!” said the Duke. “If”—cried Gunnora, her eye suddenly kindling with vindictive fire.
“Woman,” rejoined the Duke, “I distrust you. I will die in the faith I have lived.”