“You awaken new hope in my bosom,” rejoined the Duke.
“Be true to the faith you have embraced, and fear nothing,” continued Renard. “You may yet be restored to favour, and a new career of ambition will open to you.”
“Life is all I ask,” replied the Duke; “and if that be spared, it shall be spent in her majesty’s service. My pride is thoroughly humbled. But the language you hold to me, M. Renard, is not that of an enemy. Let me think that our differences are ended.”
“They will be ended to-morrow,” replied Renard, coldly.
“Be it so,” replied Northumberland. “The first act of the life I receive from her highness shall be to prostrate myself at her feet: the next, to offer my thanks to you, and entreat your friendship.‘’
“Tush,” returned Renard, impatiently. “My friendship is more to be feared than my enmity.”
“If there is any means of repairing the wrong I have done you,” said the Duke, turning to Gunnora, “be assured I will do it.”
“I am content with what your grace has done already,” rejoined Gunnora, sternly. “You cannot restore the Duke of Somerset to life. You cannot give back the blood shed on the scaffold—”
“But I can atone for it,” interrupted the Duke.
“Ay,” cried Gunnora, her eyes flashing with vindictive fire, “you can—fearfully atone for it.”