“You confess, then, that I have inspired you with some regard?” he cried rapturously.
“Do not indulge in these transports, Norris,” said Anne mournfully. “Your passion will only lead to your destruction—perchance to mine. Let the certainty that I do love, content you, and seek not to tempt your fate further.”
“Oh, madam! you make me the happiest of men by the avowal,” he cried. “I envy not now the king, for I feel raised above him by your love.”
“You must join the revel, Norris,” said Anne; “your absence from it will be observed.”
And extending her hand to him, he knelt down and pressed it passionately to his lips.
“Ah! we are observed,” she cried suddenly, and almost with a shriek. “Rise, sir!”
Norris instantly sprang to his feet, and, to his inexpressible dismay, saw the figure of a tall monk gliding away. Throwing a meaning look at the almost sinking queen, he followed the mysterious observer into the great hall, determined to rid himself of him in some way before he should have time to make any revelations.
Avoiding the brilliant throng, the monk entered the adjoining corridor, and descending the great staircase, passed into the upper quadrangle. From thence he proceeded towards the cloisters near St. George's Chapel, where he was overtaken by Norris, who had followed him closely.
“What would you with me, Sir Henry Norris?” cried the monk, halting.
“You may guess,” said Norris, sternly and drawing his sword. “There are secrets which are dangerous to the possessor. Unless you swear never to betray what you have seen and heard, you die.”