“By Herne?” demanded Anne.
Norris answered in the affirmative.
“Would you had never leagued yourself with him!” she cried; “I fear the rash act will bring destruction upon us both.”
“It is too late to retract now,” he replied; “besides, there was no help for it. I sacrificed myself to preserve you.”
“But will the sacrifice preserve me?” she cried. “I fear not. I have just been told that the king is preparing some terrible measure against me—that he meditates removing me, to make way for Jane Seymour.”
“You have heard the truth, madam,” replied Norris, “he will try to bring you to the block.”
“And with him, to try is to achieve,” said Anne. “Oh, Norris! it is a fearful thing to contemplate such a death!”
“But why contemplate it, madam?” said Norris; “why, if you are satisfied that the king has such designs against you—why, if you feel that he will succeed, tarry for the fatal blow? Fly with me—fly with one who loves you, and will devote his whole life to you—who regards you, not as the queen, but as Anne Boleyn. Relinquish this false and hollow grandeur, and fly with me to happiness and peace.”
“And relinquish my throne to Jane Seymour?” rejoined Anne “Never! I feel that all you assert is true—that my present position is hazardous—that Jane Seymour is in the ascendant, while I am on the decline, if not wholly sunk—that you love me entirely, and would devote your life to me—still, with all these motives for dread, I cannot prevail upon myself voluntarily to give up my title, and to abandon my post to a rival.”
“You do not love me, then, as I love you, Anne,” said Norris. “If I were a king, I would abandon my throne for you.”