“I am glad to see you weep,” said Wyat; “your tears make you look more like your former self.”
“Oh, Wyat, do not view my conduct too harshly!” she said. “Few of my sex would have acted other than I have done.”
“I do not think so,” replied Wyat sternly; “nor will I forego my vengeance. Anne, you shall die. You know Henry too well to doubt your fate if he finds me here.”
“You cannot mean this,” she rejoined, with difficulty repressing a scream; “but if I perish, you will perish with me.”
“I wish to do so,” he rejoined, with a bitter laugh.
“Wyat,” cried Anne, throwing herself on her knees before him, “by your former love for me, I implore you to spare me! Do not disgrace me thus.”
But Wyat continued inexorable.
“O God!” exclaimed Anne, wringing her hands in agony. A terrible silence ensued, during which Anne regarded Wyat, but she could discern no change in his countenance.
At this juncture the tapestry was again raised, and the Earl of Surrey issued from it.
“You here, my lord?” said Anne, rushing towards him.