“I am come to save you, madame,” said the earl. “I have been just liberated from arrest, and was about to implore your intercession with the king, when I learned he had been informed by one of his pages that a man was in your chamber. Luckily, he knows not who it is, and while he was summoning his attendants to accompany him, I hurried hither by the secret staircase. I have arrived in time. Fly—fly! Sir Thomas Wyat!”
But Wyat moved not.
At this moment footsteps were heard approaching the door—the handle was tried—and the stern voice of the king was heard commanding that it might be opened.
“Will you destroy me, Wyat?” cried Anne.
“You have destroyed yourself,” he rejoined.
“Why stay you here, Sir Thomas?” said Surrey, seizing his arm. “You may yet escape. By heaven! if you move not, I will stab you to the heart!”
“You would do me a favour, young man,” said Wyat coldly; “but I will go. I yield to love, and not to you, tyrant!” he added, shaking his hand at the door. “May the worst pangs of jealously rend your heart!” And he disappeared behind the arras.
“I hear voices,” cried Henry from without. “God's death! madam, open the door—or I will burst it open!”
“Oh, heaven! what is to be done?” cried Anne Boleyn, in despair.
“Open the door, and leave all to me, madam,” said Surrey; “I will save you, though it cost me my life!”