The Constable of the Tower by W. Harrison Ainsworth

“Nay, good Sir Thomas, there is nothing I would not do, if I felt sure my daughter would be queen; and I will own to you, since you put it to me thus, that my lady marchioness hath broached the matter to me. Women will talk idly, as you wist. After all, the match would not be unsuitable, seeing that the Lady Jane herself is of the blood-royal.”

“The match can be made, and shall be made, I repeat, my Lord Marquis,” said Seymour; “but I must have the disposal of your daughter’s hand. My plans must not be interfered with. You must commit the Lady Jane entirely to my charge.”

“To your charge, Sir Thomas?” exclaimed the marquis, greatly surprised.

“To mine,” rejoined Seymour—”that is, to the charge of my wife, when I get one. I design to marry ere long, my lord, and then I shall be able to receive your daughter.”

“Accept my congratulations, Sir Thomas,” said Dorset, “I doubt not that your choice hath been well made; nay, if it hath lighted on the very highest, it would not amaze me.”

“I cannot let you into the secret as yet, my lord,” replied Seymour, smiling; “but thus much I will tell you. My marriage will assuredly not diminish my influence with my royal nephew or with the nobility. My rule, as you wot, is to make no step save in advance. You will hold it no discredit, but the reverse, to commit your daughter to the charge of her who may, perchance, condescend to take me for a husband.”

“Methinks I can read your riddle, Sir Thomas, but I will not try,” observed Dorset. “Enough, that you have convinced me. Have I your permission to consult the marchioness on this important matter?”

“Not as yet, my lord,” rejoined Seymour. “Women are ill at keeping a secret; and though my lady marchioness be the discreetest of her sex, yet hath she, I doubt not, a certain proneness to talk, given her by nature, which would render her an unfit depositary of a matter of this moment. Till all be settled, I must enjoin profound secrecy. I will give you a hint when to speak. Till then, let a seal be placed upon your lips. But see! the king and the Lady Jane are entering the gallery. Let us hasten to pay our devoirs to his Majesty.”

The undisguised delight manifested by the young king on seeing his favorite uncle would have satisfied the Marquis of Dorset of the place held by Seymour in his royal nephew’s affections, if the conversation he had just overheard in the garden had left that cautious nobleman any doubt on the subject.

Hearing quick footsteps behind him, Edward turned to ascertain whence they proceeded, and the instant he beheld Sir Thomas, he quitted the Lady Jane’s hand, which he had hitherto retained, and disregarding all ceremony—perhaps even forgetting in the impulse of the moment that ceremony was needful—he flew to meet his uncle, and without allowing him time to make any obeisance, or utter a word of remonstrance, he sprang towards him, and threw his arms affectionately round his neck.

Never, perhaps, did that ambitious man’s heart beat higher than when he returned his royal nephew’s fond embrace. He felt the effect produced by the demonstration on Dorset and his daughter, and though scarcely able to repress his exultation, he feigned to be overwhelmed by the king’s condescension.

“Your Majesty honors me far too much,” he said. “Near as I am to you by relationship, dear as you are to me as a nephew, I am bound to remind you that the distance between us is much greater than it was, and that the marks of affection which you have been accustomed to lavish upon me, and for which I shall ever feel proud and grateful, ought now, by right, to be discontinued.”

“Why so, gentle uncle?” rejoined Edward. “You do not love me less because I am king, do you? Certes, my love for you is not diminished by the circumstance. Wherefore should I put a mask upon my regard? Rather let me rejoice that I am now better able to prove its strength.”