The King's Achievement. Robert Hugh Benson

and punctuating her words with stitches—"about—about affairs—and—and she said one day that—"

      "Well?" said Ralph in the same tone.

      "That she thought you were not so severe as you seemed," ended Margaret, her voice a little tremulous with amusement.

      Ralph sat perfectly still, staring at the great fire-plate on which a smoky Phoebus in relief drove the chariot of the sun behind the tall wavering flames that rose from the burning logs. He knew very well why Margaret had spoken, and that she would not speak without reason; but the fact revealed was so bewilderingly new to him that he could not take it in. Margaret looked at him once or twice a little uneasily; and at last sighed.

      "It is too dark," she said, "I must fetch candles."

      She slipped out of the side-door that led to the servants' quarters, and Ralph was left alone. All his weariness was gone now; the whirl of images and schemes with which his brain had been seething as he walked up the river-bank half-an-hour before, had receded into obscurity; and one dominating thought filled their place: What if Margaret were right? And what did he mean to do himself? Surely he was not—

      The door from the entrance passage opened, and a tall slender figure stood there, now in light, now in shadow, as the flames rose and fell.

      "Meg," said a voice.

      Ralph sat still a moment longer.

      "Meg," said Beatrice again, "how dark you are."

      Ralph stood up.

      "Mrs. Roper has just gone," he said, "you must put up with me, Mrs.

       Beatrice."

      "Who is it?" said the girl advancing. "Mr. Torridon?"

      She had a paper in her hand as she came across the floor, and Ralph drew out a chair for her on the other side of the hearth.

      "Yes," he said. "Mrs. Roper has gone for lights. She will be back immediately."

      Beatrice sat down.

      "It is a troublesome word," she said. "Master More cannot read it himself, and has sent me to ask Meg. He says that every dutiful daughter should be able to read her father's hand."

      And Ralph could see a faint amused smile in her black eyes, as the firelight shone on them.

      "Master More always has an escape ready," he said, as he too sat down.

      The girl's hand holding the paper suddenly dropped on to her knee, and the man saw she was looking at him oddly.

      "Yes?" he said interrogatively; and then—

      "Why do you look at me like that, Mrs. Beatrice?"

      "It is what you said. Do you really think that, Mr. Torridon?"

      Ralph was bewildered for a moment.

      "I do not understand," he said.

      "Do you truly think he always has an escape ready?" repeated the girl.

      Then Ralph understood.

      "You mean he is in danger," he said steadily. "Well, of course he is. There is no great man that is not. But I do not see why he should not escape as he has always done."

      "You think that, Mr. Torridon?"

      "Why, yes;" went on Ralph, a little hastily. "You remember the matter of the bribe. See how he cleared himself. Surely, Mrs. Beatrice—"

      "And you really think so," said the girl. "I know that you know what we do not; and I shall believe what you say."

      "How can I tell?" remonstrated Ralph. "I can only tell you that in this matter I know nothing that you do not. Master More is under no suspicion."

      Beatrice drew a breath of relief.

      "I am glad I spoke to you, sir," she said. "It has been on my mind. And something that he said a few minutes ago frightened me."

      "What did he say?" asked Ralph curiously.

      "Ah! it was not much. It was that no man knew what might come next; that matters were very strange and dismaying—and—and that he wanted this paper copied quickly, for fear—"

      The girl stopped again, abruptly.

      "I know what you feel, Mrs. Beatrice," said Ralph gently. "I know how you love Master More, and how terrified we may become for our friends."

      "What do you think yourself, Mr. Torridon," she said suddenly, almost interrupting him.

      He looked at her doubtfully a moment, and half wished that Margaret would come back.

      "That is a wide question," he said.

      "Well, you know what I mean," she said coolly, completely herself again. She was sitting back in her chair now, drawing the paper serenely to and fro between her fingers; and he could see the firelight on her chin and brows, and those steady eyes watching him. He had an impulse of confidence.

      "I do think changes are coming," he said. "I suppose we all do."

      "And you approve?"

      "Oh! how can I say off-hand?—But I think changes are needed."

      She was looking down at the fire again now, and did not speak for a moment.

      "Master More said you were of the new school," she said meditatively.

      Ralph felt a curious thrill of exultation. Margaret was right then; this girl had been thinking about him.

      "There is certainly a stirring," he said; and his voice was a little restrained.

      "Oh, I am not blind or deaf," said the girl. "Of course, there is a stirring—but I wondered—"

      Then Margaret came in with the candles.

      Ralph went away that evening more excited than he liked. It seemed as if Mistress Roper's words had set light to a fire ready laid, and he could perceive the warmth beginning to move about his heart and odd wavering lights flickering on his circumstances and business that had not been there before.

      * * * * *

      He received his first letter from Beatrice a few weeks later, and it threw him into a strait between his personal and official claims.

      Cromwell at this time was exceedingly occupied with quelling the ardour of the House of Lords, who were requesting that the Holy Maid of Kent and her companions might have an opportunity of defending themselves before the Act of Attainder ordered by the King was passed against them; but he found time to tell his agent that trouble was impending over More and Fisher; and to request him to hand in any evidence that he might have against the former.

      "I suppose we shall have to let the Bishop off with a fine," said the minister, "in regard to the Maid's affair; but we shall catch him presently over the Act; and Mr. More is clear of it. But we shall have him too in a few days. Put down what you have to say, Mr. Torridon, and let me have it this evening."

      And then he rustled off down the staircase to where his carriage was waiting to take him to Westminster, where he proposed to tell the scrupulous peers that the King was not accustomed to command twice, and that to suspect his Grace of wishing them to do an injustice was a piece of insolence that neither himself nor his royal master had expected of them.

      Ralph was actually engaged in putting down his very scanty accusations against Sir Thomas More when the letter from Beatrice was brought up to him. He read it through twice in silence; and then ordered the courier to wait below. When the servant had left the room, he read it through a third time.

      It was not long; but it was pregnant.

      "I entreat you, sir," wrote the girl, "for the love of Jesu, to let us know if anything is designed against our friend. Three weeks ago you told me it was not so; I pray God that may be true still. I know that you would not lift a finger against him yourself—" (Ralph glanced at his own neat