Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. Windsor Castle by William Harrison Ainsworth (digital book reader txt) 📖
- Author: William Harrison Ainsworth
Book online «Windsor Castle by William Harrison Ainsworth (digital book reader txt) 📖». Author William Harrison Ainsworth
Henry glanced at the letters, and his brow grew dark.
“What say you to them, my liege?” cried Catherine, with a glance of triumph. “In the one she vows eternal constancy to Sir Thomas Wyat, and in the other—written after her engagement to you—he tells him that though they can never meet as heretofore, she will always love him.”
“Ten thousand furies!” cried the king. “Where got you these letters, madam?”
“They were given to me by a tall dark man, as I quitted the castle last night,” said the queen. “He said they were taken from the person of Sir Thomas Wyat while he lay concealed in the forest in the cave of Herne the Hunter.”
“If I thought she wrote them,” cried Henry, in an access jealous fury, “I would cast her off for ever.”
“Methinks your majesty should be able to judge whether they are true or false,” said Catherine. “I know her writing well—too well, alas!—and am satisfied they are genuine.”
“I am well assured that Wyat was concealed in the Lady Anne's chamber when your majesty demanded admittance and could not obtain it—when the Earl of Surrey sacrificed himself for her, and for his friend,” said Wolsey.
“Perdition!” exclaimed the king, striking his brow with his clenched hand. “Oh, Catherine!” he continued, after a pause, during which she intently watched the workings of his countenance, “and it was for this light-hearted creature I was about to cast you off.”
“I forgive you, sire—I forgive you!” exclaimed the queen, clasping his hands, and bedewing them with grateful tears. “You have been deceived. Heaven keep you in the same mind!”
“You have preserved me,” said Henry, “but you must not tarry here. Come with me to the royal lodgings.”
“No, Henry,” replied Catherine, with a shudder, “not while she is there.”
“Make no conditions, madam,” whispered Wolsey. “Go.”
“She shall be removed to-morrow,” said Henry.
“In that case I am content to smother my feelings,” said the queen.
“Come, then, Kate,” said Henry, taking her hand. “Lord cardinal, you will attend us.”
“Right gladly, my liege,” replied Wolsey. “If this mood will only endure,” he muttered, “all will go well. But his jealousy must not be allowed to cool. Would that Wyat were here!”
Doctor Sampson could scarcely credit his senses as he beheld the august pair come forth together, and a word from Wolsey explaining what had occurred, threw him into transports of delight. But the surprise of the good canon was nothing to that exhibited as Henry and Catherine entered the royal lodgings, and the king ordered his own apartments to be instantly prepared for her majesty's reception.
XI. How Tristram Lyndwood and Mabel were liberated.
Intelligence of the queen's return was instantly conveyed to Anne Boleyn, and filled her with indescribable alarm. All her visions of power and splendour seemed to melt away at once. She sent for her father, Lord Rochford, who hurried to her in a state of the utmost anxiety, and closely questioned her whether the extraordinary change had not been occasioned by some imprudence of her own. But she positively denied the charge, alleging that she had parted with the king scarcely an hour before on terms of the most perfect amity, and with the full conviction that she had accomplished the cardinal's ruin.
“You should not have put forth your hand against him till you were sure of striking the blow,” said Rochford. “There is no telling what secret influence he has over the king; and there may yet be a hard battle to fight. But not a moment must be lost in counteracting his operations. Luckily, Suffolk is here, and his enmity to the cardinal will make him a sure friend to us. Pray Heaven you have not given the king fresh occasion for jealousy! That is all I fear.”
And quitting his daughter, he sought out Suffolk, who, alarmed at what appeared like a restoration of Wolsey to favour, promised heartily to co-operate with him in the struggle; and that no time might be lost, the duke proceeded at once to the royal closet, where he found the king pacing moodily to and fro.
“Your majesty seems disturbed,” said the duke.
“Disturbed!—ay!” exclaimed the king. “I have enough to disturb me. I will never love again. I will forswear the whole sex. Harkee, Suffolk, you are my brother, my second self, and know all the secrets of my heart. After the passionate devotion I have displayed for Anne Boleyn—after all I have done for her—all I have risked for her—I have been deceived.”
“Impossible, my liege?” exclaimed Suffolk.
“Why, so I thought,” cried Henry, “and I turned a deaf ear to all insinuations thrown out against her, till proof was afforded which I could no longer doubt.”
“And what was the amount of the proof, my liege?” asked Suffolk.
“These letters,” said Henry, handing them to him, “found on the person of Sir Thomas Wyat.”
“But these only prove, my liege, the existence of a former passion—nothing more,” remarked Suffolk, after he had scanned them.
“But she vows eternal constancy to him!” cried Henry; “says she shall ever love him—says so at the time she professes devoted love for me! How can I trust her after that? Suffolk, I feel she does not love me exclusively; and my passion is so deep and devouring, that it demands entire return. I must have her heart as well as her person; and I feel I have only won her in my quality of king.”
“I am persuaded your majesty is mistaken,” said the duke. “Would I could think so!” sighed Henry. “But no—no, I cannot be deceived. I will conquer this fatal passion. Oh, Suffolk! it is frightful to be the bondslave of a woman—a fickle, inconstant woman. But between the depths of love and hate is but a step; and I can pass from one to the other.”
“Do nothing rashly, my dear liege,” said Suffolk; “nothing that may bring with it after-repentance. Do not be swayed by those who have inflamed your jealousy, and who could practise upon it. Think the matter calmly over, and then act. And till you have decided, see neither Catherine nor Anne; and, above all, do not admit Wolsey to your secret counsels.”
“You are his enemy, Suffolk,” said the king sternly.
“I am your majesty's friend,” replied the duke. “I beseech you, yield to me on this occasion, and I am sure of your thanks hereafter.”
“Well, I believe you are right, my good friend and brother,” said Henry, “and I will curb my impulses of rage and jealousy. To-morrow, before
Comments (0)