Part 8

One lovely August evening, the Lady Mary stayed later than usual in "Wolsey's Hall."

The sunset glory faded and faded away; the twilight deepened and deepened into night; the moon and the stars looked in upon her through the great window. She was weary and sad, and the lonely stillness of that place seemed to suit her; she seemed to feel the calm moonlight in which she sat, bathing her like a soft, soothing flood. She leaned her head against the tapestried wall, closed her eyes, and thought, and thought of the great days and splendid festivals long gone by--of kings and queens, brave knights, and beautiful ladies, and--when all at once that vast hall was lighted up as though by magic! Music swelled through the arches, and a splendid court came slowly sweeping in! First walked a stout, red-faced man, all velvets and jewels, with a dark, sorrowful-looking lady on his right; and on his left, an elderly man, with a bold, haughty face, and a rich dress of scarlet velvet and ermine.

The Lady Mary recognized these as Henry VIII., Queen Katharine, and Cardinal Wolsey.

They were followed by maids of honor, gentlemen, priests, and pages.

Soon there was a livelier peal of music, and the dance began. The king danced with the most beautiful of the maids of honor, whom he smiled lovingly upon, while the poor queen looked very unhappy. So the Lady Mary knew that this fair maid must be Anne Boleyn.

When the dance ended, the gay court passed out; but again there was music, and another swept in. This was headed by a proud, stately woman, with golden hair, and cold blue eyes. She wore a sparkling diadem; her dress was of stiff brocade, thickly bestrewn with pearls and diamonds, while about her neck was a ruff so prodigious, that it alone would keep everybody at a very respectful distance. On her left, walked a handsome noble, most royally dressed, and behind came a brilliant host of beauties, pages, cavaliers, poets, and statesmen.

The Lady Mary now recognized Queen Elizabeth, the Earl of Essex, and the court.

The queen took her place upon the throne and graciously desired her court to be seated. Before them was a stage; they were to witness a play. The queen signified that she was ready, and the play began. It was "Henry VIII., or the Fall of Wolsey."

The queen seemed interested, and applauded occasionally, though the actors played badly. They were half frightened to death at appearing in that august place, before her august majesty; all but one, who went through with his part in a quiet, manly way, which did him great credit. This was the author--William Shakspeare.

At length the queen, court, and actors all went out, and there came in next, not a court, with music and pomp, but quietly and silently, a dark, sad-looking man, leading two children by the hand. These three walked up and down the hall, several times--the man talking to the children, and telling them, it seemed, something very sad, for they cried and clung to him, and then the three passed out, weeping.

The Lady Mary knew these to be Charles I. and his children, whom he had been telling, perhaps, that he might soon be put to death.

Next there came, in stillness also, a stern, haggard-faced man, in a rough, half-military dress, with a sweet delicate-looking lady, in white. She was clinging to his arm, and seemed expostulating with him very earnestly, but he shook his head, yet at the same time he tenderly smoothed her hair, with his strong hand, and playfully pinched her thin cheek, and tried to smile. Then he suddenly turned, and strode out of the hall. The lady stood a moment, looking after him mournfully, and then passed out also.

The Lady Mary knew these two to be Cromwell and his daughter Elizabeth, who often interceded with her father, for political offenders.

Again there was loud music, and again a brilliant court came pouring in. First walked a dark, dissolute-looking young man, very gayly dressed, with long curls dangling about his shoulders, handing carelessly along a pale, dispirited lady, who didn't seem to find much comfort in the queenly diadem she wore.

The ball began, and soon it was turned into a wild revel. Beautiful, but bold ladies, and reckless looking gentlemen, danced and laughed, sung and feasted, and gamed, and grew merrier and madder every minute.

The Lady Mary became frightened, for she saw that she was in the profligate court of Charles II. She tried to hide behind the tapestry by the window, but a rollicking nobleman, whom she recognized by his portraits as the Earl of Rochester, caught sight of her, and sprang forward, to drag her out into the midst of the hall! She flung his hand off, with a scream, and lo, he, the king, the queen, the court, the lights, every thing vanished!

It was all a dream!

The Lady Mary was alone in the old hall, in the silent night, now darker than before, for a cloud had come over the moon.

She groped her way to the door, unlocked it, and passed into the withdrawing room. At the further end she saw some one coming, she could not see who it was, by the dim starlight, so she asked: "Roger, is that you?"

"No, Mary," answered a glad, tremulous voice, "it is not Roger--it is I--George!"

With a wild, joyful cry, the Lady Mary sprang forward, and was clasped in her husband's arms.

And this was not a dream.

Captain Hamilton had been severely wounded, and taken captive by the Afghans. They had kept him a close prisoner in the mountains, not even permitting him to write a letter to any one, for two years. He had at last been discovered, liberated, and sent home to recover his health, which had suffered somewhat in his hardship and confinement.

On arriving at Hampton Court, whither he had been directed from London, he had been told by old Roger where his wife probably was, as he could not find her in her apartments, and was on his way to the hall, when he met her, as we have seen.

The next time that the Lady Mary visited that old hall, to walk in the moonlight, or muse in her favorite window-seat, it was observed that she did not go alone.

Windsor Castle

KING JAMES OF SCOTLAND AND THE LADY JANE BEAUFORT.

One of the pleasantest excursions which a traveller can make from London is to Windsor, with its parks and grounds so wonderfully luxuriant and beautiful, and so vast in extent, and its royal old castle--certainly one of the noblest sights in all England.