of the unwholesome imaginings of o’erwrought fancy; that he shall strive with diligence to bring unto his memory again those faces which he was wont to know—and where he faileth he shall hold his peace, neither betraying by semblance of surprise, or other sign, that he hath forgot; that upon occasions of state, whensoever any matter shall perplex him as to the thing he should do or the utterance he should make, he shall show naught of unrest to the curious that look on, but take advice in that matter of the Lord Hertford, or my humble self, which are commanded of the king to be upon this service and close to call, till this commandment be dissolved. Thus saith the king’s majesty, who sendeth greeting to your royal highness and prayeth that God will of His mercy quickly heal you and have you now and ever in His holy keeping.”
The Lord St. John made reverence and stood aside. Tom replied, resignedly:
“The king hath said it. None may palter with the king’s command, or fit it to his ease, where it doth chafe, with deft evasions. The king shall be obeyed.”
Lord Hertford said:
“Touching the king’s majesty’s ordainment concerning books and such like serious matters, it may peradventure please your highness to ease your time with lightsome entertainment, lest you go wearied to the banquet and suffer harm thereby.”
Tom’s face showed inquiring surprise; and a blush followed when he saw Lord St. John’s eyes bent sorrowfully upon him. His lordship said:
“Thy memory still wrongeth thee, and thou hast shown surprise—but suffer it not to trouble thee, for ’tis a matter that will not bide, but depart with thy mending malady. My Lord of Hertford speaketh of the city’s banquet which the king’s majesty did promise two months flown, your highness should attend. Thou recallest it now?”
“It grieves me to confess it had indeed escaped me,” said Tom, in a hesitating voice; and blushed again.
At that moment the Lady Elizabeth and the Lady Jane Grey were announced. The two lords exchanged significant glances, and Hertford stepped quickly toward the door. As the young girls passed him, he said in a low voice:
“I pray ye, ladies, seem not to observe his humors, nor show surprise when his memory doth lapse—it will grieve you to note how it doth stick at every trifle.”
Meanwhile Lord St. John was saying in Tom’s ear:
“Please you, sir, keep diligently in mind his majesty’s desire. Remember all thou canst—seem to remember all else. Let them not perceive that thou art much changed from thy wont, for thou knowest how tenderly thy old playfellows bear thee in their hearts and how ’twould grieve them. Art willing, sir, that I remain?—and thine uncle?”
Tom signified assent with a gesture and a murmured word, for he was already learning, and in his simple heart was resolved to acquit himself as best he might, according to the king’s command.
In spite of every precaution, the conversation among the young people became a little embarrassing at times. More than once, in truth, Tom was near to breaking down and confessing himself unequal to his tremendous part; but the tact of the Princess Elizabeth saved him, or a word from one or the other of the vigilant lords, thrown in apparently by chance, had the same happy effect. Once the little Lady Jane turned to Tom and dismayed him with this question:
“Hast paid thy duty to the queen’s majesty today, my lord?”
Tom hesitated, looked distressed, and was about to stammer out something at hazard, when Lord St. John took the word and answered for him with the easy grace of a courtier accustomed to encounter delicate difficulties and to be ready for them:
“He hath indeed, madam, and she did greatly hearten him, as touching his majesty’s condition; is it not so, your highness?”
Tom mumbled something that stood for assent, but felt that he was getting upon dangerous ground. Somewhat later it was mentioned that Tom was to study no more at present, whereupon her little ladyship exclaimed:
“’Tis a pity, ’tis such a pity! Thou wert proceeding bravely. But bide thy time in patience; it will not be for long. Thou’lt yet be graced with learning like thy father, and make thy tongue master of as many languages as his, good my prince.”
“My father!” cried Tom, off his guard for the moment. “I trow he cannot speak his own so that any but the swine that wallow in the sties may tell his meaning; and as for learning of any sort soever—”
He looked up and encountered a solemn warning in my Lord St. John’s eyes.
He stopped, blushed, then continued low and sadly: “Ah, my malady persecuteth me again, and my mind wandereth. I meant the king’s grace no irreverence.”
“We know it, sir,” said the Princess Elizabeth, taking her “brother’s” hand between her two palms, respectfully but caressingly; “trouble not thyself as to that. The fault is none of thine, but thy distemper’s.”
“Thou’rt a gentle comforter, sweet lady,” said Tom, gratefully, “and my heart moveth me to thank thee for’t, an I may be so bold.”
Once the giddy little Lady Jane fired a simple Greek phrase at Tom. The Princess Elizabeth’s quick eye saw by the serene blankness of the target’s front that the shaft was overshot; so she tranquilly delivered a return volley of sounding Greek on Tom’s behalf, and then straightway changed the talk to other matters.
Time wore on pleasantly, and likewise smoothly, on the whole. Snags and sand-bars grew less and less frequent, and Tom grew more and more at his ease, seeing that all were so lovingly bent upon helping him and overlooking his mistakes. When it came out that the little ladies were to accompany him to the Lord Mayor’s banquet in the evening, his heart gave a bound of relief and delight, for he felt that he should not be friendless now, among that multitude of strangers, whereas, an hour earlier, the idea of their going with him would have been an insupportable terror to him.
Tom’s guardian angels, the two lords, had had less comfort in the interview than the other parties to it. They felt much as if they were piloting a great ship through a dangerous channel; they were on the alert constantly, and found their office no child’s play. Wherefore, at last, when the ladies’ visit was drawing to a close and the Lord Guilford Dudley was announced, they not only felt that their charge had been sufficiently taxed for the present, but also that they themselves were not in the best condition to take their ship back and make their anxious voyage all over again. So they respectfully advised Tom to excuse himself, which he was very glad to do, although a slight shade of disappointment might have been observed upon my Lady Jane’s face when she heard the splendid stripling denied admittance.
There was a pause now, a sort of waiting silence which Tom could not understand. He glanced at Lord Hertford, who gave him a sign—but he failed to understand that also. The ready Elizabeth came to the rescue with her usual easy grace. She made reverence and said:
“Have we leave of the prince’s grace my brother to go?”
Tom said:
“Indeed, your ladyships can have whatsover of me they will, for the asking; yet would I rather give them any other thing that in my poor power lieth, than leave to take the light and blessing of their presence hence. Give ye good den, and God be with ye!” Then he smiled inwardly at the thought, “’tis not for naught I have dwelt but among princes in my reading, and taught my tongue some slight trick of their broidered and gracious speech withal!”
When
