OF THE COMPACT BETWEEN SIR THOMAS WYAT AND HERNE THE HUNTER.

On the day after his secret interview with Anne Boleyn, Sir Thomas Wyat received dispatches from the king for the court of France, coupled with orders for his immediate departure on

the mission. To his inquiries whether the king desired to see him before he set forth, the messenger who brought the dispatches replied in the negative, adding-" his majesty bade me tell you to make your preparations quickly, Sir Thomas. He cares not how soon you set forth."

"The king's pleasure shall be obeyed," rejoined Wyat.

Left alone, he remained for some time in profound and melancholy thought. Heaving a deep sigh, he then arose, and paced the chamber with rapid strides.

"Yes, it is better thus," he ejaculated; "if I remain near her, I shall do some desperate deed. Better,-far better-I should go. And yet to leave her with Henry-to know that he is ever near her that he drinks in the music of her voice, and basks in the sunshine of her smile-while I am driven forth to darkness and despair-the thought is madness! I will not obey the hateful mandate! I will stay and defy him!"

As he uttered this wild and unguarded speech aloud, the arras screening the door was drawn aside, and revealed Wolsey.

Wyat's gaze sunk before the penetrating glance fixed upon him by the cardinal.

"I did not come to play the eaves-dropper, Sir Thomas," said Wolsey; "but I have heard enough to place your life in my power. So, you refuse to obey the king's injunctions. You refuse to proceed to Paris. You refuse to assist in bringing about the divorce, and prefer remaining here to brave your sovereign, and avenge yourself upon a fickle mistress. Ha?" Wyat returned no answer.

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If such be your purpose," pursued Wolsey, after a pause, during which he intently scrutinized the knight's countenance, "I will assist you in it. Be ruled by me, and you shall have a deep and full revenge."

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Say on," rejoined Wyat ;-his eyes blazing with infernal fire, and his hand involuntarily clutching his dagger.

"If I read you aright," continued the cardinal," you are arrived at that pitch of desperation, when life itself becomes indifferent, and when but one object remains to be gained"And that is vengeance!" interrupted Wyat, fiercely. Right, cardinal, right. I will have vengeance-terrible vengeance!"

"But I will not deceive you," rejoined Wolsey, coldly. "You will purchase what you seek at the price of your own head." "I care not," replied Wyat. "All sentiments of love and loyalty are swallowed up by jealousy and burning hate. Nothing but blood can allay the fever that consumes me. to slay him!"

Shew me how

"Him!" echoed the cardinal, in alarm and horror. "Wretch ! would you kill your king? God forbid I should counsel the injury of a hair of his head!

I do not want you to play the

assassin, Wyat," he added, more calmly, "but the just avenger. Liberate the king from the thraldom of the capricious syren who enslaves him, and you will do a service to the whole country. A word from you-a letter-a token-will cast her from the king, and place her on the block. And what matter? The gory scaffold will be better than Henry's bed."

"I cannot harm her," cried Wyat, distractedly. "I love her still, devotedly as ever. She was in my power yesterday, and without your aid, cardinal, I could have wreaked my vengeance upon her, if I had been so minded."

"You were then in her chamber, as the king suspected?" cried Wolsey, with a look of exultation. "Trouble yourself no more, Sir Thomas. I will take the part of vengeance off your hands."

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My indiscretion will avail you little, cardinal,” replied Wyat, sternly. "You can prove nothing from my hasty words. I will perish on the rack sooner than impeach Anne Boleyn. I am a desperate man, but not so desperate as you suppose me. moment ago, I might have been led on, by the murtherous and traitorous impulse that prompted me to lift my hand against the king, but I never could have injured her."

"You are a madman !" cried Wolsey, impatiently; "and it is a waste of time to argue with you. I wish you good speed on your journey. On your return, you will find Anne Boleyn Queen of England."

And turning upon his heel, with a look of mingled contempt and indignation, he quitted the chamber.

Again left alone, Wyat fell into another fit of despondency, from which he roused himself with difficulty, and went forth to visit the Earl of Surrey in the Round Tower.

Some delay occurred before he could obtain access to the earl. The halberdier stationed at the entrance to the keep near the Norman Tower, refused to admit him without the order of the officer in command of the Tower, and as the latter was not in the way at the moment, Wyat had to remain without, till he made his appearance.

While thus detained, he beheld Anne Boleyn and her royal lover mount their steeds, in the upper ward, and ride forth, with their attendants, towards the forest. They were bent on a hawking expedition as was manifest from a beautiful falcon which Anne Boleyn carried on her wrist. The bird was well known to Wyat, for he himself had given it her. And there she was, all smiles, and bloom, and beauty-full of coquetry, animation, and delight-without the vestige of a cloud upon her brow, or a care on her countenance-though she must have known that he was virtually banished from her.

With increased bitterness of heart, he turned from the sight, and shrouded himself beneath the gateway of the Norman Tower.

Soon after this, the officer appeared, and at once stated that Wyat might be admitted to the earl, inasmuch as the latter was only regarded as under restraint, and not as a regular prisoner. He was consequently not debarred from the society of his friends.

Preceding Wyat, the officer slowly scaled the long flight of stone steps which communicate with the upper part of the donjon, and are screened by an embattled and turreted structure, called the covered way to the Round Tower.

Arrived at the summit of the steps, which were then, as now, commanded by a piece of ordnance, the officer unlocked a door on the left, and ushered his companion into the prisoner's chamber.

Partaking of the circular form of the structure in which it was situated, the further part of this chamber was almost lost to view, and a number of cross-beams and wooden pillars added to its sombre and mysterious appearance. The walls were of enormous thickness, and a narrow loop-hole, terminating a deep embrasure, afforded but scanty light. Opposite the embrasure sat Surrey, at a small table covered with books and writing ma

terials. A lute lay beside him on the floor, and there were several astrological and alchemical implements within his reach.

So immersed was the youthful prisoner in study, that he was not aware, until a slight exclamation was uttered by Wyat, of the entrance of the latter. He then arose, and shook him cordially by the hand.

Nothing material passed between them as long as the officer remained in the chamber, but on his departure, Surrey observed, laughingly, to the knight-" And how doth my fair cousin, the Lady Anne Boleyn ?"

"She has just ridden forth with the king, to hawk in the forest," replied Wyat, moodily. "For myself, I am ordered on a mission to France, but I could not depart without entreating your forgiveness for the jeopardy in which I have placed you. Would I could take your place."

"Do not heed me," replied Surrey-"I am well content with what has happened. Virgil and Homer, Dante and Petrarch, are the companions of my confinement. In good sooth, I am glad to be alone. Amid the distractions of the court, I could find little leisure for the Muse."