'I could unking him with one breath! You sit where Loudon did, who came to prophesy my execution, and offer me Pym's grace if I would renounce the King, and I stood firm on the King's faith. The King

'Has signed the warrant for your death.'

'Put not your trust in princes, neither in the sons of men, in whom is no salvation.'

'You would not see me at your feet, Strafford ?' says the attendant, who now shows himself to be King Charles. It was wrung from me! Do not curse me!'

'As you hope for pardon in your own need, be merciful to this most wretched man,' says Hollis.

Now the children are heard singing in the next room, and their father begs the King to be kind to them, and let the boy serve him, for he will need friends. His own complaints he hopes his sovereign will pardon, and take his blessing. Then Charles calls in the lieutenant of the Tower, and says:—

'Balfour, go to the Parliament. Say I grant all their demands. Their sittings shall be perpetual; they may keep their money; I will come to them for every coat I wear, and every crust I eat; only I choose to pardon Strafford.'

'Does your Majesty hear the people howl for blood?' answers Balfour. The walls cannot keep out the murmur. Be pleased to retire.'

'Take all the troops, Balfour.'

'There are about a hundred thousand of the crowd.'

'Come with me, Strafford.'

'Balfour,' breaks in the Earl, 'say nothing about this to the world. I charge you to forget that you have seen his agony. Or you may say that the King was sorry, and even that he wept. I shall walk the more lightly to the block because of it. Earth fades, and heaven breaks on me. I am about to stand before God's throne. The moment is close at hand when I may lay my whole heart bare before my Maker, clear up all the errors of my life, and gain happiness for evermore.

pray for you.

There, King Charles, I shall You are witnesses that he could not

prevent my death.

All must be ready!

Lead on now, before he recovers.

Tread softly; there are children
Lead on! I follow

at play in the next room.

'Me!' exclaims Lady Carlisle, entering with her soldiers. Follow me, Strafford, and be safe.' Then she begins to tell the King that everything is arranged as he ordered; but seeing his state, she breaks off and says to the Earl: 'You know all, then! I thought it looked best to have him save you. It is a shame that you should owe me anything. But no, O Strafford, you'll not feel any shame at being saved by me?'

'It is all true,' says Hollis. 'It is she who saves

you. All her deed! Is the boat ready? Speak to her, Strafford! See how she trembles and waits for your words. The world is yet to learn its bravest

story!'

'We can talk afterwards,' says she.

'There will

be time enough in France to sit under the vines and

talk of home.'

'You love me, child! And I could escape?'

" Hasten !' she cries.

torches !'

'Bring forward the

They call me proud; strength against mine,

'I will die,' says the Earl. but England has met me, her and she has a right to have me show that her chosen foe is not a craven. I fought her to the utmost, and fell; now I am hers, and I will die. Besides, girl, Eliot is here, with his patient brow. I think you would be repaid if you could know how much I love you!'

'Then, for my sake!' she urges.

'Even for your sweet sake I must stay.'

'For your children's sake!' says Hollis.

'To bequeath a stain to them? Humour me, girl, and let me die!'

she.

'Awake, King Charles, and bid him escape!' cries

'Nay, I will go. Should I forsake the King? I will not draw back from one more service. And, after all, what is disgrace to me? Come, child, lead on!

But I feel strangely. Surely it was not meant to end in this way?'

'Lean on me,' she says. 'I can support him, Hollis.'

But he stops, saying: 'Not this way! This gate -I dreamt of it, of this very gate.'

'It opens on the river.

below;

there are our friends.'

Our good boat is moored

'Not by this gate! I feel what will be theresomething dark and fatal. I tell you, I dreamed of it! Do not touch it!'

'It is to save the King,' she urges.

At last Strafford opens the door, but there stand Pym, Hampden, Vane, and their friends in such force that he retreats before them. Then Pym advances slowly, and confronts him, saying :

'Have I done well? Speak, England! For her sole good I have laboured still, disregarding my own heart. I have made my youth barren and my future waste to offer her a sacrifice-this man, this Wentworth here. He walked with me in youth and loved me; and him, because he forsook England's cause, I have hunted by every means, knowing that she would sanctify them all; hunted him even to the block which waits for him. As I say this, I feel no bitterer pang than I felt first, in the hour I swore Wentworth might leave us, but I would never leave him. I leave him now. I render up my charge to England who

imposed it. Be witness, O God! I have done her bidding. It may be poorly, wrongly, and with ill effects, for I am a man; still, I have not faltered for a moment, but done my best-my human best. It is done! And having said this, I will say more. I never loved but one man. David had not more love for Jonathan. I love him even now. And in that world where great hearts that have been led astray are brought back again, and where I am soon to go-for, certainly, now that my mission is over I shall not live long—I look for my chief reward in stealing aside to walk once more with Wentworth, my youth's friend, purified of all errors, and renewed gloriously. And Eliot shall not blame us. This is no meeting, Wentworth! My tears grow too hot. Around the face I loved once, gathers a thin mist. Is it blood? Hereafter be our meeting!'

'I will meet you then, Pym,' answers Strafford, who already has a vision of the blood which is to flow after his. I, too, have loved England. It is well that I die now. Youth is the only time to decide our course; with manhood must follow action. It would be dreary to have to alter our whole life in old age, when our strength is gone. I wish to be set right when we meet again, but not now. Better die! And if there has been any fault of mine, that will die, too. Poor, little, old Laud may dream out his dream of a perfect Church in some blind corner.

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