But I flew here like a hunted doe, and now, king, I lie at your feet.

There is still time.

Pardon, king, pardon for the Countess of Somerset, the last of the Plantagenets." "Pardon, sire, pardon!" repeated Catharine Parr, weeping and trembling, as she clung to her husband's side.

"Pardon!" repeated Archbishop Cranmer; and a few of the courtiers re-echoed it in a timid and anxious whisper.
The king's large, brilliant eyes glanced around the whole assembly, with a quick, penetrating look.

"And you, my Lord Bishop Gardiner," asked he, in a cold, sarcastic tone, "will you also ask for mercy, like all these weak-hearted souls here ?" "The Lord our God is a jealous God," said Gardiner, solemnly, "and it is written that God will punish the sinner unto the third and fourth generation." "And what is written shall stand true!" exclaimed the king, in a voice of thunder.