but his anger turned to sadness when he heard that she was taken to the Tower.
There she was questioned, and it was said at that time that when Thomas Seymour lost his head on Tower Hill, the Princess Elizabeth would soon follow her lover.
Robert, at sixteen, was restless for adventure.
At that time the two most powerful men in England were jostling each other for first place; one of these was the Lord Protector Somerset, the other was Robert’s father, who suddenly found that he had the advantage over his political enemy.
Thomas Seymour had been beheaded without being granted an opportunity to speak in his defense. This in itself was shameful, but carried out at the command of his own brother seemed ignoble in the extreme. The popularity of the Lord Protector was waning; and that of his opponent consequently waxed.
Then came the rising of the peasants of Norfolk who were starving on account of the enclosure laws. They were marching on London when the Earl of Warwick, as General of the King’s Armies, set out against them and defeated them on their own ground in Norfolk.
The insurrection had been suppressed with great cruelty, and trouble averted. The country was grateful to Warwick for his speedy and ruthless action. The Norfolk landowners considered themselves deeply indebted to him, and Robert, who was with his father in Norfolk, became a guest at the large country estate of Sir John Robsart, lord of the manor of Siderstern.
Warwick returned to London, leaving his son to follow him; but Robert was in no hurry, and the reason was Robsart’s young daughter, Amy.
She was plump and pretty—a girl of Robert’s own age—and she had never seen anyone quite so dashing and handsome as this young man from Court circles.
Amy was the youngest of the family and rather pampered by her father and her two half-brothers and two half-sisters, particularly since the death of her mother, which had occurred a short while before the Norfolk rising.
Her brothers John and Philip, and her sisters Anne and Frances Appleyard, were not her father’s children; and Amy, being John Robsart’s only legitimate child, was also his heiress. She was used to having her own way, and she made no secret of her feelings for the handsome newcomer; and the more openly she admired him, the more good sense and charm she seemed to have in the eyes of Robert.
He liked the country; he enjoyed life in a great manor house; and he appreciated the honor showed to him by all these people. John and Philip Appleyard deemed it a compliment when he rode with them to the hunt. The girls—Anne and Frances—saw that all his favorite dishes were served at table. All the family smiled benignly to see his friendship with Amy ripen. As for Sir John Robsart, he was fervently hoping that Amy would make a good match, but at the same time wondering if he dared look so high as to the son of the most important man in England and the country’s real ruler.
Meanwhile Robert and Amy rode out together, hawking and hunting; her simple admiration was enchanting; she never failed to laugh when he indicated that he expected laughter; she always applauded, and she showed him in a hundred ways that he was more like a god than a man.
Robert felt gay and merry, basking in such adulation. He felt as worldly-wise as the young Princess whose name had been tossed hither and thither by sly rumor. He assured himself that this pretty and simple Amy was in truth far more desirable; she would never scorn him; she would always admire whatever he did.
One day when he and Amy were walking in the fields on her father’s estate, Amy began to collect daisies to make a chain. She had many pretty gestures and everything she did was with a charming innocent grace, as she now made a daisy chain.
It was springtime and the country smells and sounds enchanted Robert. He felt suddenly that he did not wish for any other life than this. To wander in green fields, to hunt in the forests, to live a life of ease and comfort with these pleasant country folk from whom he was so different that he was something more than human, seemed to him the ideal life.
“You are very pretty, Mistress Amy,” he said; and as she cast down her eyes and feigned great interest in her daisy chain, he continued: “Did you not hear me, Amy?”
She raised