"
"Not love you, Anne!" he repeated bitterly; "not love you I Words cannot
speak my devotion. I would lay down my head on the scaffold to prove
it. But for my love for you, I would throw open that door, and walk forth
so that all might see me--so that Henry might experience some part of
the anguish I now feel."
"But you will not do so, good Sir Thomas--dear Sir Thomas," cried Anne
Boleyn, in alarm.
"Have no fear," rejoined Wyat, with some contempt; "I will sacrifice
even vengeance to love."
"Sir Thomas, I had tolerated this too long," said Anne. "Begone--you
terrify me."
"It is my last interview with you, Anne," said Wyat imploringly; "do not
abridge it. Oh, bethink you of the happy hours we have passed
together--of the vows we have interchanged--of the protestations you
have listened to, and returned--ay, returned, Anne. Are all these
forgotten?"
"Not forgotten, Sir Thomas," replied Anne mournfully; "but they must
not be recalled. I cannot listen to you longer. You must go. Heaven
grant you may get hence in safety!"
"Anne," replied Wyat in a sombre tone, "the thought of Henry's
happiness drives me mad. I feel that I am grown a traitor--that I could
slay him.
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