A female figure now rushed forward, and bending before the king, cried
in an imploring voice--"Spare him, sire--spare him! He is no party to the
attack. I was near him in yon wood, and he stirred not forth till he saw
your life in danger. He then delivered you from the assassin."
"I did so because I reserved him for my own hand," said Wyat.
"You hear him confess his treason," cried Henry; "down on your knees,
villain, or I will strike you to my feet."
"He has just saved your life, my liege," cried the supplicant. "Oh, spare
him!"
"What make you here, Mabel?" cried Henry angrily. "I followed your
majesty unseen," she replied, in some confusion, "and reached yon
wood just as the attack commenced. I did not dare to advance
farther."
"You should have gone home--gone home," rejoined the king. "Wyat,"
he continued, in a tone of stern reproach, "you were once a loyal
subject. What means this change?"
"It means that you have robbed me of a mistress," replied Wyat; "and
for this cause I have damned myself."
"Pardon him!-oh, pardon him, sire," cried Mabel.
"I cannot understand you, Wyat," said Henry, after a pause; "but I have
myself suffered from the pangs of jealousy.
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