[Illustration: ROTTEN ROW. LONDON.]
When news of what had happened reached the family of the Seymours, it
threw them into a state of alarm not less than that of the king. They
knew what it meant to offend the crown. The progenitor of the family,
the Duke of Somerset, had lost his head through some offence to a king,
and his descendants had no ambition to be similarly curtailed of their
natural proportions. Francis Seymour wrote to his uncle, the Earl of
Hertford, then distant from London, telling the story of the flight of
his brother and the lady. This letter still exists, and its appearance
indicates the terror into which it threw the earl. It reached him at
midnight. With it came a summons to attend the privy council. He read it
apparently by the light of a taper, and with such agitation that the
sheet caught fire. The scorched letter still exists, and is burnt
through at the most critical part of its story. The poor old earl
learned enough to double his terror, and lost the section that would
have alleviated it. He hastened up to London in a state of doubt and
fear, not knowing but that he was about to be indicted for high
treason.
Meanwhile, what had become of the disconsolate Lady Arabella? The poor
bride found herself alone upon the seas, mourning for her lost Seymour,
imploring her attendants to delay, straining her eyes in hopes of seeing
some boat bearing to her him she so dearly loved.
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