The Miracle at St. Bruno's

The child was named Carey which was a family name of the Remuses. Kate affected an indifference to him which I did not believe she really felt. She refused to feed him herself and a wet nurse came in-a plump rosy-cheeked girl who had enough milk and to spare for her own child when Carey had had his fill. Her name was Betsy and I said to Kate that it was a shameful thing that a country girl who had come as the child's wet nurse should show more affection for him than his own mother.

"He is too young for me yet," Kate excused herself. "When he grows older I shall be interested in him.”

"Such maternal instincts!" I mocked.

"Maternal instincts are for such as you," retorted Kate, "who doubtless has not a soul above feeding and cleaning infants.”

I loved the baby. I would nurse him whenever possible and young as he was I was sure he knew me. When he was crying I would rock him in his cradle and never fail to quieten him. Lord Remus used to smile at me.

"You should be a mother, Damask," he said.

I knew he was right. Being with little Carey made me long for a child of my own.

I thought I would like to take the boy home with me, for I said to Kate it was time I went home.

She raised a storm of protests. Why did I constantly talk of going home? Wasn't I content to be with her? What did I want? I only had to ask and she would see that it was brought to me.

I said I wanted to be with my father. He was missing me. Kate must remember that I only came to be with her until she had her child.

"The baby will miss you," said Kate slyly. "How shall we keep him quiet when you are not there to rock the cradle?”

"He'd rather have his mother.”

"No, he would not. He prefers you, which shows how clever he is. You're of much more use to him than I am.”

"You are a strange woman, Kate," I said.

"Would you have me ordinary?”

"No. But I should like you to be more natural with the child.”

"He is well cared for.”

"He needs caresses and to be made aware of love.”

"This boy will own all these lands. He's a very lucky baby. He'll soon grow out of the need for caresses and baby talk when he sees this grand estate.”

"Then he will be like his mother.”

"Which," said Kate, "is not such a bad thing to be.”

So we bantered and enjoyed each other's company. I knew that she sought every pretext to keep me there and I was delighted that this should be so. As for myself I thought often of my father and were it not for him I should have been contented enough to stay. I guessed that he must have missed me sorely and now that Kate had her boy, I thought he would write urging me come back; but his letters to me were accounts of home affairs and there was no urgent request for me to return.

I was a little piqued by this, which was foolish of me; I might have known there was a reason.

Little Carey was a month old. My mother wrote that she had heard that a fruit called the cherry had been brought into the country and had been planted in Kent. Could I please try to find out if this was so? And she had also heard that the King's gardener had introduced apricots into his gardens and they were prospering well. She would so like to hear if this was the case. Perhaps some of the people who visited Remus Castle and who came from the Court would be able to tell something about these exciting projects.

The people who came from the Court did not talk of apricots. There was about them all a furtive air; they lowered their voices when they talked but they could not deny themselves the pleasure of discussing the King's affairs.

The King was determined to rid himself of Anne of Cleves. Cromwell, who had made the marriage, was going to unmake it.

I thought of him often in his prison in the Tower-his fate was not unlike that of the great Cardinal, only his lacked the dignity. The Cardinal had had the King's affection and had died before the ignominy of the Tower and death there could overtake him. I was filled with pity for these men-even Cromwell-and no matter how much I remembered that terrible time when the Abbey had been defiled and violence and misery had prevailed, still I felt pity for the man who had climbed so high only to fall.

I heard now that Cromwell had been forced to reveal conversations which he had had with the King on the morning after the wedding night. During these conversations the King had made it perfectly clear that the marriage had not been consummated.

'Cromwell has admitted," so said one of our visitors, "that the King told him he found the lady so far from his taste that nothing could induce him to consummate the marriage. If she were a maid when she came, so Cromwell assures us the King said to him, then His Majesty had left her as she was when she came, though as for her virginity, His Majesty was inclined to doubt that she was in possession of such a virtue when she arrived. Now Parliament will bring in a bill to declare that the marriage is null and void and that if a marriage has not been consummated this is a ground for divorce.”