living, not a dying person was to be executed: thus said the law.
They made a pallet for the countess on the scaffold and endeavored
to restore her; invigorating wine was supplied to the headsman, to
renew his strength for the work of death; and the crowd turned to
the stakes which were prepared on both sides of the scaffold, and at
which four other martyrs were to be burnt. But I flew here like a
hunted doe, and now, king, I lie at your feet. There is still time.
Pardon, king, pardon for the Countess of Somerset, the last of the
Plantagenets."

"Pardon, sire, pardon!" repeated Catharine Parr, weeping and
trembling, as she clung to her husband's side. "Pardon!" repeated
Archbishop Cranmer; and a few of the courtiers re-echoed it in a
timid and anxious whisper.

The king's large, brilliant eyes glanced around the whole assembly,
with a quick, penetrating look. "And you, my Lord Bishop Gardiner,"
asked he, in a cold, sarcastic tone, "will you also ask for mercy,
like all these weak-hearted souls here?"

"The Lord our God is a jealous God," said Gardiner, solemnly, "and
it is written that God will punish the sinner unto the third and
fourth generation."

"And what is written shall stand true!" exclaimed the king, in a
voice of thunder. "No mercy for evil-doers, no pity for criminals.
The axe must fall upon the head of the guilty, the flames shall
consume the bodies of criminals."

"Sire, think of your high vocation!" exclaimed Anne Askew, in a tone