“Per dio! it would be vexatious to lose so rich a prize. Not only does her Majesty commend herself to your Lordship by her beauty, her exalted rank, and her many noble qualities, but also by her rich dower and her store of jewels. As to the latter I myself can speak, for I have seen the inventory—such balaces of emeralds and rubies—such flowers and crosses of diamonds—such chains of gold and brooches—such tablets of gold and girdles—such rings, bracelets, and carcanets—enough to make one’s mouth water. ‘Twould be a pity, I repeat, to lose a queen with such a dower, and such jewels.”
“She must not be lost! I will about the affair at once. Thou shalt aid me to make a slight change in my attire—for I would produce the best possible impression upon her Majesty—and I will then ascertain my fate. Who knows? The marriage may take place sooner than we anticipate.”
“Were it to take place this very day, it would not be too soon, monsignore.”
Seymour laughed, but made no reply. Having completed his toilette to his satisfaction, he repaired to the queen-dowager’s apartments. He was detained for a short time in the ante-chamber, but when admitted into the inner room by a gentleman usher, he found Catherine alone. She was attired in black velvet, which set off her superb person and fair complexion to the greatest advantage, and wore a diamond-shaped head-dress, richly ornamented with pearls, with a carcanet round her throat. Never had she looked more captivating.
Seymour’s reception was quite as favorable as he had expected—far more so than he merited. But Catherine, though strong-minded, was but a woman. She listened to his protestations of repentance, his vows, his professions of unalterable fidelity—and forgave him. Nay more, when he urged the necessity of a clandestine union, she seemed half disposed to assent to it. Emboldened by his success, Seymour resolved to bring the matter to the immediate issue suggested by his esquire.
“Why should our happiness be longer delayed?” he urged. “Why should not our marriage take place this very night—here in the Tower—in Saint Peter’s Chapel?”
“Impossible!” exclaimed Catherine.
“Nay, the thing is quite possible, and only wants your consent to its fulfilment. The chaplain of the Tower will unite us. We shall then be secure against all danger, and may defy our enemies.”
“But this is too sudden, Seymour. I cannot prepare myself in so short a time.”
“No preparation is needed,” he cried. “Decision only is required, and you have decided in my favor, that I feel, my queen!” And throwing himself at her feet, he pressed her hand passionately to his lips. “Why should we trust to the future when the present is ours?” he continued, fervently. “To-morrow, unforeseen obstacles and difficulties may arise. Let us seize upon happiness while it is yet within our reach.”
“It is very hasty!” murmured Catherine, but in a tone that showed she meant to yield.
“It seems so; but since we cannot control circumstances, we must bend to them. To-night! let it be to-night, Catherine!”
The queen consented. Her judgment was not blinded. She knew the imprudence of the step she was about to take. She knew the character of the man who sought her hand. Yet she agreed to a sudden and secret marriage with him. Her love overmastered her discretion. Some excuse may be found for her in the resistless manner and extraordinary personal attractions of her suitor. Few of her sex would have come off scathless from the ordeal to which she was subjected. Seymour seemed created to beguile, and on this occasion his power of fascination certainly did not desert him. As he arose from his kneeling posture, with a countenance flushed with triumph, he looked so superbly handsome that it was impossible to regard him without admiration.
“Heaven forgive me if I have done wrong in thus yielding!” cried Catherine. “My heart fails me, yet I must go on. I trust all my happiness to you, Seymour. Do not again deceive me!”
“Have no misgiving, Catherine,” he rejoined. “My life shall be devoted to you.”
It was then arranged that Catherine should attend vespers in Saint Peter’s Chapel that evening. She was to be accompanied by Lady Herbert, Seymour’s sister, who, as we have seen, was devoted to her brother, and on whom entire reliance could be placed. Seymour also would be in the chapel with the Marquis of Dorset, on whose aid he could count, and Ugo Harrington. When vespers were over, and the chapel cleared, the doors could be locked, and the marriage securely accomplished. No difficulty was apprehended in regard to the chaplain. Seymour undertook to secure his services on the occasion, and subsequent silence, so long as secrecy was required. This arrangement being assented to by the queen, with fresh protestations of devotion Seymour took his departure, greatly elated by his success.