“I am here by the king’s commands,” replied Elizabeth. “I am but newly returned from Hatfield. His majesty was resolved, it seems, that I should be present at your fête.”
“I am greatly beholden to him,” replied Seymour. “I did not deem my revel would be so richly graced. Will it please you to walk on, and see the rooms?”
“Right willingly,” the king replied. “You term your revel a ‘poor supper,’ gentle uncle. To my mind, ’tis a very goodly entertainment. We could scarce match it. What think you of the assembly, Elizabeth?”
“‘Tis very splendid,” she replied. “You have princely notions, my lord admiral.”
“I once had,” he rejoined, in a low tone, “but they are gone.” While Edward was gracefully acknowledging the obeisances of those who respectfully drew back to allow him passage, his eye suddenly alighted on the Marchioness of Dorset and her daughter, and the color mounted to his cheeks.
“That should be the Lady Jane Grey!” he exclaimed. “I did not expect to meet her.”
“I will not pretend that I meditated a surprise for your Majesty,” replied the admiral, smiling; “but I am right glad that my Lord of Dorset’s return from Bradgate has enabled me to include his daughter among my guests.”
“By our Lady! I am right glad, too,” rejoined the king.
At a sign from the admiral, the Marquis of Dorset here advanced, and, with a profound obeisance, presented the marchioness and his youthful daughter to the king. As the latter made a lowly reverence to him, Edward raised her, and detaining her hand as he spoke, said:
“We looked to pass a pleasant evening with our uncle, but it will be pleasanter far than we expected, since it is graced by your presence, fair cousin.”
“Your Majesty is too good,” she replied, blushing deeply.
“Nay, you must stay with us,” cried Edward, detaining her. “We cannot part with you so soon. But it may be you desire to dance?”
“I never dance, my liege,” replied Jane. “It is a pastime in which I care not to indulge.”
“Perchance you object to it?” said Edward, looking inquiringly at her.
“Not exactly,” she rejoined; “but I hold it to be somewhat vain and frivolous.”
“I do not think I will dance again,” said Edward.
“A very praiseworthy resolution, sire!” cried the admiral; “but I hope you will not interdict such of your less seriously inclined subjects as may see no harm in it from indulging in the recreation. May I venture to claim your Highness’s hand for the couranto which is just about to commence?” he added to Elizabeth.
“I will dance the couranto with you with pleasure, my lord,” replied the princess. “I have a passion for it.”
And she accorded her hand to the admiral, who led her towards the middle of the room, while the hautboys struck up, and they were soon engaged in the animated dance. Elizabeth danced with remarkable grace, as did the admiral, and their performance excited universal admiration. At its close, Seymour, unable to resist the witchery still exercised over him by the princess, led her towards a side chamber, where they could converse without interruption.
“Have you quite forgiven me, princess?” he said.
“Oh yes,” she replied, with a forced laugh. “I have forgotten what passed between us.”
“Would I could forget it!” cried Seymour. “But I have been properly punished. I did not deserve the happiness which might have been mine.”
“Do not renew the subject, my lord,” said Elizabeth. “You never loved me!”
“Never loved you!” he exclaimed, passionately. And then suddenly checking himself, he added, “You do me an injustice, princess. I loved you only too well.”
“If I could believe this, I might forgive you,” she said. “But your subsequent conduct has been inexplicable. You have attempted no explanation—have sent me no letter.”
“I thought explanation would be unavailing—that you had cast me off forever,” rejoined Seymour, in a troubled tone.
“But at least the attempt might have been made,” she said, in a tone of pique. “You could not tell what might happen till you tried.”
“Do you, then, give me a hope?” he cried, rapturously. “But I forget myself,” he added, moodily.