“This you have said before, my lord,” rejoined Elizabeth, struggling against her emotion. “And if you had not, it is too late to say it now.”
“Your pardon, dearest Elizabeth,” rejoined Courtenay, “for such you will ever be to me. I know I do not deserve your forgiveness. But I know, also, that I shall not the less on that account obtain it. Hear the truth from me, and judge me as you think proper. Since I knew that I had gained an interest in your eyes, I never could love your sister. Her throne had no longer any temptation for me—her attachment inspired me with disgust. You were, and still are, the sole possessor of my heart,”
“Still ARE! my lord,” exclaimed Elizabeth, indignantly. “And you are about to wed the queen. Say no more, or my pity for you will be changed into contempt.”
“It is my fate,” replied the earl. “Oh! if you knew what the struggle has cost me, to sacrifice love at the shrine of ambition, you would indeed pity me.”
“My lord,” said Elizabeth, proudly, “if you have no respect for me, at least have some for yourself, and cease these unworthy lamentations.”
“Tell me you no longer love me—tell me you despise—hate me, anything to reconcile myself to my present lot,” cried Courtenay.
“Were I to say I no longer loved you, I should belie my heart,” rejoined Elizabeth; “for, unfortunately for my peace of mind, I have formed a passion which I cannot conquer. But were I also to say that your abject conduct does not inspire me with contempt—with scorn for you, I should speak falsely. Hear me, in my turn, my lord. To-morrow, I shall solicit permission from the queen to retire from the court altogether, and I shall not return till my feelings towards yourself are wholly changed.”
“Say not so,” cried Courtenay. “I will forego all the brilliant expectations held out to me by Mary. I cannot endure to part with you.”
“You have gone too far to retreat, my lord,” said Elizabeth. “You are affianced to my sister.”
“Not so,” replied Courtenay, “and I never will be. When I came hither, it was to implore your forgiveness, and to take leave of you for ever. But I find that wholly impossible. Let us fly from this fortress, and find either in a foreign land, or in some obscure corner of this kingdom, a happiness, which a crown could not confer.”
As he pronounced these words with all the ardour of genuine passion, he pressed her hand to his lips. Elizabeth did not withdraw it.
“Save me from this great crime,” he cried; “save me from wedding one whom I have never loved; save me from an union which my soul abhors.”
“Are you sincere?” asked Elizabeth, much moved.
“On my soul I am,” replied Courtenay fervently. “Will you fly with me—this night—this hour—now?”
“I will answer that question,” cried a voice, which struck them both as if a thunderbolt had fallen at their feet. “I will answer that question,” cried Mary, forcibly throwing aside the arras and gazing at them with eyes that literally seemed to flash fire, “she will not.”
“Had I not heard this with my own ears,” she continued in a terrible tone, addressing her faithless lover, who still remained in a kneeling posture, regarding her with a look of mingled shame and defiance, “had I not heard this with my own ears, and seen it with my own eyes, I could not have believed it! Perfidious villain! you have deceived us both. But you shall feel what it is to incur the resentment of a queen, and that queen the daughter of Henry the Eighth. Come in, sir,” she added to some one behind the arms, and Simon Renard immediately stepped forth. “As I owe the discovery of the Earl of Devonshire’s perfidy to you, the least I can do is to let you witness his disgrace.”
“I will not attempt to defend myself, gracious madam,” said Courtenay, rising.
“Defend yourself!” echoed the queen, bitterly. “Not a word of your conversation to the princess has escaped my ears. I was there—behind that curtain—almost as soon as you entered her chamber. I was acquainted with your treachery by this gentleman. I disbelieved him. But I soon found he spoke the truth. A masked staircase enabled me to approach you unobserved. I have heard all—all, traitor, all.”