“It is no pastime, Sir Henry,” replied the queen, sternly. “I little thought, when I entrusted you with the government of this fortress, how soon, and how importantly, you would have to exercise your office. Let the prisoners be placed in close confinement.”
“This is the first time in my life,” replied the old knight, “that I have hesitated to obey your majesty. And if I do so now, I beseech you to impute it to the right motive.”
“How sir!” cried the queen fiercely. “Do you desire to make me regret that I have removed Sir John Gage? He would not have hesitated.”
“For your own sake, gracious madam,” said Sir Henry, falling on his knees before her, “I beseech you pause. I have been a faithful servant of your high and renowned father, Henry the Eighth; of your illustrious mother, Catherine of Arragon, who would almost seem—from their pictures on that wall—to be present now. In their names, I beseech you, pause. I am well aware your feelings have been greatly outraged. But they may prompt you to do that which your calmer judgment may deplore.”
“Remonstrance is in vain,” rejoined the queen. “I am inexorable. The Princess Elizabeth may remain a close prisoner in her own apartments. The Earl of Devonshire must be removed elsewhere. You will be answerable for their safe custody.”
“I will,” replied Bedingfeld, rising; “but I would that I had never lived to see this day!”
With this, he commanded his attendants to remove Courtenay, and when the order was obeyed, he lingered for a moment at the door, in the hope that the queen would relent. But, as she continued immovable, he departed with a sorrowful heart, and conveyed the earl to his own lodgings.
Courtenay gone, Elizabeth’s proud heart gave way, and she burst into a flood of tears. As Mary saw this, a feeling of compassion crossed her, which Renard perceiving, touched her sleeve, and drew her away.
“It were better to leave her now,” he observed. Yielding to his advice, Mary was about to quit the room, when Elizabeth arose and threw herself at her feet.
“Spare him!” she cried.
“She thinks only of her lover,” thought the queen; “those tears are for him. I will not pity her.”
And she departed without returning an answer.
Having seen two halberdiers placed at the door of the chamber, and two others at the foot of the masked staircase by which she and Renard had approached, Mary proceeded with the ambassador to her own apartments.
On thinking over the recent occurrences, her feelings were so exasperated, that she exclaimed aloud, “Oh! that I could avenge myself on the perjured traitor.”
“I will show you how to avenge yourself,” replied Renard.
“Do so, then,” returned the queen.
“Unite yourself to my master, Philip of Spain,” rejoined the ambassador. “Your cousin, the emperor, highly desires the match. It will be an alliance worthy of you, and acceptable to your subjects. The prince is a member of your own religion, and will enable you to restore its worship throughout your kingdom.”
“I will think of it,” replied Mary, musingly.
“Better act upon it,” rejoined Renard. “The prince, besides his royal birth, is in all respects more richly endowed by nature than the Earl of Devonshire.”
“So I have heard him accounted,” replied Mary.
“Your majesty shall judge for yourself,” rejoined Renard, producing a miniature. “Here is his portrait. The likeness is by no means flattering.”
“He must be very handsome,” observed Mary, gazing at the miniature.
“He is,” replied Renard; “and his highness is as eager for the alliance as his imperial father. I have ventured to send him your majesty’s portrait, and you shall hear in what rapturous terms he speaks of it.”
And taking several letters from his doublet, he selected one sealed with the royal arms of Spain, from which he read several highly complimentary remarks on Mary’s personal appearance.
“Enough, sir,” said Mary, checking him. “More unions are formed from pique than from affection, and mine will be one of them. I am resolved to affiance myself to the Prince of Spain, and that forthwith. I will not allow myself time to change my mind.”