The Tower Of London by W. Harrison Ainsworth

“To play the eavesdropper was worthy of Simon Renard,” returned Courtenay, with a look of deadly hatred at the ambassador, “but scarcely, I think, befitting the Queen of England.”

“Where the Queen of England has unworthy persons to deal with, she must resort to unworthy means to detect them,” returned Mary. “I am deeply indebted to M. Renard for his service, more deeply than I can express. An hour more, and it had been too late. Had I affianced myself to you, I should have considered the engagement binding. As it is, I can unscrupulously break it. I am greatly beholden to you, sir.”

“I am truly rejoiced to be the instrument of preventing your majesty from entering into this degrading alliance,” said Renard. “Had it taken place, you would have unceasingly repented it.”

“For you, minion,” continued the queen, turning to Elizabeth, who had looked silently on, “I have more pity than anger. You have been equally his dupe.”

“I do not desire your highness’s pity,” rejoined the princess, haughtily. “Your own case is more deserving of compassion than mine.”

“Ah I God’s death! derided!” cried the queen, stamping her foot with indignation. “Summon the guard, M. Renard. I will place them both in confinement. Why am I not obeyed?” she continued, seeing the ambassador hesitated.

“Do nothing at this moment, I implore you, gracious madam,” said Renard, in a low voice. “Disgrace were better than imprisonment. You punish the earl sufficiently in casting him off.”

“Obey me, sir,” vociferated Mary, furiously, “or I will fetch the guard myself. An outraged woman may tamely submit to her wrongs; an outraged queen can revenge them. Heaven be thanked! I have the power to do so, as I have the will. Down on your knees, Edward Courtenay, whom I have made Earl of Devonshire, and would have made King of England—on your knees, I say. Now, my lord, your sword.”

“It is here,” replied the earl, presenting it to her, “and I entreat your majesty to sheathe it in my bosom.”

“His crime does not amount to high treason,” whispered Renard, “nor can your highness do more than disgrace him.”

“The guard! the guard, sir!” cried Mary, authoritatively.

“Our father, Henry the Eighth, whose lineaments frown upon us from that wall, had not authority for all he did. He was an absolute king, and we are absolute queen. Again, I say, the guard! and bid Sir Henry Bedingfeld attend us.”

“Your majesty shall be obeyed,” replied Renard, departing.

“Do with me what you please, gracious madam,” said Courtenay, as soon as they were alone. “My life is at your disposal. But, I beseech you, do not visit my faults upon the Princess Elizabeth. If your majesty tracked me hither, you must be well aware that my presence was as displeasing to her as it could be to yourself.”

“I will not be sheltered under this plea,” replied Elizabeth, whose anger was roused by her sister’s imperious conduct. “That the interview was unsought on my part, your highness well knows. But that I lent a willing ear to the Earl of Devonshire’s suit is equally true. And if your highness rejects him, I see nothing to prevent my accepting him.”

“This to my face!” cried Mary, in extremity of indignation.

“And wherefore not?” returned Elizabeth, maliciously.

“Anger me no further,” cried Mary, “or by my father’s soul! I will not answer for your head.” Her manner was so authoritative, and her looks so terrible, that even Elizabeth was awed.

“Again,” interposed Courtenay, humbly, “let me, who am the sole cause of your majesty’s most just displeasure, bear the weight of it. The Princess Elizabeth, I repeat, is not to blame.”

“I am the best judge in my own cause, my lord,” replied the queen. “I will not hear a word more.”

A deep silence then ensued, which was broken by the entrance of the lieutenant of the Tower and the guard. Renard brought up the rear.

“Sir Henry Bedingfeld,” said Mary, “I commit the Princess Elizabeth and the Earl of Devonshire to your custody.”

“I can scarcely credit my senses, gracious madam,” replied Bedingfeld, gazing at the offenders with much concern, “and would fain persuade myself it is only a part of the pastime I have so recently witnessed.”

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