“It is false!” cried Mary, furiously. “You love the princess, my sister.”
Courtenay turned very pale. But he instantly recovered himself.
“Your highness is mistaken,” he answered.
“What!” cried the queen, her anger increasing each moment. “Dare you persist in the denial of your falsehood? Dare you tell me to my face that you have not breathed words of passion to her? Dare you assert that you have not lamented your engagement to me? Dare you say this?”
“I dare, madam.”
“Then your own words shall give you the lie, traitor,” replied the queen. “Here is your letter to her,” she added, producing a paper, “wherein you tell her so.”
“Confusion!” uttered Courtenay, “Renard has betrayed me.”
“Is this letter your writing?” demanded the queen.
“I will not prevaricate, madam,” replied Courtenay; “it is.”
“And in the face of this you declare you have not deceived me?”
“I have deceived you, gracious madam,” replied Courtenay. “But I have never ceased to love you.”
“My lord!—my lord!” exclaimed Mary, in a menacing tone. “Beware how you attempt to deceive me further, or as God shall judge me, you shall find that the daughter of Henry the Eighth is not to be offended with impunity.”
“I know you are terrible in anger, gracious madam,” replied Courtenay; “but you are also just. Judge me, condemn me, if you please, but hear me. He who gave you that letter, Simon Renard, counselled me to write it.”
“Ha!” exclaimed the queen.
“I have been guilty of folly—madness—” rejoined Courtenay, “but not the black perfidy your highness imagines. Dismiss me from your presence, send me into exile—I deserve any punishment—but do not believe that I have ceased to love you.”
“I know not what you term love, my lord,” replied Mary; “but I have no idea of sharing the affection of any man with another. Grant, however, that you speak the truth, why have you addressed this passionate epistle to the Princess Elizabeth?”
“I have already said I was deceived,” replied Courtenay. “I cannot excuse my conduct, though I lament it.”
“Are you sincere?” said Mary, who began to be softened by her lover’s apparent penitence.
“By what oath shall I confirm my truth?” he replied, fervently.
“I will test it more surely,” rejoined the queen, as if struck by a sudden idea.
“In any way your highness thinks proper,” returned Courtenay.
“Summon the Princess Elizabeth to our presence instantly,” said Mary, striking a small bell, the sound of which brought an usher before her.
“The Princess Elizabeth!” exclaimed Courtenay.
“Ay, the princess,” repeated the queen. “I will confront you with her. Bid the lord chancellor and the ambassadors of Spain and France attend us,” she continued to the usher.
“I know not what your highness intends,” said Courtenay, as the attendant departed. “But I will die rather than do aught to prejudice the princess.”
“I doubt it not, my lord,” rejoined Mary, bitterly. “But though I cannot punish the perfidy of a lover, I can the disobedience of a subject. If you refuse to obey my commands, you will take the consequences.”
Courtenay bit his lips to repress the answer that rose to them.
In a few minutes the usher returned and announced the Princess Elizabeth, as well as Gardiner, Renard, and De Noailles. Instantly perceiving how matters stood, the imperial ambassador deemed his own triumph complete, and Courtenay’s disgrace certain.
“My lord,” said Mary, addressing Gardiner, “it is no secret to you, neither to you, M. Renard, nor to you, M. De Noailles, that of all those proposed to me in marriage—the Princes of Spain and Portugal, the King of the Romans, Cardinal Pole, and others—I have preferred this man, whom I myself have raised to the rank he now holds, and enriched with the estates he enjoys.”
“We know it, gracious madam,” replied Gardiner, alarmed at the ominous commencement, “and we think your highness has made a happy choice, and one most acceptable to your subjects. Do we not, M. Renard?”
The ambassador bowed, but said nothing.
“The alliance is in all respects agreeable to my sovereign, Henry the Second of France,” observed De Noailles.
“What then if I inform you,” pursued Mary, “that the Earl of Devonshire has rejected my proposal? What if he has broken his oath of fidelity? What if he has cast aside the crown offered him, and smitten by the charms of a youthful beauty, abandoned the queen, who has stooped to raise him to her throne!”