mistress, follow me to the princess; there is no place to bestow you until I know her wishes, and ’tis best to cut a long matter short.” “I would make some changes in my garments,” Mistress Betty said quietly, “before I go to—to her grace.” “There is no need,” Sir Edmund replied, with evident impatience to have an unpleasant task accomplished; “you may lay aside your cloak in the antechamber while I learn her highness’s wishes in the matter, and so end it.” Without more words, he turned to the staircase and began the ascent, and after one glance at her uncle to ascertain his wishes, Betty followed with a heavy heart. She was not without[44] a little thrill of excitement at the thought of seeing this unhappy queen, and there was, too, all a young girl’s curiosity and eagerness for adventure, but she dreaded a cold reception, knowing so well how unwelcome she was likely to be, sent, as she was, by one whom the poor woman must regard as her greatest enemy. So in a tumult of contrary emotions Mistress Betty walked down the gloomy, ill-lighted corridor, behind the castellan, mentally contrasting this dull place with Mohun’s Ottery. They were not to gain admittance without some parley; the queen allowed no intercourse with the royal officers stationed about her by the king. She lived among her own people, and Bedingfield had to crave permission to speak with her. Finally, a page admitted them into a small anteroom, where Betty was told to wait and lay aside her mantle. There was a closed door opposite to the one at which they had entered, and from behind it came the sound of voices engaged in conversation, which was hushed as Bedingfield opened the door and passed through. Betty knew that he was going into the presence of the queen, and she stood listening with anxiety. She heard a woman’s voice address him at once; the cold dignity of the tone and the[45] slightly foreign accent made her sure of the identity of the speaker. [44] [45] “What tidings, Sir Edmund?” she asked; “my maids tell me there is a stir below, and truly we long for any change; ay, almost welcome evil rather than the dull monotony of suspense.” “No news, madam,” replied Bedingfield; “only a messenger from my lord privy seal and—” “Alack, alack!” cried Catherine, hastily, “I did not speak sooth; news from that quarter is ill news indeed. If it had been from the king’s highness—but that comes no more to me.”
Prev.
Back
Top