for a few moments lost in revery. She was seated in a great chair before the hearth, and there was much calm dignity and sadness in her whole aspect, but she was both unlovely and unattractive; a stout woman with a pale, large-featured face which ill health and trouble had aged before her time. Her expression was austere, and there were traces of deep sorrow and anxiety in the furrows that already marked her brow and the deep purple shadows under her dark eyes. Her gown was of black velvet, with large, flowing sleeves over small, straight ones, which had lace ruffles over the hands. On her head was a high, crownlike, five-cornered cap edged with jewels, two pieces falling down[50] from it over the ears, and at the back was fastened the Spanish mantilla, its graceful folds draping her shoulders and showing her face in strong relief against the black background. Behind her chair were grouped three ladies-in-waiting, and all bent curious glances on the young stranger. Mistress Betty’s blooming youth and brilliantly colored beauty had never shown to a more dazzling advantage than it did by contrast now, and Catherine herself, looking up from her revery, observed it and smiled sadly.

[50]

“Alas!” she said, “poor maid, this place is like to be no better than a tomb to one so young, albeit safer for your soul’s grace now than Greenwich. I have no entertainment, no masks, no dances to break the cold monotony. You may pray here, weep here, die here, but verily, you will have no revelry. If you but remember to be a woman, and bear a woman’s heart in your breast, as did your mother, you will find me no unkind mistress to you, though, God knows, an impoverished one. Wilt serve me on such terms as these?”

“Madam, I will do my duty, and I can no more,” Betty answered in a low tone, divided between her pity and her uncle’s instructions.

The queen smiled ironically. “Well tutored[51] in her ‘duty,’ doubtless,” she said, turning to her maids; “a cautious answer, aptly mouthed. But, pshaw! I grow a weak woman to be angered with a baby. The wench is tired, I know; these men take no thought for a woman’s strength, and doubtless she has ridden long and far. Take her away and find some place to bestow her, and to-morrow we will give some employment to her. Can you sing, Mistress Carew?” she added to Betty.

[51]

“I can both sing and play upon the harp, madam,” the young girl answered gravely, for Catherine’s words offended her, even though she felt the justice of the queen’s suspicions.

 Prev. P 24/169 next