be bent on mischief, yet there was no reasonable excuse to refuse him admittance to the queen’s presence. The fact that he had not petitioned for it was in his[71] favor and Bedingfield knew well enough that the poor women in his charge were sadly in need of some small diversion. Catherine had done wisely to choose Betty Carew for her messenger; the wistful expression on the young girl’s fresh face went far toward prevailing with Sir Edmund. After a few moments of hesitation, he despatched one of his own gentlemen with the wizard, to conduct him to the queen and remain in attendance during the interview, at the same time bidding Betty go before to warn the little court that the request was granted.

[70]

[71]

Mistress Carew sped on her errand with the swift feet of youth, and before the wizard and his escort had reached the top of the stair, she had entered the queen’s room. As she lifted the curtain at the door, something in the scene within arrested her attention. Catherine sat more erect than usual, and her three maids were gathered about her talking in low tones; there was an animation in their looks so unusual that Betty thought in an instant that there was some new interest in the air, some scheme afoot. At the sight of her, however, the habitual expressions came back to their faces, and Catherine received her announcement with her usual manner.

[72]“I have no royal robes to assume,” she said, in a tone of bitterness, “but truly there must be some state with which to hold our levee. Come, my girls, stand around me, arrange the log upon the hearth, move yonder fire-screen; the Queen of England will receive the wizard Sanders!”

[72]

“Madam, the jest is bitter,” replied Patience, sadly; “spare us—who so bemoan your case—the sharp edge of your wit, whereby the loss of your high estate is in no manner redeemed. You are still our gracious sovereign lady, and so would be were you an outcast from this realm which hath so uncharitably used you.”

“I thank you, wench,” Catherine replied, her face softening at the expression of her attendant’s devotion; “you teach the queen to bear herself more worthily. Ah, good Patience, you know not how deep the wound corrodes my lonely heart. Albeit a queen, and the daughter of a king, I am yet a woman, and a woman’s heart doth crave a little tenderness,—a little love,—a little shelter, or else, God wot, it starves!”

All her attendants 

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