princess dowager. It [83] “Poor lady!” Exeter said, “there is little need of all this watch and ward; if I be not mistaken, there cometh soon a guest which no bars shall keep out and no privy council examine.” “Ay, so it looks,” Bedingfield replied, “and yet I know not; she hath been ailing long, but seems to fight her malady as steadfastly as she did the divorce.” “A gallant heart,” my lord of Exeter replied, “but she will die. Her eye looks it and her dull and yellowish hue betrays it. ’Tis no place here either to stir the laggard blood in her veins; she is a Spaniard, and this sharp[84] weather suits her as little as our northern temperaments. The end of a great sorrow draweth nigh.” [84] So spoke the marquis, and Betty, hearing him, felt a chill at her heart. The gloomy life had weighed upon her, and she fell often into meditations which were full of dim foreboding. The wizard’s tale had stolen into her brain and found a lodgment there, and she dreaded something, what she knew not. Youth is fanciful, and sees either a flood of sunshine on the path or a thick cloud. While the shadows without lengthened into night, Betty sat alone; and then there was a soft footfall behind her, and Patience came to summon her to the queen. Something in the woman’s face betrayed that the call was unusual, and Mistress Carew was yet more surprised when she found herself alone with Catherine, who sat propped up in her chair, a rosary in her hands and her black mantilla shading her features even more than usual. The lights were so arranged that her face was in the gloom, and it was impossible to see her expression. “My visitors are still below, as I hear, Mistress Betty,” she said quietly, “and I would ask you to do an errand for me. Here is a little packet which, I pray you, give my lord[85] of Exeter from the queen. These gentlemen will look askance at my own poor maids, but you, my child, are in favor with the powers that be.” [85] Betty stood a moment irresolute, her heart beating high. The hour had come for her to show herself worthy of her uncle’s confidence. She could not deceive herself about the packet; it was the same which the wizard had let fall a few weeks before. She was silent, her eyes
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