CHAPTER XXIV
CHECK TO THE KING
The colloquy between Mary Tudor and Ursula Glynde had probably not lasted more than a few minutes.
To Wessex it seemed as if years had elapsed since he had closed the door of the small inner room behind him, shutting out from his sight the beautiful vision which had filled his soul with gladness.
Years! during which he had learnt chapter by chapter, the history of woman's frailty and deceit. Now, he suddenly felt old, all the buoyancy had gone out of his life, and he was left worn and weary, with a millstone of shattered illusions hung around his neck.
It had come about so strangely.
She was not exquisite "Fanny," mysterious, elusive, after all. She was Lady Ursula Glynde.
Well! what mattered that?
The name first pronounced by the Queen's trenchant voice had grated harshly on his ear. Why?
At first he could not remember.