Exactly at half-past nine the door of the room was opened, and Ursula Glynde walked in. The Cardinal rose from his seat and would have approached her, but she retreated a step or two as he came near and said coldly—
"'Tis Your Eminence who desired my presence?"
"And 'tis well that you came, my daughter," he replied kindly.
"I was commanded by Her Majesty to attend; I had not come of my own free will."
She spoke quietly but very stiffly, as one who is merely performing a social duty, without either pleasure or dislike. The Cardinal studied her face keenly, but obviously she had been told nothing by the Queen as to the precise object of this interview.
She looked pale and wan: there was a look of acute suffering round the childlike mouth, which would have seemed pathetic to any one save to this callous dissector of human hearts. Her eyes appeared unnaturally large, with great dilated pupils and dry eyelids. She was dressed in deep black, with a thick veil over her golden hair, which gave her a nunlike appearance, and altogether made her look older, and strangely different from the gay and girlish figure so full of life and animation which had been one of the brightest ornaments of old Hampton Court Palace. The Cardinal motioned her to a seat, which she took, then she waited with perfect composure until His Eminence chose to speak.
"My child," he said at last, bringing his voice down to tones of the greatest gentleness, "I would wish you to remember that it is an old man who speaks to you: one who has seen much of the world, learnt much, understood much. Will you try and trust him?"
"What does Your Eminence desire of me?" she rejoined coldly.
"Nay! 'tis not a question of desire, my daughter, I would merely wish to give you some advice."
"I am listening to Your Eminence."