As Queen now she once more turned to Ursula. Justice in her demanded that every wrong should be righted, every misdoer punished.
"Child," she said quietly, "it was not you then who was with Don Miguel?"
"No, Your Majesty," replied Ursula, returning to earth at sound of the Queen's kindly voice, "Lady Alicia tells me that a girl . . . a poor, sad girl, was in face so like to me . . . that His Grace must have been mistaken . . . and . . ."
"But, child . . . then why have told a lie? . . ."
"His Eminence told me what to say before the Court, and promised His Grace would be saved by it."
Her voice dropped to so low a murmur that no one heard it but the Queen . . . and Wessex.
"I did it to save him!"
"A lie, Your Majesty," protested the Cardinal.
"The truth!" protested Ursula loudly. "I pray Your Majesty to look on me and him and see on whose face is writ the word—fear."
Almost as if in obedience to Ursula's words Mary Tudor turned and faced the Spanish Cardinal. He tried to meet her look boldly. Even in defeat there was a certain grandeur in this man.