“Please it you, Mistress!” said Ursula’s voice at the chamber door, where Isoult sat sewing.
“Well, Ursula?” replied her mistress.
“Mistress Holland would have speech of you, Mistress,” said she.
Of course Isoult supposed her visitor to be Roger Holland’s wife, and thanked God in her heart that she was better off than Bessy; but she came down into the chamber—not to see Bessy. On another face her eyes lighted, and a cry of gladness broke from her.
“What, Annis!”
When the first welcomings were over, and they sat down again, Isoult thought she saw a grave, sad look on Annis’ face that was not wont to be there.
“I trusted to have seen thee home ere this, dear Annis,” she said, “for we heard that the Queen thy mistress was dead, and I thought thou wouldst not be like to tarry yonder.”
“Ay,” she said, sadly. “She is gone to God; and laud be to Him for it! No, Isoult, I had no mind to abide there.”
She shuddered, as with very horror, so that Isoult answered—“Methinks, sweet heart, thy Lord Marquis of Denia could be no worser than Bishop Gardiner.”
“There be eviller things in Spain than even he is,” said she, and shook her head.