“But time went on,” said Wyllys Wynn.
“Yes, time went on, and the maiden Queen grew old as all mortals must, and there came a time when her vanity could no longer be deceived. She sought to keep from sight the white hairs and wrinkles of age by every art, but Nature did its work, as with Canute and the sea. When her form and features began to lose whatever of beauty they once possessed, she tried to banish from her mind the reality that she was past her prime by viewing herself in false and flattering mirrors.
“But the wrinkles grew deeper, and the white hairs multiplied, and her limbs lost their power, and her strength at last was gone. Her flatterers still fed her fondness for admiration with their arts, and while life offered her any prospect she still smiled upon those whom she must have suspected were deceiving her.
“‘One day,’ says her attendant, Lady Southwell, ‘she desired to see a true glass, which in twenty years before she had not seen, but only such an one as on purpose was made to deceive her sight.’
“They brought it to the poor withered Queen. She raised it to her face with her bony hands, and looked. For the first time for years she saw herself.
“It was a revelation. Her old rage came back again. She pointed to her flatterers with scorn, and ordered them to quit her presence.
“Then came the Archbishop of Canterbury, disgracing his sacred office by his words. ‘Madam,’ said he, ‘your piety, your zeal, and the admirable work of the Reformation afford great grounds of confidence for you.’
“But the wretchedly disenchanted woman could no longer be deceived.
“‘My lord,’ she said, ‘the crown that I have borne so long has given me enough of vanity in my time. I beseech you not to augment it at this hour.’
“She had seen herself, and the world also, in the true glass.”