He wanted to humble her; he wished to compel her to bow before him, and implore his love as a gracious gift.
He therefore bowed low to the princess, and respectfully said: “Your highness, it is true I have often besought you for an audience; but you have so long refused me, that at last I could no longer summon up courage to solicit it; and I let my wish be silent and my heart dumb. Therefore seek not now, when these pains have been subdued, to excite them again. My heart should remain dead, my lips mute. You have so willed; and I have submitted to your will. Farewell, then, princess, and may your days be happier and more serene than those of poor Thomas Seymour!”
He bowed low before her, and then went slowly to the door. He had already opened it and was about to step out, when a hand was suddenly laid on his shoulder and drew him with vehement impetuosity back into the room.
“Do you want to go?” asked Elizabeth, with fluttering breath and trembling voice. “You want to leave me, and, flouting me, you want now, it may be, to go to the Duchess of Richmond, your mistress, and relate to her with a sneer that the Princess Elizabeth granted you an interview, and that you have flouted her?”
“The Duchess of Richmond is not my mistress,” said the earl, earnestly.
“No, not your mistress; but she will very soon be your wife!”
“She will never be my wife!”
“And why not?”
“Because I do not love her, princess.”
A beam of delight passed over Elizabeth’s pale, agitated face. “Why do you call me princess?” asked she.