At last it ended; and an “orator” in apparel of cloth of gold, spoke a kind of special epilogue in rhyming metre in praise of the Virgin Queen, and then retired bowing.
Immediately there was a general movement; the brass instruments began to blare out, and an usher at the door desired those who were blocking the way to step aside to make way for the Queen’s procession, which would shortly pass out. Anthony himself went outside with one or two more, and then stood aside waiting.
There was a pause and then a hush; and the sound of a high rating woman’s voice, followed by a murmur of laughter.
In a moment more the door was flung open again, and to Anthony’s surprise Mistress Corbet came rustling out, as the people stepped back to make room. Her eyes fell on Anthony near the door, and she beckoned him to follow, and he went down the corridor after her, followed her silently along a passage or two, wondering why she did not speak, and then came after her into the same little oak parlour where he had supped. A servant followed them immediately with lighted candles which he set down and retired.
Anthony looked at Mistress Corbet, and saw all across her pale cheek the fiery mark of the five fingers of a hand, and saw too that her eyes were full of tears, and that her breath came unevenly.
“It is no use to-night,” she said, with a sob in her voice; “her Grace is angry with me.”
“And, and——” began Anthony in amazement.
“And she struck me,” said Mary, struggling bravely to smile. “It was all my fault,”—and a bright tear or two ran down on to her delicate lace. “I was sitting near her Grace, and I could not keep my mind off poor James Maxwell; and I suppose I looked grave, because when the play was over, she beckoned me up, and—and asked how I liked it, and why I looked so solemn—for she would know—was it for Scipio Africanus, or some other man? And—and I was silent; and Alençon, that little frog-man burst out laughing and said to her Grace something—something shameful—in French—but I understood, and gave him a look; and her Grace saw it, and, and struck me here, before all the Court, and bade me begone.”
“Oh! it is shameful,” said Anthony, furiously, his own eyes bright too, at the sight of this gallant girl and her humiliation.
“You cannot stay here, Mistress Corbet. This is the second time at least, is it not?”