“Declare, my lord,” pursued Mary, addressing Courtenay, “in the presence of these gentlemen, in that of our sister—rival we ought to say,—that you have deceived her, and, though your conduct may have misled her,—have never swerved from your devotion to ourself.”
While the Queen pronounced these words, Renard’s keen glance wandered from Courtenay to Elizabeth. The latter was violently agitated, and seemed to await the Earl’s answer as if her fate hung upon it.
“Do you assert this, my lord?” demanded Mary.
“Hesitate, and you are lost, and so is the Princess,” whispered De Noailles.
Before Courtenay could reply, Elizabeth fainted and would have fallen, if Renard had not flown to her assistance.
“Summon our maids of honour, and let her be instantly cared for,” said Mary, with a look of ill-disguised satisfaction. “My lord,” she added to Courtenay, “you are forgiven.”
The Earl hastily, and with some confusion, expressed his thanks, while, in obedience to the Queen’s mandate, Elizabeth was removed.
“And now, my lord,” said Mary to him, “I must pass from my own affairs to those of my kingdom. I will not detain you further—nor you, M. De Noailles. But I must crave your attendance, my lord, for a few minutes,” she added, turning to Gardiner, “and yours, M. Renard.”
“Your highness may always command my best counsel,” replied the latter, in a slightly sarcastic tone—“provided you will act upon it.”
“Farewell, my lord,” said Mary, extending her hand to Courtenay, which he pressed to his lips. “I shall walk upon the Tower Green in an hour, and shall expect you there.”