“This is the first time in my life,” replied the old knight, “that I have hesitated to obey your majesty. And if I do so now, I beseech you to impute it to the right motive.”
“How, sir!” cried the Queen fiercely. “Do you desire to make me regret that I have removed Sir John Gage? He would not have hesitated.”
“For your own sake, gracious madam,” said Sir Henry, falling on his knees before her, “I beseech you pause. I have been a faithful servant of your high and renowned father. Henry the Eighth—of your illustrious mother, Catherine of Arragon, who would almost seem,—from their pictures on that wall,—to be present now. In their names, I beseech you pause. I am well aware your feelings have been greatly outraged. But they may prompt you to do that which your calmer judgment may deplore.”
“Remonstrance is in vain,” rejoined the Queen. “I am inexorable. The Princess Elizabeth may remain a close prisoner in her own apartments. The Earl of Devonshire must be removed elsewhere. You will be answerable for their safe custody.”
“I will,” replied Bedingfeld, rising; “but I would that I had never lived to see this day!”
With this, he commanded his attendants to remove Courtenay, and when the order was obeyed, he lingered for a moment at the door, in the hope that the Queen would relent. But, as she continued immoveable, he departed with a sorrowful heart, and conveyed the Earl to his own lodgings.
Courtenay gone, Elizabeth’s proud heart gave way, and she burst into a hood of tears. As Mary saw this, a feeling of compassion crossed her, which Renard perceiving, touched her sleeve, and drew her away.
“It were better to leave her now,” he observed. Yielding to his advice, Mary was about to quit the room, when Elizabeth arose and threw herself at her feet.
“Spare him!” she cried.
“She thinks only of her lover,” thought the Queen; “those tears are for him. I will not pity her.”