“What would you with me?” demanded Mary. “I have acceded to this interview in consideration of your voluntary submission. But be brief. I have important business before me, and my heart is steeled to tears and supplications.”
“Say not so, gracious madam,” rejoined Jane. “A woman’s heart can never be closed to the pleadings of the unfortunate of her own sex, still less the heart of one so compassionate as your highness. I do not sue for myself.”
“For whom, then?” demanded the queen.
“For my husband,” replied Jane.
“I am about to sign his death-warrant,1’ replied Mary, in a freezing tone.
“I will not attempt to exculpate him, madam,” returned Jane, restraining her emotion by a powerful effort, “for his offence cannot be extenuated. Nay, I deplore his rashness as much as your highness can condemn it. But I am well assured that vindictiveness is no part of your royal nature—that you disdain to crush a fallen foe—and that, when the purposes of justice are answered, no sentiments but those of clemency will sway your bosom. I myself, contrary to my own wishes, have been the pretext for the late insurrection, and it is right I should suffer, because while my life remains, your highness may not feel secure. But my husband has no claims, pretended or otherwise, to the throne, and when I am removed, all fear of him will be at an end. Let what I have done speak my sincerity. I could have escaped to France, if I had chosen. But I did not choose to accept safety on such terms. Well knowing with whom I had to deal—knowing also that my life is of more importance than my husband’s, I have come to offer myself for him. If your highness has any pity for me, extend it to him, and heap his faults on my head.”
“Jane,” said Mary, much moved—“you love your husband devotedly.”
“I need not say I love him better than my life, madam,” replied Jane, “for my present conduct will prove that I do so. But I love him so well, that even his treason to your highness, to whom he already owes his life, cannot shake it. Oh, madam! as you hope to be happy in your union with the Prince of Spain—as you trust to be blessed with a progeny which shall continue on the throne of this kingdom—spare my husband—spare him for my sake.”
“For your sake, Jane, I would spare him,” replied Mary, in a tone of great emotion, “but I cannot.”
“Cannot, madam!” cried Jane—“you are an absolute queen, and who shall say you nay? Not your council—not your nobles—not your people—not your own heart. Your majesty can and will pardon him. Nay, I read your gracious purpose in your looks. You will pardon him, and your clemency shall do more to strengthen your authority than the utmost severity could do.”