When I was sixteen, and he tendered me
marriage with a Scotch lord, I, who loved the gentleman not, never
having seen him, prayed the King to take the value of my marriage
and leave me my freedom. He was so good to me then that the
Scotch lord was wed elsewhere, and I danced at the wedding with
a mind at ease. Time passed, and the King was still my very good
lord. Then, one black day, my Lord Carnal came to court, and the
King looked at him oftener than at his Grace of Buckingham. A
few months, and my lord's wish was the King's will. To do this
new favorite pleasure he forgot his ancient kindness of heart; yea,
and he made the law of no account. I was his kinswoman, and
under my full age; he would give my hand to whom he chose. He
chose to give it to my Lord Carnal."
She broke off, and turned her face from me toward the slant
sunshine without the window. Thus far she had spoken quietly,
with a certain proud patience of voice and bearing; but as she
stood there in a silence which I did not break, the memory of her
wrongs brought the crimson to her cheeks and the anger to her
eyes. Suddenly she burst forth passionately: "The King is the King!
What is a subject's will to clash with his? What weighs a woman's
heart against his whim? Little cared he that my hand held back,
grew cold at the touch of that other hand in which he would have
put it.
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