And quitting the choir, he entered the northern aisle, and casting his
eyes down the line of noble columns by which it is flanked, and seeing
no one, he concluded that the lady must have retired into the Urswick
Chapel. And so it proved; for on reaching this exquisite little shrine he
perceived a tall masked dame within it, clad in robes of the richest
black velvet. As he entered the chapel, the lady advanced towards
him, and throwing herself on her knees, removed her mask--disclosing
features stamped with sorrow and suffering, but still retaining an
expression of the greatest dignity. They were those of Catherine of
Arragon.
Uttering an angry exclamation, Henry turned on his heel and would
have left her, but she clung to the skirts of his robe.
"Hear me a moment, Henry--my king--my husband--one single moment--
hear me!" cried Catherine, in tones of such passionate anguish that he
could not resist the appeal.
"Be brief, then, Kate," he rejoined, taking her hand to raise her.
"Blessings on you for the word! "cried the queen, covering his hand with
kisses. "I am indeed your own true Kate - your faithful, loving, lawful
wife!"
Rise, madam!" cried Henry coldly; "this posture beseems not Catherine
of Arragon.
Pages:
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309