A slight incident occurred, which occasioned a departure from the
prudent course she had laid down to herself.
Accompanied by her dames, she was traversing the great gallery of the
palace at Greenwich, when she caught the reflection of Jane Seymour,
who was following her, in a mirror, regarding a jewelled miniature. She
instantly turned round at the sight, and Jane, in great confusion, thrust
the picture into her bosom.
"Ah I what have you there?" cried Anne.
"A picture of my father, Sir John Seymour," replied Jane, blushing
deeply.
"Let me look at it," cried Anne, snatching the picture from her. "Ah! call
you this your father? To my thinking it is much more like my royal
husband. Answer me frankly, minion--answer me, as you value your life!
Did the king give you this?"
"I must decline answering the question," replied Jane, who by this time
had recovered her composure.
"Ah! am I to be thus insolently treated by one of my own dames?" cried
Anne.
"I intend no disrespect to your majesty," replied Jane, "and I will, since
you insist upon it, freely confess that I received the portrait from the
king. I did not conceive there could be any harm in doing so, because I
saw your majesty present your own portrait, the other day, to Sir Henry
Norris.
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