And she watched him coldly, with disbelieving eyes.
A strangeness had come to her since the birth of her child. There was a fever upon her, and she who had so passionately longed for the child, seemed now to have forgotten its existence.
She lay listless, staring about her with eyes that seemed to see nothing, to have no interest in anyone or anything.
In vain her women tried to rouse her from this terrible lethargy.
“Your Majesty, look at the beautiful little girl. See, she has your eyes. That much is obvious already.”
But she did not answer. She lay there, staring before her as though it were another woman’s child they held out to her. Little Jane Grey came to her bedside, but she did not seem to know Jane.
“What ails her?” asked the little girl.
“By my faith,” said one of the women, “I fear she will die of her melancholy.”
The doctors came, but they could not rouse her. They could do nothing to disperse her fever.
A FEW DAYS AFTER the birth of the child, Thomas came into the bedchamber, his brow wrinkled, all jauntiness gone.
“Sweetheart,” he said, “how fares it with thee now?”
She did not answer him.
“Kate… my dearest Kate, it is Thomas. Look at me, my love. Smile at me. Tell me you love me.”
She turned her head from him.
She spoke suddenly, but not to Thomas. “Lady Tyrwhit,” she cried out, “is that you?”
Lady Tyrwhit, who had been in attendance since the birth of the child, came to the bedside. She knelt and took the Queen’s burning hand in hers.
“Lady Tyrwhit, I fear such things within me that I do not think I shall leave this bed.”
Thomas knelt and took her other hand. She turned her head to look at him, but she did not seem to recognize him.
“Lady Tyrwhit,” she continued, “I am not well-handled. Those about me care not for me. Oh, I am most unhappy, Lady Tyrwhit, because those I have loved, love me not. They mock me. They laugh at my love. Mayhap they laugh now at my grief. They wait for my death that they may be with others. The more good I do to them, the less good they would do to me.”
“Sweetheart, sweetheart!” cried Thomas. “I would do you no harm.”
She spoke to him then. “I do not think you speak the truth, my lord.”
“Kate… Kate… have you forgotten how we have loved?”
“No, my lord, but you have given me some very shrewd taunts. My Lady Tyrwhit, I do not think I shall live. I do not wish to live.”
The Admiral turned appealingly to Lady Tyrwhit. “How can I comfort her? How can I assure her of my devotion?”
Lady Tyrwhit was sorry for him, even while she remembered that his conduct with the Lady Elizabeth had brought his wife to this pass.
“I shall lie on the bed beside her,” he said. “I will pacify her. I will bring back her peace of mind. I will assure her…”
“Nay,” said Katharine. “It is over now. I shall die. There is no need for me to live longer.”
“What of the love you have for me?” he cried. “What of our child?”
But she looked bewildered, as though she did not know of what child he spoke.
“I will lie beside you, sweetheart,” he said.
“No,” she said fearfully. “No!”
“She must not be disturbed so,” said Lady Tyrwhit.
Thomas stood back, helpless, filled with wretchedness and remorse.
Katharine closed her eyes.
“Leave her to sleep,” said Lady Tyrwhit. “That will restore her peace of mind better than aught else.”
And Katharine lay, listening to the voices about her. She seemed to hear whispering voices everywhere. She seemed to see the flushed face of the youthful Princess and her husband’s eyes gleaming as they looked at the girl.
She thought she heard voices which told her that the rumors were true. He had wanted Elizabeth; Elizabeth was the greater prize; but he had accepted the Queen…temporarily.
Temporarily he had accepted the Queen. And later…he would take Elizabeth.
The voices went on and on in her imagination.
She no longer wished to live. She believed herself to be unloved and unwanted; and the tragedy was that, no matter what might happen in the future, no matter what assurances were made, she would never believe them. She could never believe in anything again.
She had set up an idol and worshipped it; she saw now that it had feet of clay.
