"If your own heart, I say, tell you not," said Catherine, gently
disengaging her hand, "it is very ungrateful; for since the maternal
kindness of the Lady Fleming----"
The page started on his feet. "By Heaven, Catherine, your tongue wears
as many disguises as your person! But you only mock me, cruel girl.
You know the Lady Fleming has no more regard for any one, than hath
the forlorn princess who is wrought into yonder piece of old figured
court tapestry."
"It may be so," said Catherine Seyton, "but you should not speak so
loud."
"Pshaw!" answered the page, but at the same time lowering his voice,
"she cares for no one but herself and the Queen. And you know,
besides, there is no one of you whose opinion I value, if I have not
your own. No--not that of Queen Mary herself."
"The more shame for you, if it be so," said Catherine, with great
composure.
"Nay, but, fair Catherine," said the page, "why will you thus damp my
ardour, when I am devoting myself, body and soul, to the cause of your
mistress?"
"It is because in doing so," said Catherine, "you debase a cause so
noble, by naming along with it any lower or more selfish motive.
Believe me," she said, with kindling eyes, and while the blood mantled
on her cheek, "they think vilely and falsely of women--I mean of those
who deserve the name--who deem that they love the gratification of
their vanity, or the mean purpose of engrossing a lover's admiration
and affection, better than they love the virtue and honour of the man
they may be brought to prefer.
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