de worldly by the intelligence
and humour reposing in the brown depths of her eyes. Not a line vexed
her face or forehead. Her countenance was of a singular and almost
polished smoothness, and though her gown was severely simple by
comparison with silks and velvets, furs and ruffles of a gorgeous Court
at its most gorgeous period, yet in it here and there were touches of
exquisite fineness. The black velvet ribbon slashing her sleeves, the
slight cloud-like gathering of lace at the back of her head, gave a
distinguished softness to her appearance.

She was in curious contrast to the Queen, who sat upon heaped-up
cushions, her rich buff and black gown a blaze of jewels, her yellow
hair, now streaked with grey, roped with pearls, her hands heavy with
rings, her face past its youth, past its hopefulness, however noble and
impressive, past its vivid beauty. Her eyes wore ever a determined look,
were persistent and vigilant, with a lurking trouble, yet flooded, too,
by a quiet melancholy, like a low, insistent note that floats through
an opera of passion, romance, and tragedy; like a tone of pathos
giving deep character to some splendid pageant, which praises whilst it
commemorates, proclaiming conquest while the grass has not yet grown on
quiet houses of the children of the sword who no more wield the sword.
Evasive, cautious, secretive, creator of her own policy, she had
sacrificed her womanhood to the power she held and the State she served.
Vain, passionate, and faithful, her heart all England and Elizabeth, the
hunger for glimpses of what she had never known, and was never to know,
thrust itself into her famished life; and she was wont to indulge, as
now, in fancies and follow some emotional whim with a determination very
like to eccentricity.

That, at this time, when great national events were forward, when
conspiracies abounded, when Parliament was grimly gathering strength
to compel her to marry; and her Council were as sternly pursuing their
policy for the destruction of Leicester; while that very day had come
news of a rising in the North and of fresh Popish plots hatched in
France--that in such case, this day she should set aside all business,
refuse ambassadors and envoys admission, and occupy herself with two
Huguenot refugees seemed incredible to the younger courtiers. To such
as Cecil, however, there was clear understanding. He knew that when
she seemed most inert, most impassive to turbulent occurrences, mo