But no sleep came to his eyes that night, and his soul was restless
and full of fierce torment. He was angry with himself, and accused
himself of treachery and perfidy; and then again, full of proud
haughtiness, he still tried to excuse himself and to silence his
conscience, which was sitting in judgment on him.
"I love her--her only!" said he to himself. "Catharine possesses my
heart, my soul; I am ready to devote my whole life to her. Yes, I
love her! I have this day so sworn to her; and she is mine for all
eternity!"
"And Elizabeth?" asked his conscience. "Have you not sworn truth and
love to her also?"
"No!" said he. "I have only received her oath; I have not given her
mine in return. And when I vowed never to marry the Duchess of
Richmond; when I swore this 'by my love,' then I thought only of
Catharine--of that proud, beautiful, charming woman, at once
maidenly and voluptuous; but not of this young, inexperienced, wild
child--of this unattractive little princess!"
"But the princess may one day become a queen," whispered his
ambition.
"That, however, is very doubtful," replied he to himself. "But it is
certain that Catharine will one day be the regent, and if I am at
that time her husband, then I am Regent of England."
This was the secret of his duplicity and his double treachery.
Thomas Seymour loved nothing but himself, nothing but his ambition.
He was capable of risking his life for a woman; but for renown and
greatness he would have gladly sacrificed this woman.
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