"
"But it was a great sacrifice that you demanded," said her mother.
"He had to give his hand to a woman he did not love, so that you
might be Thomas Seymour's wife."
"Mother, you defend him; and yet he it is that blames you daily; and
but yesterday it seemed to him perfectly right and natural that the
duke had forsaken you, our mother."
"Did he do that?" inquired the duchess, vehemently. "Well, now, as
he has forgotten that I am his mother, so will I forget that he is
my son. I am your ally! Revenge for our injured hearts! Vengeance on
father and son!"
She held out both hands, and the two young women laid their hands in
hers.
"Vengeance on father and son!" repeated they both; and their eyes
flashed, and crimson now mantled their cheeks.
"I am tired of living like a hermit in my palace, and of being
banished from court by the fear that I may encounter my husband
there."
"You shall encounter him there no more," said her daughter,
laconically.
"They shall not laugh and jeer at me," cried Arabella. "And when
they learn that he has forsaken me, they shall also know how I have
avenged myself for it."
"Thomas Seymour can never become my husband so long as Henry Howard
lives; for he has mortally offended him, as Henry has rejected the
hand of his sister. Perhaps I may become his wife, if Henry Howard
is no more," said the young duchess. "So let us consider. How shall
we begin, so as to strike them surely and certainly?"
"When three women are agreed, they may well be certain of their
success," said Arabella, shrugging her shoulders.
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