Page:Two Scenes in the Life of Anne Boleyn.pdf/6

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It was again evening;—and Anna was again seated in a lonely chamber,—but far different from her former apartment in the turret. A few, very few, years had passed since then—and her face was still lovely as ever; but the character of its loveliness was changed. The eyes were restless, and the lashes had the brightness of unshed tears. A hectic colour seemed to burn the cheek on which it rested, and the once full lip was pale and thin. She was leaning back in a cumbrous arm-chair; and her black dress gave a gloom to her whole appearance, which ill-accorded with her slender and airy figure, and a face whose native vivacity neither sorrow nor suffering could quite subdue. It had been but a brief reign for the young and lovely queen, and a short step from the throne to the Tower; for in the Tower was that gloomy chamber where she was keeping her solitary vigil. A few logs burned dimly on the hearth; and the red glare of the smoky lamp, which swung above, fell on the dreary-looking walls. The panels had no carvings, but those which are the work of listless wretchedness seeking a refuge from itself—and seeking in vain;—all the graven records were of the prisoner and the doomed. Some had cut grotesque faces, which seemed to mock the misery they witnessed—others had contented themselves with initials—while others again had graven short sad sentences, all bearing on the mutability of fortune. The young queen read them not—she was lost in a deep reverie. Her gay and careless girlhood, at the French court, passed vividly before her. Again she triumphed in being the chosen of so accomplished a cavalier as Lord Percy. The Seine seemed to spread far away in the silver moon light, as bright as her then unbroken spirits.