“Enough and to spare, fair niece,” he answered; “and there is much malice in a court: it crawleth, like the serpent, on its belly, and there is war between it and the seed of woman, for it ever stings the heel of him who would live honestly. It was such malice that pulled down my lord cardinal. But enough; you know your duty, and yonder is Kimbolton.” CHAPTER IV THE QUEEN AT KIMBOLTON THE shadows of evening were gathering fast when the little party halted at the gates of Kimbolton. There was much parley, and the royal warrant was produced before the visitors were admitted, the delay and formality impressing Betty with the feeling of entering a prison; and she followed her uncle reluctantly across the courtyard, where a few torches flared in the gloom. No womanish qualms, however, oppressed Carew, and he walked boldly forward, leaving Raby to attend upon his niece, an office which the younger man eagerly accepted; indeed, he had already won the good opinion of Mistress Betty by his courtly gallantry upon the road. Bred in the country and under unfortunate auspices, she was little accustomed to the attendance of a courtier, and she noted young Master Raby’s courtesy and graceful tact with some secret admiration, though she held her head high and was, as usual, chary of her smiles, perhaps, because--like every beauty--she knew their value. Unfavorably impressed both with the place and with the lack of state and hospitality, she shrank back a little, and so it was that she and her cavalier were late in entering the hall, and found Sir William already in deep converse with the castellan, Sir Edmund Bedingfield. Neither of these worthies heeded the young people, scarcely noting their entrance, but stood talking and perusing a letter, no doubt the instructions of my lord privy seal. Mistress Betty and Raby drew near to the fire in the great chimney, a pile of logs of such length that one end might burn while the other was cold, but giving little warmth, for the opening above was of such huge dimensions that gusts of cold air came down with greater alacrity than the sparks and smoke went up. There was a lack of due attendance, a cheerless and gloomy aspect that increased the young girl’s unfavorable impression, and she shivered a little, bending over the fire and holding out her hands to the blaze. “A dull place,” said Simon Raby, in a low tone; “a dull place for an uncrowned queen.” “Poor lady!” murmured Betty, forgetful of her uncle’s recent instructions, “’tis enough to break her heart.” “I never knew her,” Raby answered. “I was away in France with Sir John Wallop until the queen that now is was crowned, but they do tell me that this lady is too strong and resolute a woman to greatly mourn the loss of state or earthly glory; but ’tis awful to consign a princess to so mean a case as this.” Betty, remembering now the commands that were laid upon her, turned the subject without an open expression of her own feeling on this point.