Richard was moved from his lofty height of wrath and vindictiveness, but he did not believe her.

How could he, with the fatal note in his hand, and the memory of the degrading epithet it contained, and which Ethie, too, had used against him, still ringing in his ears?
The virgin queen of England was never more stony and inexorable with regard to the unfortunate Mary than was Richard toward his wife, and the expression of his face froze all the better emotions rising in Ethie's heart, as she felt that in a measure she was reaping a just retribution for her long deception.
"I do not believe you, madam," Richard said; "and if I were inclined to do so, this note, which Harry said was sent to you, and which I found upon the floor, would tell me better," and tossing into her lap the soiled bit of paper, accomplishing so much harm, he continued: "There is my proof; that in conjunction with the name of opprobrium, which you remember you insinuatingly used, asking if you were pretty enough to make the old maid, Elizabeth, jealous.

You are pretty enough, madam; but it is an accursed beauty which would attract to itself men of Frank Van Buren's stamp." Richard could not get over that epithet.

He would have forgiven the other sin almost as soon as this, and his face was very dark and stern as he watched Ethelyn reading the little note.

She knew in a moment what it was, and the suddenness of its appearance before her turned her white and faint.