Her proud heart reared fiercely up at the thought of bowing before this woman, whom she hated, and of being obliged to approach her with a fawning prayer.

She felt such raging hate against the queen, that in that hour she would willingly have given her own life, if she could have first seen her enemy at her feet, wailing and crushed.
Henry Howard loved the queen; so Catharine had robbed her of the heart of him whom she adored.

Catharine had condemned her to the eternal torment of renouncing him--to the rack of enjoying a happiness and a rapture that was not hers--to warm herself at a fire which she like a thief had stolen from the altar of another's god.
Catharine was condemned and doomed.

Jane had no more compassion.

She must crush her.
"Well," asked the queen, "you are silent?
You do not tell me what I am to grant you ?" Lady Jane raised her eyes, and her look was serene and peaceful.
"Queen," said she, "I encountered in the ante-room one who is unhappy, deeply bowed down.