Now, when all rested, she watched--when all laid aside their festive garments, she had adorned herself with the same.

Like the queen, she wore a dress of gold brocade, trimmed with ermine, and, like her, a diadem of diamonds adorned Lady Jane's brow.
Now she stood before the queen's door and listened.

Then a fierce sneer flitted across her deathly pale face, and her dark eyes flashed still more.
"She sleeps," muttered she.

"Only sleep, queen--sleep till we shall come to wake you! Sleep, so that I can wake for you." She raised her arm threateningly toward the door, and wildly shook her head.

Her long black ringlets encircled and danced around her sullen brow like the snakes of the furies; and pale and colorless, and with demon-like beauty, she resembled altogether the goddess of vengeance, in scornful triumph preparing to tread her victim beneath her feet.
With a low laugh she now glided adown the corridor, but not to that staircase yonder, but farther down to the end, where on the wall hung a life-size picture of Henry the Sixth.