Chapter IV

FOUR months later on a November afternoon Mary stood alone in her room in Westminster well pleased. She was just come from Parliament; Philip had come with her and had left her not five minutes ago, after saying a word or two of congratulation; then he had smiled at her, kissed her hand, and gone out to his gentlemen.

It was done at last; her third victory had been won. First there had been the matter of her own coronation (she had fallen on her knees to win that), then there had been her marriage; and now there was the reversal of Cardinal Pole's attainder.

These three victories fulfilled her desire to reign as a Catholic Queen; there was but one more boon that she asked, and that God, not Parliament, could give her.

She was very happy as she stood now in her rich riding dress and ruff with folded hands in the middle of her room, looking out with unseeing eyes at the roofs beyond her window. God was surely good to her! He had given her struggles enough and tears enough; but joy was come now. She could surely trust Him for the rest — for the little anxieties that gnawed sometimes, the suspicions and the fears. She would put them away and trust utterly.

She had held little Lord Darnley on her knees that afternoon. His mother had brought him up, and stood

The Queen's Tragedy smiling down on the two, as the boy played with the jewels in Mary's hair.

The Queen had asked him what he would do when he was a man; and he had said he would fight for his princess.

" But your princess will be dead and gone," sighed Mary.

Then the boy had dropped the jewels, put up his face and kissed her, and she had seen his eyes grow bright with tears.

" No, no," he had said.

As the Queen had set him down at last, she felt his warm lips on her hand, and watched him going to the door, she had been comforted. How gladly would she die, if she could leave a prince behind her as sturdy as this little Scottish noble!

As she stood there now with the happy thrill running through her and her eyes still bright with excitement and pleasure, there was a tap at the door, and Mistress Dormer came through with candles, for the evening was closing in.

" It is done, sweetheart," said the Queen gently, smiling at her.

Jane smiled back, and set the candles down.

" My lord Cardinal will come across in a few days," went on the Queen. " Kiss me Jane, and say Laus Deo! "

Mistress Dormer came up to her, took the smiling face in her two hands, and kissed it softly over the eyes.

" Thank God," she said, " and your Grace's courage. My lord is here."

" My lord? " asked Mary puzzled.

" My lord of Winchester. Your Grace said "

Mary threw back her head.

" Why, yes — I had forgotten. Tell him, in five minutes."

Mary the Queen has her Heart's Desire

Five minutes later the Queen passed out aione, and turned down towards the little chapel where the Bishop was awaiting her.

It was the little room where she had taken her vow to marry Philip, before her two or three witnesses — where she had knelt before the Sacrament and sung Veni Creator to guide her to a decision.

It was the same now, with its temporary altar, and new fashioned standing-tabernacle, its gold candlesticks, its single lamp, its carved rail before the footpace.

The Bishop was sitting there now on a chair within the rail, dimly seen in the half-light; and he did not rise as she came in; for he was judge and priest now, not courtier; and she no more than a penitent.

She went up the open space with clasped hands, adored, knelt down and made the sign of the cross.

My lord's hand rose, and moved in the air to a murmur of Latin.

Then she sighed, for she had a great deal to say, and began.

There were a few external sins, first — she had shown sullenness half a dozen times, had cried " By God! " once, had been guilty of venial gluttony at breakfast thrice, had yielded to irregular movements — she asked a question or two about these and was reassured — she had been guilty of wilful distractions at mass; and of pride three or four times in public.

Then she paused.

" There is more, father. May I speak at length? "

" If it is necessary, my daughter."

" It is necessary — I cannot say it otherwise.... It is this; I wish you to receive and bless a resolution that I will trust God. I have been distrustful; I have wondered whether He loved me — whether I were not deceiving myself.... It is this, father.... There

The Queen's Tragedy is one whom I love... who... who is always courteous to me.... I — I — have listened to tales about this person... I reproved them at the time... but I thought of them afterwards.... I — I wept one whole night alone, and reproached God.... I know now that I should not have thought of them again.... It was not loyal, and I am always asking for loyalty myself.... I — told him once that he was unkind to me... and — and he never is; and he was not so then. He listened patiently, and told me it was not so. I wish to resolve that I will trust him, that I will not believe tales of him; or — or ask too much of him...."

Her voice faltered a moment. No sound came from the Bishop.

Then she went on.

" Then there is another matter, father.... I desire to have a son.... I have not trusted God in that.... I have thought I knew better than He.... Now He has.... has shown me I shall have one; and I am very sorry I did not trust Him more. I am very happy and very sorry. I wish to resolve now that I will trust Him in any event... whether or no...."

" I understand, my daughter," said the voice over her head gently.

Mary writhed her fingers together on the altar-rail.

" I must say it, father; it will help me.... Whether it be only a daughter.... or... or even if the child be not born alive."

She gave a great sob, and bit her quivering lips.

" I understand, my daughter," said the Bishop again. " You wish to trust God whatever may befall. That is a good resolution, it is the way to win His blessing."

Mary drew a long breath, and went on.

" There is another matter too, different from the rest. It is this. God has set me here to do my duty; to

Mary the Queen has her Heart's Desire punish ill-doers as well as to cherish the well-doers.... You have told me so, father, when I asked you once before. And... and I do not know how to hold back my passion.... I hate heresy so much; I know that they are the enemies of God's Church...."

" Their heresy, my daughter," corrected the Bishop.

" Yes... their heresy.... I must punish soon... they cannot go on... they insult God more every day; and... and I fear to punish too hotly. How can I tell, father, whether it is my passion or not? "

" You cannot tell," said the voice decisively. " You can but control your action in this. You must punish indeed, but you need not seek out yet. You can be merciful in that."

Mary nodded; it was what she had intended.

" Is that all? " asked the voice.

Mary hesitated.

" Yes; that is all, father; except..."

" Well, my daughter."

" Tell me how to trust God and — and him."

The bishop was silent a moment.

" They are one and the same resolution. If you trust God you will trust the other as well. To trust a friend is not to believe that he can do no wrong; we must trust no man like that; for all fall at times. You, especially, must trust no man like that. You must commit yourself wholly to none other than God. Therefore we do not trust God in the same manner in which we trust man. We trust Him, and Him alone."

The voice hesitated.

Mary looked up swiftly for a moment and saw the profile of the prelate's face, with long shadows drooping across it from the lamp overhead. It seemed troubled

" I do not understand, father."

The voice went on with an effort.

The Queen's Tragedy

" I mean, my daughter, that we must not set men on the throne of God."

Again there was silence.

" Is that plain? " asked the voice again.

" It is plain, and it is what I have done," said Mary.

" Grief and disappointment lie that way," said the bishop softly. " No man may do that, least of all a prince. Per me reges regnant, et legum conditores"

Mary bowed her head on her hands. She was disappointed and perplexed. It had seemed so easy just now to resolve to trust God and Philip; but this was a hard doctrine. Yet she knew it for true.

" This then should be your resolution," went on Gardiner, " to trust God, and to believe no evil lightly."

There was no answer.

" Do you accept that, my daughter? "

" I accept it."

" And is there aught more? "

" There is no more."

When penance and absolution had been given, the bishop rose.

The Queen looked up for a moment.

" I wish to see you, my lord. Will you wait for me? "

" I will wait, your Grace."

When he was gone out, matters seemed to clear a little. What he had said was perfectly true; and she recognised it. She had put Philip at least too near God's throne, and had then reproached him that he was not wholly worthy of it. But even now she did not dare to think of him as anything but a faithful lover. He might be a little cold; that was but natural for a foreigner in a strange country; it was his character too; she must not ask that he should be exactly as she was.

Mary the Queen has her Heart's Desire

What love or confidence could there be under such a demand? But the stories that were whispered were false, she assured herself once more; black lies intended to poison this spring of joy that she had found. No, no! Philip was true and loving and courteous; and she was a wicked woman to have dreamed he could be otherwise. What could be more courteous than his manner towards her; or — or more ardent?...

Then she bowed her head again and prayed that she might be worthy of his love; she thanked God for having had pity on her at last in sending love into her life; she entreated him again to crown His gifts and fulfil His hinted promise; but she renewed her resolution to trust Him utterly. Then she thanked Him for absolution, said her penance, and went to find Gardiner.

He was in her private room where the candles were now burning, and came across in his rochet and cap to kiss her hand.

Then she told him of the Cardinal, and he congratulated her on her victory.

" My lord will be here in a week, I hope," said the Queen. " He has been knocking long at the door of England."

" As Peter at Rhoda's wicket," said the bishop smiling.

" Yes, as he said; it is Peter who comes, not Pole. My lord Montague will meet him and bring him to town."

" Your Grace has done a great work."

" We hope that God will do so," said Mary shortly.

There was silence a moment. Then the Bishop went on.

" It is true, your Grace, that the Lady Elizabeth perseveres? "

" It is true," said Mary a little coldly. " Her Highness

The Queen's Tragedy hears two masses each day, and frequents the Sacraments."

" That is good news, madam! "

Mary lifted her chin a little.

" I wish you to go to Lambeth, my lord, and see that all is in readiness. My lord Cardinal will go there at once, as you know. My lord of Canterbury — " she stopped.

Gardiner glanced at her under his black eyebrows.

"We will deal with him," she said. "He is still Archbishop."

She asked a question or two presently about the effect of the Articles that the Bishop of London had put out during his visitation two months before.

" There are some malcontents," said the other. " How should there not be, your Grace? "

" I fear that Parliament will be too urgent," said Mary; " there is talk of the bill against heresy. I know not how that will be. I would my lord Norfolk had not left us for Paradise."

" We must wait for my lord Cardinal to bring us Paradise instead," said the Bishop smiling.

" All waits for him. To me he comes as an angel of God. Then you will go to Lambeth, my lord; and come and tell me again to-morrow."

But the Bishop's face lost its smooth gaiety as he went across the court to his carriage. There was another side to the tale of which the two had not spoken, though they both knew it to be true.

Mary the Queen has her Heart's Desire

On the Saturday of the following week the Court was awaiting the arrival of Reginald Pole.

Couriers had come in day by day to Westminster announcing his movements since he had landed at Dover on the evening of the twentieth; — his welcome by the escort on the following day, his torchlight reception at Canterbury and Sittingbourne, his progress northwards. Early on the Saturday a messenger had arrived in haste to say that the Cardinal would enter the Queen's barge at Gravesend, as had been arranged, and come up with the tide to Westminster a little after midday; and that he desired now to be received with legatine honours.

The last preparations had been hurried through. Lambeth had been made ready, for he would go on there to dine immediately after paying his respects at Westminster. Whitehall-stairs where he would land, and the rooms through which he would pass, had been

Fung with scarlet to do honour to his dignity; and a oth-of-estate erected in the Great Hall. The Queen had given all directions herself, and had visited the hall and the stairs before going in to dinner; and now was seated at table in her own chamber opening out of the King's Hall, silent and exultant, with Philip at her side.

The two hardly spoke to one another, except a short sentence now and again in Spanish, and the attendants went about their business swift and alert. Special sentries were set at the water-gate outside with instructions to send news in immediately at the first sign of the Cardinal's approach.

It seemed to Mary that she was in a dream too good to be true. With a strange exultation she had thanked God that morning at mass for the hundredth time that

The Queen's Tragedy it was she who had been raised up by Him to undo the work of her father and brother. This poor country of hers, like a lopped limb, had been shedding blood and life for the last twenty years, separated from the Heart of Christendom that alone could nourish it; but God had not forgotten. He had been preparing a heavenly physician — a man who had suffered bitterly for the Faith, who had lived in exile on its behalf, who had unflinchingly received the news of his own mother's death in the same cause, and whose love had never been soured by resentment or despair. She too had suffered; and it was she whom God's Providence had guarded so long and through so sore perils, to be the means of bringing God's chirurgeon home again to do his healing work. " O Lamb of God," her heart, still responsive to the memory of Winchester, had cried with the priest at mass, " O Lamb of God that takest away the sins of the world, take away England's sin; have mercy upon us, and give us peace!,"

She was in a mystical mood this morning at dinner. It appeared to her that all things bore a sacramental aspect. The scarlet cloth was to her stained by the Precious Blood through which redemption should come again; Christ's Blood and Roman scarlet were one thing; the beams across the lower end of the chamber were the Rood of Salvation; the very hypocras as she circled it in her deep golden cup was mingled red and white as the stream that flowed from the Saviour's side; the cold winter sunlight that poured in through the high windows sprang from the dawn of Righteousness.

There was a long silence as the capons were removed; Philip turned to her and said something; she scarcely heard what, as she answered it mechanically, for she was looking down the hall to the door by which the

Mary the Queen has her Heart's Desire messenger would come. And as she answered, he came

There was a quick movement of heads, a whisper, and then a profound stillness, as an officer of the guard hurried through, and after a swift salutation to the dais, came up with a page leading him to where they sat.

She saw him kneel again as he reached the opposite ide of the table, rise, and then his lips move. Without hearing the words she knew what they meant, and rose swiftly. Philip rose a moment later, turned to her with word, bowed ceremoniously, and passed out of his place; and she saw him go down the room with his deliberate dignified gait, and his gentlemen close in behind him. Then she sat down and waited, irresolute.

The omen seemed so good! He had come an hour before he was expected!

Surely the tide had borne him gladly, knowing what it was he brought, and how the dying land desired him. The flood of England's filth and refuse was checked by the ardour of the inflowing sea, for the silver cross of God's legate had moved upon it and turned it back.

Then again she rose; she could not wait there.

There was a movement as she came forward down the hall; a couple of ushers ran out and went before her; and half a dozen ladies came behind; but she was scarcely aware of them as she passed down the rushes and out on to the head of the staircase.

There she stopped, an upright stiff figure, with her hands folded decorously before her; and an impassive face.

She had had his letters so often; he had been described to her; his tenderness, his discretion, his simplicity were all known to her, but not his face. She would see that too in a moment now.

The Queen's Tragedy

There was the crash of music below, but she stood rigid with cold eyes cast down the slope of the stairs. Then she saw figures advancing; and her heart leapt and sent a flood of crimson through her cheeks; it paled again and left her white.

In front up the stairs came her husband looking strangely small and tawdry in his jewels beside the solemn splendour of the figure which walked with him. This man was in plain scarlet and white from head to foot. A scarlet cap lay on his brown hair and on scarlet again beneath the veil of his long beard shone a single gleam of jewels.

From above looked up at her large soft brown eyes, and they were fixed on hers that shook to meet them.

She was hardly aware of the crowd of faces that followed, of Stephen Gardiner in the immediate rear, Lords Montague and Arundel behind, and others, of the silver light of the legatine cross in the shadow of the archway.

What was that movement within her? Was it only the leaping of her heart?...

He was close to her now, his eyes on a level with hers before he bowed; and then as if to interpret her question he spoke.

" Ave Maria — gratia -plena — Dominus tecum; benedicta tu in mulieribus "

He paused for one intense instant.

" Et benedictus fructus ventris tui."

Ah! she knew now; God's legate had spoken and confirmed it.

Then she took his hands and kissed him on both cheeks.

Half an hour later she took his hands again, as he turned to go from beneath the cloth-of-estate in the

Mary the Queen has her Heart's Desire

Great Hall where the three had stood and talked with all eyes upon them.

He had given her news of the Holy Father, ot his desires and prayers for England, of his joy in his faithful daughter, of his promises of grace for the prodigal country returning at last to the Father's house. She had questioned him about his journey and his health, had asked him of his reception at Dover and Canterbury, and had listened to his soft voice as he told her how suffering had made him old before his time, but that the joy of the present had given him back his youth. He had described his journey, his joy at Calais, the watchword of the garrison there, " God long-lost is found," his swift crossing to Dover and the fall of the wind.

He had been so courteous, so strong and tender, as he looked at her and told her of his hopes.

Philip's tact too had not deserted him. He had smiled at her, taken her hand and kissed it, as she looked at him a moment, hesitating to tell him that the babe had leapt in her womb at the coming of the Lord's Anointed.

" There shall be a Te Deum on Monday," she cried incoherently — and then broke off, checked by the shame and wonder of it. " Facti sumus sicut consolati."

The Cardinal finished the quotation.

" Dicent inter gentes, magnificavit Dominus facere nobiscum."

Then he smiled again as he took her hands to say good-bye.

But she still held him a moment.

" Then on Monday, my lord, we shall see you again."

" On Monday, madam."

" And you will tell us all that you wish?:"

He bowed to her deprecatingly.

" My lord of Winchester will go with you now," went

The Queen's Tragedy on Mary. " I trust that all is ready. We have so looked for you, cousin."

His eyes moved from hers to Philip's and back again; and the King added another word or two in broken English.

" His heart is sounder than his tongue," said Mary smiling. She touched Philip's sleeve softly with her fingers, and let them rest there a moment.

" Now you must not lose the tide," she added.

" It brought me swiftly enough — ' began Pole.

Mary turned on him with her eyes alight.

" Ah! you thought so too, my lord; as I thought it. But the tide was not so strong as my desire."

She saw the axemen and pillar-bearers detach themselves from the crowd about the door as the Cardinal turned round; and the gleam of the silver emblems that had not been seen in England since Wolsey's fall a quarter of a century ago. She drew her breath swiftly at the sight.

" Ah! " she exclaimed; and stopped as Pole faced her again.

" The pillars and the axes! " she cried, like a child at a new toy.

"Christ's strength and justice," said the Cardinal smiling.

She had more leisure to -observe the other faces now, as the group reformed before passing out to the stairs where the royal barge still waited. She saw Gardiner's kindly eyes without the shadow of resentment in them at the coming of an ecclesiastic greater than himself; he was smiling and bowing as he took his place beside the ruddy stalwart Bishop of London. Dr. Bonner seemed glad enough too. Perhaps, she thought, he was not

Mary the Queen has her Heart's Desire unwilling to have the heavy burden lightened to his shoulders. She looked at her husband again, and what she saw beneath that courtly foreign mask satisfied her. He was acting no part in his welcome of the legate. Renard was there, happy and ardent. De Noailles' face showed nothing, as usual.

There was not one scowling or uninterested look that she could see. All were content, it seemed to be, and Mary herself stood joyous and exultant as she watched the stately procession go down the Great Hall.

As it came beneath the lantern she glanced round again with a kind of pride at the rows of faces on either side immediately below the dais — at Mr. Norris' excited eyes as he craned forward to look from the row of ushers, at Mr. Kearsley's lean twitching mouth; then she caught sight of Mr. Manton's, and it was not like the others. He was staring straight at her gloomily with pursed lips. He dropped his eyes as she looked.

She felt a rush of resentment at the tiny dark detail; but it was swept away again a moment later as a ripple of movement broke out.

A cap went up and a shout, and in an instant the roof rang with cheering.

" Philip and Mary," " Philip and Mary," " Philip and Mary and Reginald Pole " — these were the shouts, as the pageant went down; and the trumpets took up the jubilee outside the wide-flung doors. The gentlemen had forgotten to kneel and the ladies to curtsey as the two heads went past, one shining with jewels and a great feather, the other crowned with the little scarlet cap of a Prince of the Blood Royal of Jesus.

She saw the bright spot of clean colour turn this way and that as its wearer acknowledged the storm of greetings; it reached the open door, and the sunlight

The Queen's Tragedy in a moment struck a vivid vermilion from it, and ablaze from the diamonds at its side.

Then it disappeared, and that strange sensation tore again through Mary's body.

" Magnificat..." she whispered, as she swayed and reeled a moment, and her ladies leapt forward. " Magnificat anima mea Dontinum.'

Mary the Queen has her Heart's Desire

The Queen did not forget the glimpse she had had of Guy Manton's face in the Great Hall as the Cardinal went out. It provoked her in the acute manner in which only a small discomfort in the midst of prosperity can provoke. It was like the toothache during a triumph.

She found herself dwelling upon the minute detail in a manner utterly disproportioned to its insignificance. Her superstitious conscientiousness picked it out from the vast affairs which surrounded her, and demanded that it should be dealt with at once.

First she thought of dismissing him, for she had noticed his sullenness before now, then of ignoring him; and finally she made time for two conversations, one about him and one with him.

She sent for Master Norris after High Mass next day.

He came to her in the parlour where she was waiting before going to dinner: and she began by speaking about the events of the day before, and her anxiety for the Cardinal's comfort.

" It was a glorious day, madam," he burst out, " thanks to your Grace's courage."

Mary put on her stiffest expression.

" Thanks to God's mercy," she said.

" And to your Grace's correspondence with it," persisted the theologian.

" It was not to receive compliments that I sent for you," went on Mary, drumming her rings impatiently, " but to send you on an errand. Master Englefield is to go across to Lambeth this afternoon about to-morrow's affair; and I wish two of my gentlemen to go with him besides his own."

" Yes, madam," said Jack delightedly.

" Whom will you take with you, sir? "

Jack Norris, as lieutenant of the gentlemen pensioners,

The Queen's Tragedy had such matters more or less under his control, and he mentioned two or three names. Guy Manton's was not among them.

Mary considered a moment.

" Yes," she said, " I should wish for more discreet persons. What of Master Manton? "

Jack was silent.

" Have you anything against him, sir? "

Her voice rang hard, and the young man looked up astonished.

" Nothing madam, except "

" Well, sir? Is he not discreet? " Oh! he is discreet, your Grace-

Mary lowered her eyelids a little at his tone.

" Well? " she said.

" He is not very well affected, madam," burst out Jack at last. " He has spoken of asking your Grace's leave to go back to Cambridge."

The Queen was silent.

" I do not mean that he is anything but loyal, your Grace, or other than a good Catholic."

" Well, sir, what is his complaint? "

" He thinks that your Grace does not use him enough," explained Jack anxiously. " He says that there is nothing to do."

" Ah! " said Mary, and sat drumming her fingers again.

Jack was afraid that he had said too much. He had no wish that Guy should get into trouble, and he began to explain again, but the Queen cut him short with a gesture.

" That will do, Mr. Norris."

Then she sat silent again.

Jack looked at her once or twice, but could make nothing of that discreet tight-lipped face. It did not

Mary the Queen has her Heart's Desire appear pleased, and yet he did not see what else he could have answered.

Finally Mary spoke again.

" Very well, sir; I will speak to Master Manton myself, and release him if he wishes it, but you must not tell him so. Will you send him to me after dinner, and in the meantime do not tell any of the other gentlemen that you will want them. Perhaps Master Manton will go with you himself. He shall take you a message when he leaves me this afternoon."

The Queen was very thoughtful during dinner. She was astonished herself at the interest she took in this young man from Cambridge, and at the lack of it which she had shown. She felt the justice of his complaint; it was true enough that she had sent for him to Court intending to reward him and to give him suitable employment, and it was equally true that she had not done so. She was not altogether displeased at the knowledge that he resented this treatment, and was ill-content with mere idleness and fine clothes and servants and horses. This then was the secret of those gloomy looks that she had noticed from time to time, and especially yesterday; he felt that he was no more than a spectator when he had hoped to be an actor. She would remedy it now; and make a beginning by sending him to Lambeth and arranging that he should have a personal introduction to the Cardinal. But was that the only secret of his depression?

She said a private word to Sir Francis Englefield as she went out from dinner, and then passed on to her parlour to await Guy.

He had a restrained air as he came in, made his salutation, and stood upright again opposite her chair. She

The Queen's Tragedy noticed his capable square hand holding his cap, and his straight passionless lips, as she began to speak.

" I wish you to go to Lambeth with Master Englefield," she said, " Master Norris is to go also, and some others. It is on the matter of to-morrow."

Guy bowed stiffly.

" I told Master Norris that I needed discreet persons to go with him, though it is no matter of great importance and spoke your name to him."

Guy bowed again, but said nothing.

The Queen felt annoyed; it was no more easy to her to pay veiled compliments than to receive them; but she determined to be patient.

" I hope to employ you more, sir, in the future than I have done in the past. You understand of course that it is necessary for my servants to learn my purposes — and — and circumstances before they can do my business.

... You do not say anything, Master Manton."

" I have had few opportunities, your Grace," began Guy coldly.

" It is half-a-year now," went on Mary disregarding him, for she did not mean to allow him to complain: "it is half a year now since you entered my service. You will have learnt much in that time. I shall hope to employ you now in many matters, and if you acquit yourself well, I shall commit important things to your hand. But you must be patient, Master Manton, and you must be ready to find employment for yourself. I need eyes about me at all times, and you must be very shrewd and silent, and prepared to wait."

She looked at him again, and met the look from his brown eyes. It was an interested one, and that touch of sullenness was almost gone from it. But it was not altogether friendly.

" I cannot find employment myself for all my 118

Mary the Queen has her Heart's Desire servants," she went on. " I can only give them opportunities for finding it. But there is enough for all, God knows! " she ended with energy.

" Yes, madam," said Guy.

" I have told Master Englefield to make you known to my lord Cardinal. It is round Lambeth now that the wheel will turn. But you must watch on all sides."

" Yes, madam."

" Next year there will be the affair at Oxford. I do not know how soon we may set our hands to that. I shall hope to send you there. You understand a University, and may be able to do some work there."

His face brightened visibly as she talked, and she understood more clearly than ever that it was her apparent neglect of him that had given him his sour looks. Yet she was conscious that the barrier was not wholly gone; there was a hardness in the young man's air that she had not noticed before. Was this just one more case of alienation from her own unloveable personality? She determined to step on to yet more intimate ground.

" It is a happy time for us all now my lord that Cardinal is here. You were in the Hall, yesterday, Master Manton? "

" Yes, madam."

" And you will be present too on Saint Andrew's Day. We must pray that all will go well."

She waited for an answer but none came. She perceived that she must give him time, and that sullenness is not dispelled by a single friendly conversation.

She rose and gave him her hand again.

The King's Majesty is gone to the tournament, is he not? "

Yes, madam. I saw his Highness ride out as I came in,"

The Queen's Tragedy

" Then I must begone after him," said Mary smiling.

But she stood a moment or two, when he had gone, with her lips sucked, in mechanically stroking the two carved rampant beasts on the mantel-piece, that guarded her lilies and leopards with one claw and menaced the crown with the other.

What was wrong, she asked herself, that she could not win love from her people?

Surely she had been kind enough to this young man — perhaps too kind! Yet there was no doubt that she had not his sympathy. And there were many like him.

Well, well, she must leave all to God, He was doing miracles for England.

Mary the Queen has her Heart's Desire

She awoke early on the morning of Saint Andrew's Day, signed herself with the cross, murmured a Latin word or two, and turned softly over on to the other side.

She was alone in bed; but she could hear the steady breathing of one of her ladies who slept beside the door. She drew back the heavy edge of the curtain, and peered out. The tall candle lit last night was burning to its death, but there was no glimmer of dawn yet from the window across the room, and the palace was still silent.

Mary reached out a hand to the prie-dieu, took from it a prayer-book, opened it and read softly the prayer for the Unity of the Catholic Church that she had used for twenty years; then turned the pages, and found that which she had only used for a fortnight — the prayer for the delivery of a woman in child-birth, read that too, smiling; closed the book, repeated a Pater nosier and a couple of Aves, and lay still.

Picture after picture began to form in her mind of the events of the last few days. She saw again the high staircase, and the two caps ascending it; the gleam of the silver emblems; and heard the roaring of the crowd. Then she saw the Cardinal again as he was on Monday when he came for the audience; he looked less tired after a day's rest, and had spoken with more animation. She saw too the tanned face of the courier in the background— he had ridden hard from Rome and had arrived a few hours before with the final dispensations. She remembered how he had spoken, giving glory to God for the speed with which he had been able to come.

On the Tuesday there had been more business — the inspection of documents. She thought of the paper which the Lord Chancellor had laid before her, the smooth-written lines containing in black ink the short

The Queen's Tragedy speech he proposed to make to Parliament. She had suggested a word or two of alteration, and he had made the corrections then and there; she saw again his brown hand with the great amethyst upon it, and the white-plumed quill above.

On the Wednesday there had been the meeting in the Great Hall. She had been carried to it in her chair, and had sat side by side with Philip beneath the canopy, with the Cardinal on her right. She saw once more the Lord Chancellor Gardiner in his robes, and the intent faces turned up to him, and heard his strong voice rehearsing the little speech he had prepared. Then the legate had answered; she had leaned forward to listen to his smooth-flowing English and his queer mystical similes of clocks and lamps and the temple at Jerusalem. He had traced in his soft virile voice the religious history of England too, from its conversion to its apostacy under the man by whom his own death had been sought. There had been curious movements among the audience; she had seen a bishop's lips twitching; Master Waldegrave, her old friend, had clasped his hands suddenly; my lord of Winchester had cast a swift glance at her and down again; someone had cried out in applause near the door.

Then she and her husband and the legate had gone out together through the bowing crowd, after a few more words from Gardiner, and had left the Lords and Commons to consider the matter.

On the Thursday she had received the news of their final debate; first officially; and then she and Philip together had heard the story from the Lord Chancellor. There had been no dissentients among the Lords; and only two among the Commons: Master Bagenall had made a little speech saying that he held still with King Henry against the Pope. She had watched Gardiner's

Mary the Queen has her Heart's Desire face as he talked; and it came before her again now as she lay in bed with closed eyes — its kindliness, its solemn exultation. He had kissed her hand fervently before he went out.

The faces came and went; she heard the rustle of skirts, the cry of trumpets, a murmur of applause. Then a figure came vivid and distinct; it was her husband; his back was turned to her, and she saw his gold collar and his yellow hair, and the swaying of his shoulders as he went. Where was he going? Why would he not turn round as she called?...

Then there was a voice speaking; a flood of light poured into her eyes, and she awoke with her woman's face bending over her.

She did not go to the High Mass at the Abbey that morning; her doctors had told her to spare all exertion. She had been reconciled to that when she heard that the Cardinal would not go either; and that he was reserving himself for the fierce emotion of the afternoon.

She had kissed Philip before he went, laying her hands on the collar of the Golden Fleece that crossed his shoulders; and had watched him down the gallery with his gentlemen behind him, as he went to meet the six hundred nobles who waited in the court below.

Then she passed back, said her prayers, heard a low mass in her little chapel, and went to dinner.

It was after four o'clock, and candles were alight, when she came down to the chamber opening out of the Great Hall.

She sat down there on a chair set for her, feeling horribly ill, and waited a few minutes. Mistress Dormer brought her a cup, and she drank mechanically, giving it back half-drained,

The Queen's Tragedy

Then the silent group by the door stirred and rustled, and the King and the Cardinal came in together.

She stood up to receive them, but they looked strange to her eyes. The vermilion of her cousin's dress bewildered her; it all seemed like some unfamiliar play; and she did not know her part. Her hands were icy-cold and wet, as she clasped them and stood staring and silent. She made an effort presently and said a word or two, as she listened to the stir and hum from the Great Hall outside. They were all there then, all ready to receive pardon and the kiss of the Catholic Church.

Then she found herself walking by her husband, the heads bobbed and swayed before her. She became aware of a tumult in her ears, of tiers of faces on either side, colours and jewels, the white of a row of rochets on her left, a great gold canopy overhead.

There were steps to be ascended, and she went up them falteringly; she felt Philip's hand for a moment beneath her arm, and she closed her fingers on it.

Then she was seated, and the hall lay before her.

The Commons were immediately in front, facing her, a bank of white faces in the gathering gloom; on the right were the bishops, on the left the temporal peers, at the further end a crowd of other blurred faces. Overhead the roof was darkening every moment as the evening drew in; and along the walls a few lights threw patches of brightness on to the heads below....

The Lord Chancellor was speaking now; but she scarcely heard what was said. She looked at him raised on a stage, and strove to understand.

The voice murmured on, and she forgot to realise it. Then it paused, and a thunderclap of assent rose from four hundred voices.

" We do."

And with that she understood.

Mary the Queen has her Heart's Desire

Here then they were, the representatives of the nation given her by God to rule to His glory and to bring back to His fold. All England was here, of which she was Queen and Mother, once more at the feet of Christ's Vicar; the wild beasts with whom she had fought, who had snarled so fiercely and sought to tear her down as they had torn down God's Body from their churches; the tender lambs who had cried so piteously from hamlet and back-street and country-lanes, wandering without a shepherd, starving for lack of wholesome food; the wise leaders of the flock who had hesitated, turned and run for lack of knowledge — all those were here in the darkening hall, tamed and comforted and guided at last

And were there not others here too — presences at the high luminous windows, eyes looking down from the shadow of the roof, wings and forms crowding the air, figures of those who had suffered and died, bodiless creatures of God who had prayed and striven and sought to protect those others in the days of trouble? It was here that Master More had walked and read his doom in the face of his judge; it was here that her father

She closed her eyes a moment, bewildered and overwhelmed. These were here, and more besides. For an instant there seemed silence in heaven, a silence of wonder before a shout of praise, and a silence in which God smiles as He opens his Hands that flow with grace and gifts.

Then the physical emotion gripped her throat; she began to sob quietly.

A paper was put before her; and she saw, through tears, Gardiner on his knees. She looked through the paper, understanding not one word that was written on it, and handed it silently to Philip.

Then the Lord Chancellor was reading it from the

The Queen's Tragedy steps of the throne. She watched his profile and the movements of his lips as he held the writing near his eyes, and now and again heard what he was reading.

It was Latin, but she understood here and there.

" the Most Reverend Father in God the Lord

Cardinal Pole, Legate... our Most Holy Father Pope Julius the Third and the Apostolic See of Rome... the abrogation and repeal of the said laws and ordinances... From the Apostolic See, by the said Most Reverend Father... absolution, release and discharge from... such censures and sentences.... Repentant children.... the bosom and unity of Christ's Church.... serve God and your Majesties....

He was on his knees again now, and a voice whispered to her to take the paper and stand up.

This was a different paper, and she held it for a moment, not understanding what was required.

Then she began to read, hearing her own deep voice with astonishment. It was some kind of request for reconciliation. So much she gathered, but not more; though she had pored over the paper with delight two days before.

She was back again in her seat now, sitting tense and upright while a murmur of applause rose and sank. Other voices were reading; she heard a Southern accent from her side; it was Philip who was reading; then another, and then silence, and the darkness thickened.

Then a breeze seemed to pass and sweep the clouds once more from her throbbing brain. It was Reginald Pole who was talking, and the associations of strength and healing that were for her already connected with his voice, refreshed and uplifted her.

He was telling the silent slopes of faces before him how

Mary the Queen has her Heart's Desire much they must thank God for His mercies, who was calling again the people who lived in darkness to see a great light. As they had been the first of the Northern nations to turn to Christ from idols, so they were first again to return from schism. Again his thought rose and embraced her own.

" How much would the angels," he said in his quiet voice, as he sat in his chair, the legate of the Ruler of Kings, " how much would the angels who rejoice over one sinner that repenteth, lift up their voices in thanksgiving over the return of so noble a people."

There fell again a deep heart-shaking silence, and Pole stood up.

For a moment Mary looked at him, at the red glow of robes that burned in the gloom like flowers at sunset, at his clean-cut profile above his soft beard, and the little scarlet cap that crowned him.

As his hand rose, she understood that the moment was come. She too rose, grasping her chair, and sank on to her knees.

There was a rustle through the hall, the groan and rattle of benches, the surge up and down of faces as the whole assembly rose and fell forward on to their knees.

Silence fell again, a silence that blended strangely with the darkness, a pause in which it seemed that the whole kingdom, come to its senses at last, waited with passionate patience for the descent of peace.

Then the voice began, very slow and tender and deliberate.

" Dominus noster Jesus Christus.,."

The clouds were gone now from the Queen's brain; it seemed to her that she was resting in some mellow landscape, content and tranquil and desirous all at once,

The Queen's Tragedy

Across it lay a light that was brightening with every word, from some source that she could not understand, a healing flood of grace that warmed and lightened as it fell. There was but one distraction, and that the tumult of her own body; she strove to arrest the trembling, to force back the sobs that tore her, to silence the hammering in heart and throat and brain — yet above the struggle her spirit lay as in a deep lawn of peace, with the summer sky above it, the bubble of bird-song in her ears, the sound of running water, and a vast content enfolding her. She felt she would like to die so.

Her brain too was alert and illuminated, and she understood every word.

" Our Lord Jesus Christ, who with His most precious blood hath redeemed and washed us from all our sins and iniquities, that He might purchase us unto Himself a glorious spouse without spot or wrinkle, Whom the Father hath appointed Head over all His Church. He by His mercy absolves you. And we, by the Apostolic Authority committed unto us by the Most Holy Lord, Pope Julius the Third, His Vice-gerent on earth, do absolve and deliver you, all and single, together with this whole realm and its dominions, from all heresy and schism, and from all and every judgment, pain and censure from that cause incurred.

" And we do restore you once more into the unity of our Holy Mother Church.

" In the Name of the Father *, of the Son *, and of the Holy Ghost *."

An indescribable tumult of weeping and laughter and assent surged up from the hall.