how the queen confided her griefs to the cardinal.
philip, who exhibited little uneasiness at the queen’s indisposition, was still seated at table with pole, when the cardinal’s physician, doctor forest, came in, and informed his eminence that her majesty desired instant speech with him.
“the queen is not seriously ill, i trust, sir?” said philip, alarmed by the physician’s grave looks.
“she appears to have received a severe shock, sire,” replied forest, “but i trust no ill consequences may ensue. her majesty wishes to see your eminence—alone,” he added to the cardinal.
“go to her at once,” said philip. “if my hopes of succession should be blighted, it will be grievous indeed. but you have no such fears, sir?” he added quickly to the physician.
“i shall have no fear if her majesty’s mind can be tranquilised,” replied forest—“and that, i trust, his eminence will be able to accomplish.”
“my reliance, then, is upon you,” said philip to the cardinal. “a few words from your lips will not fail to calm her.”
thereupon pole hastened to the apartment where the queen had been conveyed. on entering it, he found her reclining on a couch, and attended by her ladies, who, on his appearance, immediately withdrew.
“i am much concerned to see your majesty thus,” observed 230pole. “it will be a real affliction if your visit to me should be productive of ill consequences to yourself.”
“i am sorry i came,” replied mary. “the words of that malignant heretic have sunk deep into my breast. he said that i shall never be a mother.”
“let not his words trouble you for a moment, gracious madam,” said pole. “they are of no account. he but gave utterance to the evil wishes of his heart—nothing more. dismiss all fears from your breast, and look joyfully and confidently forward to the moment which will crown a nation’s satisfaction in your marriage by giving it a prince.”
“your words are comforting,” replied mary, faintly; “but i cannot shake off my fears. something whispers in mine ear that the fond hopes i have indulged will prove vain. and what will happen then?” she continued, with a shudder. “i shall lose my husband.”
“oh! think not so, gracious madam—think not so!” cried pole. “if the consummation you dread were to happen—which heaven, in its goodness, avert!—and fill the land with sorrow—the king, your husband, would be more devoted to you than ever.”
“hear me, my lord cardinal,” said mary, grasping his arm convulsively. “i have already lost my husband’s love, if i ever possessed it, which i more than doubt. were i to disappoint his expectations now, he would leave me.”
“leave you, gracious madam! impossible!”
“i say he would,” rejoined the queen. “this is the only tie that binds us together. i cannot give him my kingdom, and if i fail to give him an heir, through whom he may exercise the sovereignty, he will return to spain.”
“i cannot believe him so ungrateful,” cried pole. “your majesty does him injustice.”
“his conduct towards me leaves no doubt as to his intentions,” rejoined mary. “on our first meeting he vowed he loved me, but his vows were false. i am not blind to my defects. i know that i have few charms of person to attract him—that i have neither youth nor beauty. but i gave him a deep, true love. moreover, i gave him a kingdom. how has he requited me?—by neglect, by harshness, by infidelity.”
231“oh! madam, i would willingly discredit what i hear,” cried pole. “if it be as you represent, i pity you from the bottom of my heart.”
“my sainted mother, queen katharine of aragon, was most unhappy,” pursued mary; “but i am little less unhappy. neglected, injured, scorned as i am by my husband, i cannot, despite the efforts i make, shake off the love i bear him. i summon pride to my aid, but in vain. my heart is wrung with jealousy, but i hide my torments. what shall i do if i lose him?”
“you will not lose him, gracious madam—fear it not,” exclaimed pole. “i will remonstrate with him. i will convince him of the wickedness of his conduct.”
“proceed with caution, or you will only make matters worse,” said mary. “were i to lose him, i should die.”
“do not distress yourself thus, madam,” said pole. “exalted as is your station, it does not exempt you from the ordinary sufferings of humanity—nay, it exposes you to greater ills than fall to the lot of those less loftily placed. the king is unworthy of your love, i grant, but i counsel you not to resent his neglect, nor to reproach him. bear yourself ever gently towards him, ever maintaining your own dignity, and if you win not back his love, you are certain to gain his esteem.”
“perchance i have reproached him overmuch,” cried mary. “but, as i have already said, my heart has been wrung by jealousy.”
“crush all such feelings, at whatever cost,” rejoined pole. “give him no grounds of complaint.”
“but his unkindness makes me wretched,” cried mary. “would i could hate him—despise him!”
“it is sad that love like yours should meet so poor a return,” sighed pole; “and the king is blind to his own happiness that he does not estimate the treasure he casts away, to set up worthless baubles in its place. pray constantly and fervently to heaven to bless you with a son, and if your prayers are granted, you will be happy.”
“but if heaven should deny me the blessing?”
“heaven will compassionate you,” said the cardinal. “it will not be deaf to prayers like yours.”
“yet my mother’s prayers were unheard, though her 232wrongs and sufferings were greater than mine. she died neglected, heart-broken. such may be my fate.”
“the indulgence of these thoughts is like to bring about the very calamity you would avert, madam,” said pole. “you know and feel how much depends upon the event we so much desire, and your physician will tell you that to a favourable issue freedom from agitation and anxiety are essential. you will undo all the good if you harass yourself thus unnecessarily.”
“i will try to follow your counsel,” replied mary. “and now, my good lord cardinal, answer me one question. have i wrongfully suspected constance tyrrell?”
“madam, i truly think so,” replied pole.
“then send for her instantly, that i may repair the wrong i have done,” cried mary.
the cardinal readily complied, and ere long constance made her appearance.
“come hither, child,” said the queen, in a kind voice, on seeing her. “i have done you injustice. but i will make amends. you told me that you fled from hampton court with osbert clinton. why did you trust him?”
“i trusted him because—because he loved me, gracious madam,” replied constance. “since then we have been affianced.”
“is the king aware of your betrothal?” inquired mary.
“he is, madam,” replied constance. “but he has forbidden osbert, on pain of death, to see me again.”
“indeed!” exclaimed mary. “then i cannot aid you as i should wish to do. you must think of osbert no more.”
“i cannot obey you in that respect, madam,” replied constance. “he is never absent from my thoughts.”
“poor child!” exclaimed mary. “your fate is as sad as my own. we are both doomed to unhappiness.”
“but it is in your majesty’s power to make me happy—to make osbert happy,” cried constance.
“alas! child, you give me credit for more power than i possess,” rejoined mary. “i dare not oppose the king in this matter. osbert must not see you again. should he do so, i cannot save him from the king’s resentment. but i will do all i can for you. you shall be released from confinement, 233but you must remain for a time with the good cardinal, who, i am sure, will be a father to you.”
“i will willingly take charge of her,” said pole. “she shall have free range of the palace.”
“but she must not quit it without my consent,” said mary. “neither must she see osbert clinton.”
“i will answer for her,” rejoined the cardinal.
“nay, i will answer for myself,” cried constance. “i thank your majesty from the bottom of my heart, and will faithfully obey your injunctions.”
“it will be a period of probation, that is all,” said the queen. “you will be better and happier for it in the end—at least, i trust so. and now, child, you may retire. remember what i have said about osbert clinton.”
“i shall not fail, gracious madam,” she replied. and kissing the hand extended to her by the queen, she withdrew.
some further conversation then took place between mary and the cardinal, which had the effect of restoring the queen to comparative cheerfulness, and she declared that she now felt quite able to return to whitehall. by her desire, pole then summoned her ladies, and, on their appearance, quitted her to communicate the glad intelligence of her recovery to the king.
