There were no explanations or apologies on either side when they met again; but in a few days their behaviour to one another was as usual. Yet underneath the smooth surface Ralph’s heart rankled and pricked with resentment.
At the meeting of Parliament in April, the business in Cromwell’s hands grew more and more heavy and distracting.
Ralph went with him to Westminster, and heard him deliver his eloquent little speech on the discord that prevailed in England, and the King’s determination to restore peace and concord.
“On the Word of God,” cried the statesman, speaking with extraordinary fervour, his eyes kindling as he looked round the silent crowded benches, and his left hand playing with his chain. “On the Word of God His Highness’ princely mind is fixed; on this Word he depends for his sole support; and with all his might his Majesty will labour that error shall be taken away, and true doctrines be taught to his people, modelled by the rule of the Gospel.”
Three days later when Ralph came into his master’s room, Cromwell looked up at him with a strange animation in his dark eyes.
“Good-day, sir,” he said; “I have news that I hope will please you. His Grace intends to confer on me one more mark of his favour. I am to be Earl of Essex.”
It was startling news. Ralph had supposed that the minister was not standing so high with the King as formerly, since the unfortunate incident of the Cleves marriage. He congratulated him warmly.
“It is a happy omen,” said the other. “Let us pray that it be a constellation and not a single star. There are others of my friends, Mr. Torridon, who have claim to His Highness’ gratitude.”
He looked at him smiling; and Ralph felt his heart quicken once more, as it always did, at the hint of an honour for himself.