“I am equally beholden to his Eminence,” said Philip. “He has spoken the truth to me, and awakened me to a sense of my folly.”
“I have called your Majesty’s good feelings into play, that is all,” rejoined Pole. “Henceforth, I trust that nothing will disturb the good understanding that ought to subsist between you and your royal consort. Pardon me if I press you further, Sire. Your heart being opened to kindly emotions, you will not refuse to listen to me. It is in your power to make ample amends to poor Constance Tyrrell for the misery she has endured, by giving your consent to her marriage with Osbert Clinton.”
“I will add my entreaties to those of the Cardinal,” said the Queen. “Let it be so. I pray you.”
“If your Eminence will reclaim her from heresy I will not refuse my consent,” replied Philip.
“I ask no more,” rejoined Pole; “and I trust their nuptials will not long be delayed.”
“They shall never take place,” mentally ejaculated Philip. “Your Majesty may desire some private converse with his Eminence,” he added to the Queen. “I will go and dismiss Bonner, who is waiting without. He will not trouble your Eminence further.”
And he quitted the chamber.
