“Alas! madam,” cried Gardiner, “I understand your words too well. You have taken a perilous step, at the instigation of evil counsellors, and under the influence of evil passions. God grant good may come of it!”
“These are mere surmises on your part, my lord,” returned Mary. “I have not told you I have taken any step.”
“But your majesty leads me to infer it,” answered the bishop. “For your own sake, and for the sake of your kingdom, I trust my fears are unfounded.”
As he spoke, an usher approached, and informed the queen that the imperial ambassador, Simon Renard, desired an audience.
“Admit him,” said Mary. “Farewell, my lord,” she added, turning to Gardiner; “I will weigh what you have said.”
“Act upon it, gracious madam, if you can,” rejoined the bishop. “But if you are so far committed as to be unable to retreat, count upon my best services to aid you in the difficulty.” At this moment, Simon Renard entered the audience-chamber, and the expression of his countenance was so exulting, that Gardiner was convinced his conjectures were not far wide of the truth. His first object, on quitting the royal presence, was to seek out Feckenham, from whom he succeeded in eliciting the fact of the betrothment in Saint John’s chapel; and with a breast full of trouble he returned to his own apartments. On the way thither, he encountered De Noailles.
“Well met, my lord,” cried the ambassador. “I was about to seek you. So, it seems all our projects are ruined. Courtenay is disgraced and imprisoned.”
“His folly has destroyed the fairest chance that ever man possessed,” observed the bishop. “He is now irretrievably lost.”
“Not irretrievably, I trust, my good lord,” replied Do Noailles. “A woman’s mind is proverbially changeful. And when this jealous storm is blown over, I doubt not he will, again bask in the full sunshine of royal favour.”
“Your excellency is in the wrong,” rejoined Gardiner. “The queen will never forgive him, or, what is equally to be lamented, will never unite herself to him.”