“But these only prove, my liege, the existence of a former passion—nothing more,” remarked Suffolk, after he had scanned them.
“But she vows eternal constancy to him!” cried Henry; “says she shall ever love him—says so at the time she professes devoted love for me! How can I trust her after that? Suffolk, I feel she does not love me exclusively; and my passion is so deep and devouring, that it demands entire return. I must have her heart as well as her person; and I feel I have only won her in my quality of king.”
“I am persuaded your majesty is mistaken,” said the duke. “Would I could think so!” sighed Henry. “But no—no, I cannot be deceived. I will conquer this fatal passion. Oh, Suffolk! it is frightful to be the bondslave of a woman—a fickle, inconstant woman. But between the depths of love and hate is but a step; and I can pass from one to the other.”
“Do nothing rashly, my dear liege,” said Suffolk; “nothing that may bring with it after-repentance. Do not be swayed by those who have inflamed your jealousy, and who could practise upon it. Think the matter calmly over, and then act. And till you have decided, see neither Catherine nor Anne; and, above all, do not admit Wolsey to your secret counsels.”
“You are his enemy, Suffolk,” said the king sternly.
“I am your majesty's friend,” replied the duke. “I beseech you, yield to me on this occasion, and I am sure of your thanks hereafter.”
“Well, I believe you are right, my good friend and brother,” said Henry, “and I will curb my impulses of rage and jealousy. To-morrow, before I see either the queen or Anne, we will ride forth into the forest, and talk the matter further over.”
“Your highness has come to a wise determination,” said the duke.
“Oh, Suffolk!” sighed Henry, “would I had never seen this siren! She exercises a fearful control over me, and enslaves my very soul.”
“I cannot say whether it is for good or ill that you have met, my dear liege,” replied Suffolk, “but I fancy I can discern the way in which your ultimate decision will be taken. But it is now near midnight. I wish your majesty sound and untroubled repose.”