“I shall do my duty without fear, Sire,” replied Pole, firmly. “I well know what my resistance to the will of King Henry cost me. Because he could not reach me he struck at those most dear to me—at my sainted mother, the Countess of Salisbury, at my beloved brother, the Lord Montague, at my friends the Marquis of Exeter and Sir Edward Nevil, and at the young and gallant Earl of Surrey. On all these he wreaked the vengeance which ought to have alighted on my head. But I shall not fly now. I shall stay to answer for my acts in person.” “Pshaw!” exclaimed Philip, changing his tone. “Your Eminence takes the matter too seriously. I desire no quarrel with you, or with the Church. It would be idle to do so on an affair so trifling as the present.” “The affair is not trifling, Sire,” rejoined Pole. “The liberty, the honour, the life of a poor damsel are at stake.” “That is your Eminence’s version of the business,” said Philip. “You are simply protecting a heretic. I counsel you to give up the girl peaceably. ’Twill be best.” “I have already stated my determination, Sire,” rejoined Pole. “Madam, I take my leave.” “Stop, my Lord Cardinal,” cried Mary. “Depart not thus, I beseech you. For my sake, tarry a few minutes longer. Perchance his Majesty may relent.” “I would tarry till midnight if I thought so,” replied Pole. “Oh, Sire,” he added to Phillip, “let me make a final appeal to the latent generosity and goodness of your nature. You have many high and noble qualities, inherited from your august father. Let me sway you now. Be not governed by wild and unhallowed passions, the gratification of which will endanger your eternal welfare. If you sin, you must not hope to escape chastisement; and as your sin will be great, so will your chastisement be severe. Wrongs, such as you would inflict upon her Majesty, are visited with Heaven’s direst wrath, and years of prayer and penance will not procure you pardon. Cast off these delusions and snares. You are fortunately united to a Queen as eminent for virtue as for rank, whose heart is entirely given to you, and who has just proved that she will obey you in all things. In every respect she is worthy of your love. She is your equal in birth, devout and pure, a loving wife, and a great Queen. To sacrifice her true and holy affection for lighter love would be unpardonable ingratitude. In all the highest qualifications of a woman, as purity, piety, judgment, discretion, dignity, none can surpass your consort, and you must be insensible indeed not to estimate her merits aright.” “I do estimate them—estimate them at their true worth,” cried Philip. “Your Eminence has roused the better nature in me, and made me sensible of my faults, and ashamed of them. Forgive me, Madam,” he added to Mary. And as he spoke he approached the Queen, who threw her arms fondly about his neck, exclaiming, “Oh, my good Lord Cardinal, I owe this happiness to you.”