“Ay, at once,” rejoined the King. “I will have his head before my departure to-morrow. Then I shall be sure that my injunctions are obeyed. Here is the warrant,” he added, placing a scroll of parchment before her. “Sign it.” Mary, however, manifested great reluctance, and was still appealing to the King, who continued inflexible, when Sir Henry Bedingfeld appeared, and making a profound obeisance to the royal pair, said, “I await your Majesty’s commands.” “I shall be ready for you in an instant, good Sir Henry,” rejoined the King. “Sign it, Madam—sign it,” he added quickly to the Queen. “Why do you hesitate?” “Because——” And she glanced towards Constance, who had now turned aside, weeping. “I owe my life to her,” she added. “Ought I to requite her thus?” “I have said I will not depart without assurance of this traitor’s death,” rejoined Philip; “and your reluctance shows how my orders would be obeyed in my absence. Sir Henry Bedingfeld awaits the warrant.” Thus urged, Mary took up the pen, when Pole interposed. “A moment, Madam,” he cried. “Ere you sign that death-warrant, I crave permission to say a few words to his Majesty.” “I am entirely at your Eminence’s disposal,” rejoined Philip, advancing towards him. “Sire,” said Pole, “you will, I am assured, acknowledge that Heaven’s bounties have been bestowed upon you with a lavish hand.” Philip assented, and Pole went on. “You have been summoned to the greatest throne in Europe, and while your heart is naturally elated by what you have gained, it should be opened to the kindliest and most generous emotions. Let your first act be one which shall show you are influenced by such feelings.” “What would you have me do?” replied Philip, somewhat coldly. “I am about to testify my gratitude to Heaven by public prayer and thanksgiving in Westminster Abbey, by largesses to my attendants, by liberal donations of alms to the poor, and in various other ways, as my confessor shall direct, and as I trust will meet with your Eminence’s approval.” “All this is well,” replied the Cardinal; “and yet your heart may not be touched as I would have it. Perform a noble deed. Osbert Clinton has deeply offended you. His life is in your hands. Pardon him.” “I cannot pardon him,” replied Philip. “I have sworn that he shall die.” “I will absolve you of your oath,” said the Cardinal. “The occasion is one that demands from you some self-sacrifice, and you must make it.” “I would do aught in my power to gratify your Eminence, to whom I am infinitely beholden, but I cannot forego an act of just vengeance,” replied Philip. “I have purposely delayed this execution, not from any intention of sparing the traitor, but because I would prolong his punishment. To-morrow he dies. Press me no more, for I must perforce refuse your request. I will not be balked of my revenge.” “It is well, Sire,” replied Pole. “But I warn you that you will repent your indulgence of this evil passion.”