Cromwell retired in vexation. He wrote to Vaughan; but the king found the letter too weak, and Cromwell had to correct it to make it harmonize with the wrath of the prince.[104] An ambitious man, he bent before the obstinate will of his master; but the loss of Tyndale seemed irreparable. Accordingly, while informing Vaughan of the king’s anger, he added that, if wholesome reflection should bring Tyndale to reason, the king was ‘_so inclined to mercy, pity, and compassion_’[105] that he would doubtless see him with pleasure. Vaughan, whose heart Tyndale had gained, began to hunt after him again, and had a second interview with him. He gave him Cromwell’s letter to read, and, when the Reformer came to the words we have just quoted about Henry’s compassion, his eyes filled with tears.[106] ‘What gracious words!’ he exclaimed. ‘Yes,’ said Vaughan; ‘they have such sweetness that they would break the hardest heart in the world.’ Tyndale, deeply moved, tried to find some mode of fulfilling his duty towards God and towards the king. ‘If his Majesty,’ he said, ‘would condescend to permit the Holy Scriptures to circulate among the people in all their purity, as they do in the states of the emperor and in other Christian countries, I would bind myself never to write again. I would throw myself at his feet, offering my body as a sacrifice, ready to submit, if necessary, to torture and death.’ But a gulf lay between the monarch and the Reformer. Henry VIII. saw the seeds of heresy in the Scriptures, and Tyndale rejected every reformation which they wished to carry out by proscribing the Bible. ‘Heresy springeth not from the Scriptures,’ he said, ‘no more than darkness from the sun.’[107] Tyndale disappeared again, and the name of his hiding-place is unknown. [Sidenote: Henry Fails To Gain Tynsdale.]