The violent Henry VIII.—easy-tempered for once in his life—persisted in his indifference. The seven months named by the prophetess had gone by, and the dagger with which she had threatened him had not touched him. He was in good health, had the approbation of parliament, saw the nation prosper under his government, and possessed the wife he had so passionately desired. Everything appeared to succeed with him, which disconcerted the fanatics. To encourage them Elizabeth said: 'Do not be deceived. Henry is no longer really king, and his subjects are already released from every obligation towards him. But he is like King John, who, though rejected by God, seemed still to be a king in the eyes of the world.'[28] The conspirators intrigued more than ever: not content with Catherine's alliance, they opened a communication with Margaret Plantagenet, Countess of Salisbury, niece of Edward IV., and with her children the representatives of the party of the White Rose. Hitherto this lady had refrained from politics; but her son Reginald Pole, having united with the pope and quarrelled with Henry VIII., they prevailed upon her to carry over to the Princess Mary, whose household she directed, the forces of the party of which she was the head. [Sidenote: THE CONSPIRATORS ARRESTED.] The conspirators believed themselves sure of victory; but at the very moment when they imagined themselves on the point of restoring the papacy in England, their whole scheme suddenly fell to the ground. The country was in danger: the state must interfere. Cranmer and Cromwell were the first to discover the approaching storm. Canterbury, the primate's archiepiscopal city, was the centre of the criminal practices of the Kentish girl. One day the prioress of the Holy Sepulchre received the following note from Cranmer: 'Come to my palace next Friday; bring your nun with you. Do not fail.'[29] The two women duly came; Elizabeth's head was so turned that she saw in everything that happened the opportunity of a new triumph. This time she was deceived. The prelate questioned her; she obstinately maintained the truth of her revelations, but did not convince the archbishop, who had her taken to Cromwell, by whom she was sent to the Tower with five other nuns of her party. At first Elizabeth proudly stuck to her character of prophetess; but imprisonment, the searching questions of the judges, and the grief she felt on seeing her falsehoods discovered, made her give way at last. The unhappy creature, a blind tool of the priests, was not entirely wanting in proper feeling. She began to understand her offence and to repent of it: she confessed everything. 'I never had a vision in all my life,' she declared;[30] 'whatever I said was of my own imagination; I invented it to please the people about me and to attract the homage of the world.' The disorder, which had weakened her head, had much to do with her aberrations. Master, Bocking, Goold, Deering, and others