That evening the prince, all in black velvet and diamonds, made his first call on the woman whom he was to marry two days later. They talked together in Spanish for half an hour, and the next day they had another meeting, and Philip--now in black velvet and silver--stood with the queen under the canopy of state. She kissed him in greeting, and they talked together before the hundreds of ladies and nobles in the great audience hall. On the following day came the marriage, and then there was such gleaming of pearls and blazing of rubies and flashing of diamonds as one might see in a splendid dream. "Who giveth this woman to be married to this man?" asked the archbishop, and four great nobles of the kingdom came forward and answered, "We do give her in the name of the whole realm of England." A plain gold ring was put on the queen's finger, for "I will marry with a plain hoop of gold like any other maiden," she had said. The people shouted, "God save our Queen! God send them joy!" and Mary of England had become the wife of Philip of Spain. While the wedding rejoicings were going on, Elizabeth was a prisoner at Woodstock. What was to be done with her was the question. There was some reason to think that she had known of the plot to dethrone the queen, and in any case, if she was free, any leader of an insurrection could have an opportunity to try to win her support. Mary did not wish to keep her in the Tower, and she thought of sending her to some of her own Spanish relatives on the continent, but the royal marriage helped to decide the question, for Prince Philip expressed himself very decidedly to his royal wife that it would be best to set Elizabeth free. "I would do it most gladly," said Mary, "could I be sure of her innocence." "Does not your English law claim that one is innocent till he is proved guilty?" "True," replied Mary, "but there is proof and there is no proof. My councilors declare that to set her free will be to say that she has been unjustly imprisoned." "Can she not be induced to confess that she has done wrong and throw herself on your mercy?" "Never," answered the queen quickly. "I have known her since she was a little child. When she storms and rages, she will yield, but when she quietly persists, she stands firm. I will see her. Nothing do I long for more than to believe that she is guiltless." Elizabeth was sent for, and late one evening she had an audience with the queen. The younger sister knelt with her eyes full of tears and sobbed:-- "I beg your Majesty to believe in my truth and loyalty, no matter who shall say to the contrary." "Then you will not confess," returned Mary. "You persist in declaring that you are innocent." "If I am not innocent," said Elizabeth solemnly, "never again will I ask favor or kindness from the hands of your Grace."