On thinking over the recent occurrences, her feelings were so exasperated, that she exclaimed aloud, “Oh! that I could avenge myself on the perjured traitor.” “I will show you how to avenge yourself,” replied Renard. “Do so, then,” returned the queen. “Unite yourself to my master, Philip of Spain,” rejoined the ambassador. “Your cousin, the Emperor, highly desires the match. It will be an alliance worthy of you, and acceptable to your subjects. The Prince is a member of your own religion, and will enable you to restore its worship throughout your kingdom.” “I will think of it,” replied Mary, musingly. “Better act upon it,” rejoined Renard. “The prince, besides his royal birth, is in all respects more richly endowed by nature than the Earl of Devonshire.” “So I have heard him accounted,” replied Mary. “Your majesty shall judge for yourself,” rejoined Renard, producing a miniature. “Here is his portrait. The likeness is by no means flattering.” “He must be very handsome,” observed Mary, gazing at the miniature. “He is,” replied Renard; “and his highness is as eager for the alliance as his imperial father. I have ventured to send him your majesty’s portrait, and you shall hear in what rapturous terms he speaks of it.” And taking several letters from his doublet, he selected one sealed with the royal arms of Spain, from which he read several highly complimentary remarks on Mary’s personal appearance. “Enough, sir,” said Mary, checking him. “More unions are formed from pique than from affection, and mine will be one of them. I am resolved to affiance myself to the Prince of Spain, and that forthwith. I will not allow myself time to change my mind.” “Your highness is in the right,” observed Renard, eagerly. “Meet me at midnight in Saint John’s Chapel in the White Tower,” continued the queen, “where in your presence, and in the presence of Heaven, I will solemnly affiance myself to the prince.” “Your majesty transports me by your determination,” replied the ambassador. And full of joy at his unlooked-for success, he took his departure. At midnight, as appointed, Renard repaired to Saint John’s Chapel. He found the Queen, attended only by Feckenham, and kneeling before the altar, which blazed with numerous wax-lights. She had changed her dress for the ceremony, and was attired in, a loose robe of three-piled crimson velvet, trimmed with swansdown. Renard remained at a little distance, and looked on with a smile of Satanic triumph.