Elizabeth declined to receive personally either Feria or Dassonleville until she approached London, though Feria sent her an amiable message by Lady Clinton when she arrived at the Charter House, and a splendid ring from Philip by Controller Parry. At the Charter House on the following day the ambassador first saluted the Queen. He was a gallant, handsome gentleman, one of the first nobles in Spain; and Elizabeth was most gracious to him, taking off her glove as soon as he entered the room, in order that he might kiss her hand. The chamber was crowded with people, and it was, of course, no time for political business. He was only in England, he assured her, in order to serve her and let her royal brother-in-law know how best he might gratify her wishes, so as to help forward the good understanding already existing. Feria ventured to touch lightly upon religion, hoping that she would be careful on that point; but to this she gave a broad reply, which Feria thought equivocal. When he left her she had almost allayed his fears, so fine was her diplomacy, and he sent her that day by Lady Clinton two more rings that had belonged to Mary—“as I saw she was so fond of her jewels, and I thought best to give her even the poorest of them.” He saw her again three days afterwards at Somerset House, where she was staying, and told her that a truce had been settled between France and Spain during the peace negotiations. She showed her suspicions in a moment, thinking that the intention was to isolate her and leave her at hostilities with France. By means of Cecil, however, Feria persuaded her that her fears were unfounded; and in another conversation she exerted all her blandishments upon him to convince him that her leanings were not towards the French, whilst he further delighted her by telling her that he had at Whitehall and at her disposal a casket of jewels that had belonged to her sister. In this sort of intercourse Elizabeth was a match for any one living. It was not until Feria tried to pledge her to anything that he found out his powerlessness. He had occupied the royal residence called Durham Place, in the Strand, as a dwelling house, but he had also apartments at Whitehall, and he tried hard to obtain a renewal of these, “although I am much afraid they will not give it to me. I have little chance of talking to people unless I am inside the Palace, and they are so suspicious of me that, as the late Chancellor (Heath) plainly told me, nobody dares to speak to me.... They are very glad to be free of your Majesty, as though you had done them harm instead of good. Although in several of my letters to your Majesty I have said how small a party you have here, I am never satisfied that I have said enough to describe things as they really are. I am so isolated from them that I am much embarrassed and puzzled to get the means of discovering what is going on; for truly they run away from me as if I were the devil. The best way will