be for me to get my foot into the Palace, so as to speak oftener with the Queen, as she is a woman very fond of argument.” The great question for the Spaniards was Elizabeth’s marriage. If she married a Protestant or a man open to French influence, the effect upon Spanish interests might be disastrous. The gossip on the subject at Court shifted from day to day—sometimes an English suitor, sometimes Prince Eric, sometimes one of the Archdukes, Philip’s cousins, being the favourite. Savoy was always rejected by public voice, because of the fear that he might drag England into war with France to recover his dominions. None of the suitors mentioned except Savoy would have suited Spanish ends. The Archdukes, if they would accept the absolute dictation of their cousin Philip, would have been the least objectionable of the foreign Princes: but Philip was not on very good terms with the Austrian branch of his family at this time; for he was still sore about the succession to the Empire, and the Archdukes were too much dependent upon the Lutherans to please him. So the conviction grew in Feria’s mind that the only satisfactory solution would be for Philip to marry Elizabeth himself. He proposed to appeal to her pride, and to suggest that it would be beneath her to match less splendidly than her sister. Little did either he or his master understand the subtle mind with which they had to deal. Elizabeth was, of course, anxious to keep on good terms with them, and indeed to restore England to its former position as the balancing power, but, smile and coquette as she might, she would never allow herself to be drawn into a position from which she could not retreat. Feria—impatient, scornful, and proud—began to tire of this inconclusive dallying, especially as he saw, both at Court and outside, that the Protestants were growing bolder, and the Queen herself was relaxing her orthodox observance. He complained bitterly to Philip that everything was hidden from him, and that he could learn nothing, though the Queen said that he knew too much about English affairs; that he was proud, and that she would be glad if he were recalled. “I am afraid,” he wrote, “that one fine day we shall find this woman married, and I shall be the last man to learn anything about it.... I overlook many things and try not to take offence or to appear inquisitive; but their enmity and evil consciences make them so suspicious of me that they think I know everything, and in return for all my efforts to please, I believe that they would like to see me thrown into the river—that is to say, the Queen and her friends would—for the Catholics and goodly people are glad that your Majesty should gain ground here.”