“And what matter if it be, my lord?” rejoined Mary. “I am strong enough to maintain my own authority, and shall be right glad of some plea to put down heresy and schism by fire and sword. You are not wont to advocate this cause.”
“Nor do I advocate it now, madam,” returned Gardiner. “All I counsel is prudence. You are not yet strong enough to throw off the mask of toleration which you have hitherto worn. Your first parliament has not yet met. The statutes establishing the reformed religion are yet unrepealed, nay, though I shame to speak it, the marriage of your illustrious parents has not yet been confirmed.”
“You should shame to speak it, my lord,” rejoined Mary, fiercely; “for it is mainly by your machinations that the divorce was obtained.”
“I own it to my sorrow,” replied Gardiner, “but I then owed the same obedience to your illustrious sire that I now owe to your highness. I did your injured mother great wrong, but if I live I will repair it. This, however, is foreign to the subject. Your majesty may believe me when I tell you, your worst enemies could not desire you to take a more injudicious step, or one more fraught with danger to yourself, than to strain your prerogative against Courtenay and Elizabeth.”
“Were I to assent to your request and set them free,” replied Mary, after a moment’s reflection, “the first act of the princess would be to unite herself to this perfidious villain.”
“I do not think it,” replied Gardiner. “But what if she were to do so?”
“What!” exclaimed Mary, furiously. “The thought revives all my indignation. Am I so tame of spirit that I can bear to see him whom I have loved united to a rival I hate? No, my lord, I am not. This is no doubtful case. I have heard his treachery with my own ears, seen it with my own eyes, and I will terribly avenge myself. Courtenay never again shall behold Elizabeth. He has breathed his last false sigh, uttered his last perjured profession of love, exchanged his last look, unless they meet upon the scaffold. You know not what an injured woman feels. I have the power of avenging myself, and, by my father’s head, I will use it!”
“And when you have gratified this fell passion, madam,” returned Gardiner, “remorse will succeed, and you will bitterly regret what you have done. Since nothing better may be, and if you will not nobly, and like yourself, pardon the offenders, at least reflect before you act. If you persist in your present intention, it will be the duty of all your faithful subjects to prepare for a rebellion, for such will certainly ensue.”
“Make what preparations you deem fitting, my lord,” replied Mary. “In my father’s time the people did not dare to resist his decrees, however arbitrary.”
“The people are no longer what they were, madam, nor are you—for I must make bold to say so—in the position, or backed by the power of your dread father. What he did is no rule for you. I am no advocate for Courtenay, nor for the Princess Elizabeth. Could you avenge yourself upon them with safety, though I should lament it, I would not oppose you. But you cannot do so. Others must bleed at the same time. Remember the Lady Jane Grey and her husband yet live. You will revive their faction, and must of necessity doom them to death to prevent another rebellion. Once begun, there will be no end to bloodshed.”
“These are cogent reasons, my lord,” returned Mary, after a moment’s reflection—”supposing them well-founded.”
“And trust me, they are well-founded, gracious madam,” replied the bishop. “Do not sacrifice your kingdom—do not sacrifice the holy Catholic church which looks to you for support—to an insane thirst of vengeance.”
“Gardiner,” replied Mary, taking his hand and looking at him earnestly, “you know not how I have loved this man. Put yourself in my position. How would you act?”
“As I am assured your highness would, if you were not under the dominion of passion,” replied the bishop, “forgive him.”
“I would do so,” rejoined Mary, “but oh! if he were to wed Elizabeth, I should die. I would rather yield them my crown, my life, than consent to their espousals. But I will not think for myself. Arise, my lord. Give me your counsel, and what you recommend I will follow.”