“Oh! think not so, gracious Madam—think not so!” cried Pole. “If the consummation you dread were to happen—which Heaven, in its goodness, avert!—and fill the land with sorrow—the King, your husband, would be more devoted to you than ever.”
“Hear me, my Lord Cardinal,” said Mary, grasping his arm convulsively. “I have already lost my husband’s love, if I ever possessed it, which I more than doubt. Were I to disappoint his expectations now, he would leave me.”
“I say he would,” rejoined the Queen. “This is the only tie that binds us together. I cannot give him my kingdom, and if I fail to give him an heir, through whom he may exercise the sovereignty, he will return to Spain.”
“I cannot believe him so ungrateful,” cried Pole. “Your Majesty does him injustice.”
“His conduct towards me leaves no doubt as to his intentions,” rejoined Mary. “On our first meeting he vowed he loved me, but his vows were false. I am not blind to my defects. I know that I have few charms of person to attract him—that I have neither youth nor beauty. But I gave him a deep, true love. Moreover, I gave him a kingdom. How has he requited me?—by neglect, by harshness, by infidelity.”
“Oh! Madam, I would willingly discredit what I hear,” cried Pole. “If it be as you represent, I pity you from the bottom of my heart.”
“My sainted mother, Queen Katharine of Aragon, was most unhappy,” pursued Mary; “but I am little less unhappy. Neglected, injured, scorned as I am by my husband, I cannot, despite the efforts I make, shake off the love I bear him. I summon pride to my aid, but in vain. My heart is wrung with jealousy, but I hide my torments. What shall I do if I lose him?”
“You will not lose him, gracious Madam—fear it not,” exclaimed Pole. “I will remonstrate with him. I will convince him of the wickedness of his conduct.”
“Proceed with caution, or you will only make matters worse,” said Mary. “Were I to lose him, I should die.”
“Do not distress yourself thus, Madam,” said Pole. “Exalted as is your station, it does not exempt you from the ordinary sufferings of humanity—nay, it exposes you to greater ills than fall to the lot of those less loftily placed. The King is unworthy of your love, I grant, but I counsel you not to resent his neglect, nor to reproach him. Bear yourself ever gently towards him, ever maintaining your own dignity, and if you win not back his love, you are certain to gain his esteem.”