were lifted; and the countless sails of the invincible Armada, wafting
defiance and destruction to England, became dimly visible. He felt that
the great Netherland bulwark of Protestantism and liberty was to be
defended at all hazards, and that the death-grapple could not long be
deferred.

Burghley, deeply pondering, but less determined, was still disposed to
look on and to temporize.

The Queen, far-seeing and anxious, but somewhat hesitating, still clung
to the idea of a joint protectorate. She knew that the reestablishment
of Spanish authority in the Low Countries would be fatal to England, but
she was not yet prepared to throw down the gauntlet to Philip. She felt
that the proposed annexation of the Provinces to France would be almost
as formidable; yet she could not resolve, frankly and fearlessly, to
assume, the burthen of their protection. Under the inspiration of
Burghley, she was therefore willing to encourage the Netherlanders
underhand; preventing them at every hazard from slackening in their
determined hostility to Spain; discountenancing, without absolutely
forbidding, their proposed absorption by France; intimating, without
promising, an ultimate and effectual assistance from herself. Meantime,
with something of feline and feminine duplicity, by which the sex of the
great sovereign would so often manifest itself in the most momentous
affairs, she would watch and wait, teasing the Provinces, dallying with
the danger, not quite prepared as yet to abandon the prize to Henry or
Philip, or to seize it herself.

The situation was rapidly tending to become an impossible one.

Late in October a grave conference was held council, "upon the question