the crown, if your Majesty's wisdom sets not apart, gives not to her
country, one whom the nation can surround with its care, encompass
lovingly by its duty."

The talk with Angele had had a curious influence upon the Queen.
It was plain that now she was moved by real feeling, and that, though
she deceived herself, or pretended so to do, shutting her eyes to sober
facts, and dreaming old dreams--as it were, in a world where never was a
mirror nor a timepiece--yet there was working in her a fresher spirit,
urging her to a fairer course than she had shaped for many a day.

"My lords and gentlemen and my beloved subjects," she answered presently,
and for an instant set her eyes upon Angele, then turned to them again,
"I pray you stand and hear me. . . . Ye have spoken fair words to my
face, and of my face, and of the person of this daughter of great Henry,
from whom I got whatever grace or manner or favour is to me; and by all
your reasoning you do flatter the heart of the Queen of England, whose
mind indeed sleeps not in deed or desire for this realm. Ye have drawn a
fair picture of this mortal me, and though from the grace of the picture
the colours may fade by time, may give by weather, may be spoiled by
chance, yet my loyal mind, nor time with her swift wings shall overtake,
nor the misty clouds may darken, nor chance with her slippery foot may
overthrow. It sets its course by the heart of England, and when it
passeth there shall be found that one shall be left behind who shall be
surety of all that hath been lying in the dim warehouse of fate for
England's high future. Be sure that in this thing I have entered into
the weigh-house, and I hold the balance, and ye shall be well satisfied.
Ye have been fruitful in counsel, ye have been long knitting a knot never
tied, ye shall have comfort soon. But know ye beyond peradventure that I
have bided my time with good reason. If our loom be framed with rotten