pleaded with her gracious Majesty to forego
unwillingness to marry and seek a consort worthy of her supreme
consideration, to be raised to a place beside her near that throne which
she had made the greatest in the world.

Gravely, solemnly, the chief members of the Lords and Commons spoke, and
with as weighty pauses and devoted protestations as though this were the
first time their plea had been urged, this obvious duty had been set out
before her. Long ago in the flush and pride of her extreme youth and the
full assurance of the fruits of marriage, they had spoken with the
same sober responsibility; and though her youth had gone and the old
certainty had for ever disappeared, they spoke of her marriage and its
consequences as though it were still that far-off yesterday. Well for
them that they did so, for though time had flown and royal suitors
without number had become figures dim in the people's mind, Elizabeth,
fed upon adulation, invoked, admired, besieged by young courtiers,
flattered by maids who praised her beauty, had never seen the hands
of the clock pass high noon, and still remained under the dearest and
saddest illusion which can rest in a woman's mind. Long after the hands
of life's clock had moved into afternoon, the ancient prayer was still
gravely presented that she should marry and give an heir to England's
crown; and she as solemnly listened and dropped her eyes, and strove to
hide her virgin modesty behind a high demeanour which must needs sink
self in royal duty.

"These be the dear desires of your supreme Majesty's faithful Lords and
Commons and the people of the shires whose wills they represent. Your
Majesty's life, God grant it last beyond that of the youngest of your
people so greatly blessed in your rule! But accidents of time be many;
and while the world is full of guile, none can tell what peril may beset
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 g