stinacy of his determination
this prelate speedily became the incarnate expression of the fury of the
ecclesiastical faction, smarting, as they were, under their long
degradation, and under the irritating consciousness of those false oaths
of submission which they had sworn to a power they loathed. Gardiner now
saw his Romanising party once more in a position to revenge their wrongs
when there was no longer any Henry to stand between them and their
enemies. He would take the tide at the flood, forge a weapon keener than
the last, and establish the Inquisition.

_The Reign of Terror_

Mary listened to the worse counsels of each, and her distempered humour
settled into a confused ferocity. Both Gardiner and she resolved to
secure the trial, condemnation, and execution of her sister Elizabeth,
but their plans utterly miscarried, for no evidence against her could be
gathered. The princess was known to be favourable to the Protestant
cause, but the attempts to prove her disloyalty to Mary were vain. She
was imprisoned in the Tower, and the fatal net appeared to be closing on
her. But though the danger of her murder was very great, the lords who
had reluctantly permitted her to be imprisoned would not allow her to be
openly sacrificed, or indeed, permit the queen to continue in the career
of vengeance on which she had entered. The necessity of releasing
Elizabeth from the Tower was an unspeakable annoyance to Mary. A
confinement at Woodstock was the furthest stretch of severity that the
country would, for the present, permit. On May 19, 1554, Elizabeth was
taken up the river.

The princess believed herself that she was being carried off _tanquam
ovis_, as she said--as a sheep for the slaughter. But the world thought
she was set at liberty, and, as her barge passed under the bridge, Mary
heard with indignation, from the palace windows, three salvoes of
artillery fired from the Steelyard, as a sign of the joy of the people.
Vexations began to tell on Mary's spirit. She could not shake off her
anxieties, or escape from the shadow of her subject's hatred. Insolent
pamphlets were dropped in her path and in the offices of Whitehall. They
were placed by mysterious hands in the sanctuary of her bedroom.

Her trials began to tell on her understanding. She was ill with
hysterical longings; ill with the passions which Gardiner, as her
chancellor, had provoked, but Paget as leader of the opposing party, had
disappointed. But she