dered a provisional and not a
final one.

Until this soothing intelligence could arrive in the Netherlands the
suspicions concerning the underhand negotiations with Spain grew daily
more rife, and the discredit cast upon the Earl more embarrassing. The
private letters which passed between the Earl's enemies in Holland and in
England contained matter more damaging to himself and to the cause which
he had at heart than the more public reports of modern days can
disseminate, which, being patent to all, can be more easily contradicted.
Leicester incessantly warned his colleagues of her Majesty's council
against the malignant manufacturers of intelligence. "I pray you, my
Lords, as you are wise," said he, "beware of them all. You shall find
them here to be shrewd pick-thinks, and hardly worth the hearkening
unto."

He complained bitterly of the disgrace that was heaped upon him, both
publicly and privately, and of the evil consequences which were sure to
follow from the course pursued. "Never was man so villanously handled by
letters out of England as I have been," said he, "not only advertising
her Majesty's great dislike with me before this my coming over, but that
I was an odious man in England, and so long as I tarried here that no
help was to be looked for, that her Majesty would send no more men or
money, and that I was used here but for a time till a peace were
concluded between her Majesty and the Prince of Parma. What the
continuance of a man's discredit thus will turn out is to be thought of,
for better I were a thousand times displaced than that her Majesty's
great advantage of so notable Provinces should be hindered."

As to the peace-negotiations--which, however cunningly managed, could not
remain entirely concealed--the Earl declared them to be as idle as they
were disingenuous. "I will boldly pronounce that all the peace you can
make in the world, leaving these countries," said he to Burghley, "will
never prove other than a fair spring for a few days, to be all over
blasted with a hard storm after." Two days later her Majesty's comforting
letters arrived, and the Earl began to raise his drooping head. Heneage,
too, was much relieved, but he was, at the same time, not a little
perplexed. It was not so easy to undo all the mischief created by the
Queen's petulance. The "scorpion's sting"--as her Majesty expressed
herself--might be balsamed, but the poison had spread far beyond the
original wound.

"The lett