a goad, beside that of his own ambition, to drive him
through this desperate stir; he found a sufficient one in his memory. He
did not think much of his own family, except with sharp contempt. He did
not even trouble to make any special report about Chris or Margaret; but
it was impossible to remember Beatrice with contempt. When she had left
him kneeling at his table, she had left something besides--the sting of
her words, and the bitter coldness of her eyes.

As he looked back he did not know whether he loathed her or loved her;
he only knew that she affected him profoundly. Again and again as he
dealt brutally with some timid culprit, or stood with his hand on his
hip to direct the destruction of a shrine, the memory whipped him on his
raw soul. He would show her whether he were a man or no; whether he
depended on her or no; whether her woman's tongue could turn him or no.

* * * * *

He was exercised now with very different matters. Religious affairs for
the present had fallen into a secondary place, and home and foreign
politics absorbed most of Cromwell's energies and time. Forces were
gathering once more against England, and the Catholic powers were coming
to an understanding with one another against the country that had thrown
off allegiance to the Pope and the Empire. There was an opportunity,
however, for Henry's propensity to marriage once more to play a part in
politics; he had been three years without a wife; and Cromwell had
hastened for the third time to avail himself of the King's passions as
an instrument in politics. He had understood that a union between
England and the Lutheran princes would cause a formidable obstacle to
Catholic machinations; and with this in view had excited Henry by a
description and a picture of the Lady Anne, daughter of the Duke of
Cleves and sister-in-law of the Elector of Saxony. He had been perfectly
successful in the first stages; the stout duchess had landed at Deal at
the end of December; and the marriage had been solemnised a few days
later. But unpleasant rumour had been busy ever since; it was whispered
far and wide that the King loathed his wife, and complained that he had
been deceived as to her charms; and Ralph, who was more behind the
scenes than most men, knew that the rumour was only too true. He had
been present at an abominable incident the day after the marriage had
taken place, when the King had stormed and raved about the c