Such, at fifty-three, was Elizabeth Tudor.  A gentle whisper of idolatry from the lips of the man she loved, and she was wax in his hands.  Where now were the vehement protestations of horror that her public declaration of principles and motives had been set at nought?  Where now were her vociferous denunciations of the States, her shrill invectives against Leicester, her big oaths, and all the ‘hysterica passio,’ which had sent poor Lord Burghley to bed with the gout, and inspired the soul of Walsingham with dismal forebodings?  Her anger had dissolved into a shower of tenderness, and if her parsimony still remained it was because that could only vanish when she too should cease to be.

And thus, for a moment, the grave diplomatic difference between the crown of England and their high mightinesses the United States—­upon the solution of which the fate of Christendom was hanging—­seemed to shrink to the dimensions of a lovers’ quarrel.  Was it not strange that the letter had been so long delayed?

Davison had exhausted argument in defence of the acceptance by the Earl of the authority conferred by the States and had gained nothing by his eloquence, save abuse from the Queen, and acrimonious censure from the Earl.  He had deeply offended both by pleading the cause of the erring favourite, when the favourite should have spoken for himself.  “Poor Mr. Davison,” said Walsingham, “doth take it very grievously that your Lordship should conceive so hardly of him as you do.  I find the conceit of your Lordship’s disfavour hath greatly dejected him.  But at such time as he arrived her Majesty was so incensed, as all the arguments and orators in the world could not have wrought any satisfaction.”

But now a little billet-doux had done what all the orators in the world could not do.  The arguments remained the same, but the Queen no longer “misliked that Leicester should have the authority.”  It was natural that the Lord Treasurer should express his satisfaction at this auspicious result.

“I did commend her princely nature,” he said, “in allowing your good intention, and excusing you of any spot of evil meaning; and I thought good to hasten her resolution, which you must now take to come from a favourable good mistress.  You must strive with your nature to throw over your shoulder that which is past.”

Sir Walter Raleigh, too, who had been “falsely and pestilently” represented to the Earl as an enemy, rather than what he really was, a most ardent favourer of the Netherland cause, wrote at once to congratulate him on the change in her Majesty’s demeanour.  “The Queen is in very good terms with you now,” he said, “and, thanks be to God, well pacified, and you are again her ‘sweet Robin.’”