He was destined to be cumbered more than once before these negotiations should be concluded; but meantime; there was a brief gleam of sunshine.  The English friends of Leicester in the Netherlands were enchanted with the sudden change in the Queen’s humour; and to Lord Burghley, who was not, in reality, the most stanch of the absent Earl’s defenders, they poured themselves out in profuse and somewhat superfluous gratitude.

Cavendish, in strains exultant, was sure that Burghley’s children, grand-children, and remotest posterity, would rejoice that their great ancestor, in such a time of need had been “found and felt to be indeed a ‘pater patria,’ a good-father to a happy land.”  And, although unwilling to “stir up the old Adam” in his Lordship’s soul, he yet took the liberty of comparing the Lord Treasurer, in his old and declining years with Mary Magdalen; assuring him, that for ever after; when the tale of the preservation of the Church of God, of her Majesty; and of the Netherland cause; which were all one, should be told; his name and well-doing would be held in memory also.

And truly there was much of honest and generous enthusiasm, even if couched in language somewhat startling to the ears of a colder and more material age; in the hearts of these noble volunteers.  They were fighting the cause of England, of the Netherland republic, and of human liberty; with a valour worthy the best days of English’ chivalry, against manifold obstacles, and they were certainly; not too often cheered by the beams of royal favour.

It was a pity that a dark cloud was so soon again to sweep over the scene:  For the temper of Elizabeth at this important juncture seemed as capricious:  as the:  April weather in which the scenes were enacting.  We have seen the genial warmth of her letters and messages to Leicester, to Heneage,—­to the States-General; on the first of the month.  Nevertheless it was hardly three weeks after they had been despatched when Walsingham and Burghley found, her Majesty one morning a towering passion, because, the Earl had not already laid down the government.  The Lord Treasurer ventured to remonstrate, but was bid to bold his tongue.  Ever variable and mutable as woman, Elizabeth was perplexing and baffling to her counsellors, at this epoch, beyond all divination.  The “sparing humour” was increasing fearfully, and she thought it would be easier for her to slip out of the whole expensive enterprise, provided Leicester were merely her lieutenant-general, and not stadholder for the Provinces.  Moreover the secret negotiations for peace were producing a deleterious effect upon her mind.  Upon this subject, the Queen and Burghley, notwithstanding his resemblance to Mary Magdalen, were better informed than the Secretary, whom, however, it had been impossible wholly to deceive.  The man who could read secrets so far removed as the Vatican, was not to be blinded to intrigues going on before his face.  The Queen, without revealing more