Her tone—­was however no longer benignant, and her directions were extremely peremptory.  On the 1st of April she had congratulated Leicester, Heneage, the States, and all the world, that her secret commands had been staid, and that the ruin which would have followed, had, those decrees been executed according to her first violent wish, was fortunately averted.  Heneage was even censured, not by herself, but by courtiers in her confidence, and with her concurrence, for being over hasty in going before the state-council, as he had done, with her messages and commands.  On the 26th of April she expressed astonishment that Heneage had dared to be so dilatory, and that the title of governor had not been laid down by Leicester “out of hand.”  She marvelled greatly, and found it very strange that “ministers in matters of moment should presume to do things of their own head without direction.”  She accordingly gave orders that there should be no more dallying, but that the Earl should immediately hold a conference with the state-council in order to arrange a modification in his commission.  It was her pleasure that he should retain all the authority granted to him by the States, but as already intimated by her, that he should abandon the title of “absolute governor,” and retain only that of her lieutenant-general.

Was it strange that Heneage, placed in so responsible a situation, and with the fate of England, of Holland, and perhaps of all Christendom, hanging in great measure upon this delicate negotiation, should be amazed at such contradictory orders, and grieved by such inconsistent censures?

“To tell you my griefs and my lacks,” said he to Walsingham, “would little please you or help me.  Therefore I will say nothing, but think there was never man in so great a service received so little comfort and so contrarious directions.  But ‘Dominus est adjutor in tribulationibus.’  If it be possible, let me receive some certain direction, in following which I shall not offend her Majesty, what good or hurt soever I do besides.”

This certainly seemed a loyal and reasonable request, yet it was not one likely to be granted.  Sir Thomas, perplexed, puzzled, blindfolded, and brow-beaten, always endeavoring to obey orders, when he could comprehend them, and always hectored and lectured whether he obeyed them or not—­ruined in purse by the expenses, of a mission on which he had been sent without adequate salary—­appalled at the disaffection waging more formidable every hour in Provinces which were recently so loyal to her Majesty, but which were now pervaded by a suspicion that there was double-dealing upon her part became quite sick of his life.  He fell seriously ill, and was disappointed, when, after a time, the physicians declared him convalescent.  For when when he rose from his sick-bed, it was only to plunge once more, without a clue, into the labyrinth where he seemed to be losing his reason.  “It is not long,” said he to Walsingham, “since