I was so touched I held out my hand, which he took and kissed fervently. He was a little too bold, perhaps, a little too intense, but I was honest enough to admit that I liked his fervor.

I said: “Thank you, Lord Robert. You may go now. I shall not forget this magnanimous offer. I may hold you to it, you know.”

“I shall be here whenever you need me.”

He bowed low and departed.

I went to my room. I did not want to speak to anyone for a while. I just wanted to think of him. I would remember every word he had said, every inflection of his voice, every expression which had touched his handsome face, the ardor in his eyes.

I should see him again soon and perhaps then I should be Queen.

MY SISTER KNEW that she was dying. I heard that she had received a letter from Philip in which he urged her to name me her heir. I did not see that that was important. I was her heir on the terms of my father's will. It was not for Mary to name me, or anyone else. But it did show that Philip realized I must follow her. He must have been extremely nervous about French aspirations through Mary Stuart and I still believed that in his heart he was hoping to marry me. I was certain that he was a little enamored of my person and because of his nature he would look forward to marriage with one who was young and attractive; moreover, in his arrogant way he would think he was quite capable of bending me to his will. How mistaken he was!

I was a little surprised when two members of Mary's Council arrived. I thought they might well have come to announce her death and I was wondering whether I should believe them. I had to watch for traps. I had said that I would not accept that my sister was dead until I held her gold and ebony ring in my hands, and I meant that.

But the councilors had not come to kneel to me as their Queen. They bowed with due deference and one of them said: “The Queen has sent us to Your Grace to tell you that it is her intention to bequeath the royal crown to you. In return for this favor there are three conditions with which you must comply. The first is that you will not change the Privy Council; the second that you will make no alteration in religion; and thirdly that you will discharge the Queen's debts and satisfy her creditors.”

I felt anger rising within me, but I said calmly enough that I could satisfy her on the last of these matters with the utmost ease as she was asking nothing more than what was just. “As to the others,” I went on, “there is no reason why I should thank the Queen for her intention to give me the crown for she has neither the power to bestow it upon me nor can I be deprived of it. It is my hereditary right. I respectfully point out that I should be allowed to choose my own councilors as she chose hers.”

I could see they were really taken aback and I really believe they thought I should be overcome with gratitude because the Queen was giving her consent to what was mine by right. But now I had come to the dangerous clause: religion. It was always religion which caused the greatest trouble. The Queen was not yet dead and I still had to walk warily. I paused to consider my reply. Then I said: “As to religion, I promise this much, that I will not change it providing only that it can be proved by the word of God which shall be the only foundation and rule of my religion.”

They looked bemused, as well they might. Experience had taught me that it is always wise to be obtuse when discussing religion, and if one could bring in God as one's advocate so much the better.

The Councilors went away. I fancied they were gravely considering my words and I felt that I was getting very near to the crown.

THE NEXT CALLER was the Count de Feria, the Ambassador from Philip himself. He was extremely affable, and I was inclined to be a little aloof, for I fancied I did not have to be so careful in manner toward him as I had been in the past. He and his master would immediately lose their importance when my sister was no longer there to sustain it and it pleased me to let these arrogant Spaniards know that England was slipping out of their clutches.

He began by conveying Philip's friendly feelings toward me.

“He has ever been kindly disposed toward Your Grace,” he said. “You will remember that it was through his persuasion that you came to Court.”

“I remember it well,” I replied.

“Moreover, it was he who advised the Queen to make you her heir and you must feel gratitude toward him for this.”

There was nothing which annoyed me more than to be told that my sister had had to be persuaded to give me that to which I had a right, and I felt my anger flaring up. I said coldly: “This was no matter of persuasion. I am the heir to the throne by right of birth. As my father's daughter, I am so named in his will. Therefore no matter what your master said to my sister, my right to the throne is my own, and I believe the people of England will see right done.”

“I am sure you will be grateful for the continued friendship of my master.”

“Friendship is always to be preferred to enmity and I shall remain friendly with all those who mean well to my country.”

“Through his marriage my master became King of this country.”

“He was the Queen's consort it is true, although he spent very little time with her.”

“He had so many duties in Spain…”

“And now he will be even more engrossed in his duties,” I said, referring to the death of the Emperor Charles which had occurred the previous month.

De Feria could not deny that. I was smiling, inwardly wondering what he would report to his master.

I went on: “As you know the King, your master, urged me more than once to marry Philibert of Savoy. Ah, if I had, where should I be now? Not here, most certainly. I should have been ill advised to have listened to him.”

“My master believed at the time that it would have been an excellent match for you. He was eager for your good.”

That was too much and I need not be subservient now.

I said sharply: “Your master has the good of his own country ever at heart, and that is all that can be expected of a ruler. My sister lost favor with her people when she married a foreigner and brought him to these shores.”

De Feria was nonplussed. I wondered if he had been told to sound me out about marriage with Philip. If he had, he evidently decided that this was not the moment to raise the matter. Nor was it, with Philip's poor wife, my sister, not yet dead, certain though it was that her end was imminent.

He went away somewhat crestfallen and I felt I had handled the situation very well.

THE TENSION WAS MOUNTING. I wanted to be alone to think. Mary was dying. It could not be many days now. I went into the gardens and as I was there I heard the sound of horses' hoofs. A party of riders were close. I stood still, my heart beating fast. Then I saw them.

They were members of the Council and they could only be here on one mission.

They dismounted and came toward me. They fell to their knees.

“God save Queen Elizabeth!” they cried, and they took my hand and, in turn, kissed it and swore to serve me.

I listened to them and was exultant. This was the greatest moment of my life.

I was overcome with joy but perhaps because of the vicissitudes through which I had passed I felt strangely humble.

Often during my most dangerous moments I had made Kat read Psalm 118 with me and I knew it by heart.

“It is better to trust in the Lord than to put confidence in princes.

“Thou hast thrust sore at me that I might fall; but the Lord helped me.”

Often I had repeated those words and they came once more into my mind and I cried aloud: “This is the Lord's doing; it is marvelous in our eyes.”

EVERYONE WAS NOW converging on Hatfield, all eager to proclaim me Queen.

Nicholas Throckmorton arrived with the gold and ebony ring, and he was a little put out because the Council had reached me first. I thanked him for his good service, which I promised I should not forget.