Dire was the result.

The wintry gales which had been lashing the North Sea, and preventing the unfortunate Davison from setting forth on his disastrous mission, were nothing to the tempest of royal wrath which had been shaking the court-world to its centre.

The Queen had been swearing most fearfully ever since she read the news, which Leicester had not dared to communicate directly, to herself.

No one was allowed to speak a word in extenuation of the favourite's offence.

Burghley, who lifted up his voice somewhat feebly to appease her wrath, was bid, with a curse, to hold his peace.