Buckingham, the
nobler nature of the two, had by his petulance and arrogance kept
himself in hot water with the Spanish court. Altogether, the adventure
had not been a success.
The bride was to follow the prince to England in the spring. But the
farther he got from Madrid the less Charles felt that he wanted her. His
love, which had grown as he came, diminished as he went. It had then
spread over his fancy like leaves on a tree in spring; now it fell from
him like leaves from an October tree. It had been largely made up, at
the best, of fancy and vanity, and blown to a white heat by the
obstacles which had been thrown in his way. It cooled with every mile
that took him from Madrid.
To the port of Santander moved the princely train. As it entered that
town, the bells were rung and cannon fired in welcoming peals. A fleet
lay there, sent to convey him home, one of the ships having a
gorgeously-decorated cabin for the infanta,--who was not there to occupy
it.
Late in the day as it was, Charles was so eager to leave the detested
soil of Spain, that he put off in a boat after nightfall for the fleet.
It was a movement not without its peril. The wind blew, the tide was
strong, the rowers proved helpless against its force, and the boat with
its precious freight would have been carried out to sea had not one of
the sailors managed to seize a rope that hung by the side of a ship
which they were being rapidly swept past.
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