Gardiner's outspoken remonstrances were useless against one who pleaded an amiable incompetence. Against the churnings of Henry's conscience Clement set up the churnings of his own conscience, and no one could gainsay the Pope's right to a conscience as much as the English king. After pursuing this course during the month of March the Pope at length with sighs and tears devised a compromise, in which he feared that he had outstepped the bounds of discretion. He accepted one of the documents which the English envoys had brought, the permission for the king to marry whom he would as soon as his marriage with Katharine had been dissolved. He altered the terms of the other document, which provided for the appointment of a commission with plenary powers to pronounce on the validity of the king's marriage; he granted the commission, but did not give it plenary power; at the same time he chose as the commissioner who was to sit with Wolsey Cardinal Campeggio, who was the protector of England in the Papal Court, and who was rewarded for his services by holding the bishopric of Hereford. In this way he showed every mark of goodwill to Henry short of acquiescing entirely in the procedure which he proposed; but he kept the final decision of the matter in his own hands.
Gardiner was not wholly pleased with this result of his skill and firmness: after all his efforts to obtain a definite solution the Pope had managed to escape from giving any binding promise. Still, Foxe put a good face on Gardiner's exploits when he returned to England in the end of April. Henry and Anne Boleyn were delighted, and Wolsey, though he was more dissatisfied than Gardiner, thought it best to be hopeful. He tried to bind the Pope more firmly, and instructed Gardiner to press that the law relating to Henry's case should be laid down in a papal decretal, so that the legates should only have to determine the question of fact; this decretal he promised to keep entirely secret; besides this, he urged that there should be no delay in sending Campeggio.
During these months of expectancy Wolsey condescended to ingratiate himself with Anne Boleyn, who had become a political personage of the first importance. Anne was sure of Wolsey's devotion to her interests so long as they were also the king's, and could not dispense with Wolsey's skill. So she was kindly, and wrote friendly letters to Wolsey, and asked for little gifts of tunny-fish and shrimps. The English Court again resembled an amiable family party, whose members were all of one mind. In the course of the summer they were all thrown into terror by an outbreak of the "Sweating Sickness," which devastated the country. Anne Boleyn was attacked, though not severely; and Henry showed that his devotion to her did not proceed to the length of risking his own precious life for her sake. He fled to Waltham, and Anne was left with her father; Henry protested by letter his unalterable affection, but kept out of harm's way till all risk of infection was past. At the same time he showed great solicitude for Wolsey's health, as did also Anne Boleyn. It seemed as though Wolsey were never more useful or more highly esteemed.