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diff --git a/42521.txt b/42521.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 0c579df..0000000 --- a/42521.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,17825 +0,0 @@ - GOD AND THE KING - - - - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost -no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it -under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this -eBook or online at http://www.gutenberg.org/license. - - - -Title: God and The King -Author: Marjorie Bowen -Release Date: April 12, 2013 [EBook #42521] -Language: English -Character set encoding: US-ASCII - - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GOD AND THE KING *** - - - - -Produced by Al Haines. - - - GOD AND THE - KING - - - BY - - MARJORIE BOWEN - - AUTHOR OF "I WILL MAINTAIN" - - - - 'LUCTOR ET EMERGO - MOTTO OF ZEELAND - - - - METHUEN & GO. LTD - 36 ESSEX STREET W.C. - LONDON - - - - - _Published in 1911_ - - - - - DEDICATED - VERY GRATEFULLY - TO - MAJOR-GENERAL F. DE BAS - DIRECTOR OF THE MILITARY HISTORICAL BRANCH - GENERAL STAFF OF THE DUTCH ARMY - - - - - CONTENTS - - PART I - THE REVOLUTION - -CHAP. - - I. THE AFTERNOON OF JUNE 30TH, 1688 - II. THE EVENING OF JUNE 30TH, 1688 - III. THE NIGHT OF JUNE 30TH, 1688 - IV. THE MESSENGER FROM ENGLAND - V. THE PRINCESS OF ORANGE - VI. THE LETTERS OF MR. HERBERT - VII. THE SILENT WOOD - VIII. THE POLICY OF THE PRINCE - IX. FRANCE MOVES - X. THE ENGLISH AMBASSADOR - XI. THREE PAWNS - XII. FRANCE MOVES AGAIN - XIII. THE GREAT ENTERPRISE - XIV. STORMS - XV. THE SECOND SAILING - XVI. NEWS FROM ENGLAND - XVII. FAREWELL TO HOLLAND - XVIII. BY THE GRACE OF GOD - - - PART II - THE QUEEN - - I. A DARK DAWNING - II. THE KING AT BAY - III. THE BEST OF LIFE - IV. THE SECRET ANGUISH - V. A WOMAN'S STRENGTH - VI. GOD SAVE THE QUEEN! - VII. THE SHADOW - VIII. FEAR - IX. CHRISTMAS EVE - X. THE QUEEN - XI. THE BITTER PARTING - - - PART III - THE KING - - I. *VITA SINE AMOR MORS EST* - II. THE KING IS NEEDED - III. ATTAINMENT - IV. A MAN'S STRENGTH - V. A LEADER OF NATIONS - VI. THE KING'S AGENT - VII. THE BANK OF ENGLAND - VIII. THE BREAKING FRIENDSHIP - IX. PEACE - X. THE BROKEN FRIENDSHIP - XI. THE KING'S HUMILIATION - XII. APATHY - XIII. FRANCE CHALLENGES - XIV. THE VANGUARD OF THE WORLD - XV. THE EVE OF WAR - XVI. GOD AND THE KING - - - - - PART I - - THE REVOLUTION - - -"Un prince profond dans ses vues; habile a former des ligues et a reunir -les esprits; plus heureux a exciter les guerres qu'a combattre; plus a -craindre encore dans le secret du cabinet, qu'a la tete des armees; un -ennemi que la haine du nom Francais avoit rendu capable d'imaginer de -grandes chose et de les executer; un de ces genies qui semblent etre nes -pour mouvoir a leur gre les peuples et les souverains--un grand -homme...."--MASSILLON, _Oraison Funebre de M. le Dauthin_. - - - - CHAPTER I - - THE AFTERNOON OF JUNE 30th, 1688 - - -"There is no managing an unreasonable people. By Heaven, my lord, they -do not deserve my care." - -The speaker was standing by an open window that looked on to one of the -courts of Whitehall Palace, listening to the unusual and tumultuous -noises that filled the sweet summer air--noises of bells, of shouting, -the crack of fireworks, and the report of joyous mock artillery. - -It was late afternoon, and the small apartment was already left by the -departing daylight and obscured with a dusky shade, but no candles were -lit. - -There was one other person in the room, a gentleman seated opposite the -window at a tall black cabinet decorated with gold lacquer Chinese -figures, that showed vivid even in the twilight. He was watching his -companion with a gentle expression of judgment, and twirling in his slim -fingers a half-blown white rose. - -An over-richness of furniture, hangings, and appointments distinguished -the chamber, which was little more than a cabinet. The flush of rich -hues in the Mortlake tapestries, the gold on the China bureau, the -marble, gilt, and carving about the mantel, two fine and worldly Italian -paintings and crystal sconces, set in silver, combined to give the place -an overpowering air of lavishness; noticeable in one corner was a large -ebony and enamel crucifix. - -The persons of these two gentlemen were in keeping with this air of -wealth, both being dressed in an opulent style, but in themselves they -differed entirely from each other. - -Neither was young, and both would have been conspicuous in any company -for extreme handsomeness, but there was no further likeness. - -He at the window was by many years the older, and past the prime of -life, but the magnificence of his appearance created no impression of -age. - -Unusually tall, finely made and graceful, he carried himself with great -dignity; his countenance, which had been of the purest type of -aristocratic beauty, was now lined and marred--not so much by years, as -by a certain gloom and sourness that had become his permanent -expression; his eyes were large, grey, and commanding, his mouth noble, -but disfigured by a sneer, his complexion blond and pale, his nose -delicately formed and straight; a fair peruke shaded his face and hung -on to his shoulders; he was dressed, splendidly but carelessly, in deep -blue satins, a quantity of heavy Venice lace, and a great sword belt of -embroidered leather. - -The other gentleman was still in the prime of life, being under fifty, -and looking less than his age. - -Slight in build, above the medium height, and justly proportioned, -handsome and refined in feature, dressed with great richness in the -utmost extreme of fashion, he appeared the very type of a noble idle -courtier, but in his long, straight, heavy-lidded eyes, thin sensitive -mouth, and the deeply cut curve of his nostril was an expression of -power and intelligence above that of a mere favourite of courts. - -He wore his own fair hair frizzed and curled out on to his shoulders and -brought very low on to his forehead; under his chin was a knot of black -satin that accentuated the pale delicacy of his complexion; every detail -of his attire showed the same regard to his appearance and the mode. -Had it not been for that unconscious look of mastery in the calm face he -would have seemed no more than a wealthy man of fashion. In his -beautifully formed and white hands he held, as well as the rose, a -handkerchief that he now and then pressed to his lips; in great contrast -to the other man, who appeared self-absorbed and natural, his movements -and his pose were extremely affected. - -A pause of silence wore out; the man at the window beat his fingers -impatiently on the high walnut back of the chair beside him, then -suddenly turned a frowning face towards the darkening room. - -"My lord, what doth this presage?" - -He asked the question heavily and as if he had much confidence and trust -in the man to whom he spoke. - -My lord answered instantly, in a voice as artificial as the fastidious -appointments of his dress. - -"Nothing that Your Majesty's wisdom and the devotion of your servants -cannot control and dispel." - -James Stewart turned his eyes again to the open casement. - -"Do you take it so lightly, my lord?" he asked uneasily. "All London -shouting for these disloyal prelates--the city against me?" - -Lord Sunderland replied, his peculiarly soothing tones lowered to a kind -of caressing gentleness, while he kept his eyes fixed on the King. - -"Not the city, sir. Your Majesty heareth but the mobile--the handful -that will always rejoice at a set given to authority. The people love -Your Majesty and applaud your measures." - -"But I am not popular as my brother was," said the King, but half -satisfied, and with an angry look towards London. - -The Earl was ready with his softly worded reassurances. - -"His late Majesty never put his popularity to the test--I think he could -not have done what you have, sir--is not the true Faith"--here my lord -crossed himself--"predominant in England--hath Your Majesty any -Protestant left in office--have you not an Ambassador at the Vatican, is -not a holy Jesuit father on the Council board, Mass heard publicly in -Whitehall--the papal Nuncio openly received?--and hath not Your Majesty -done these great things in three short years?" - -A glow overspread the King's sombre face; he muttered a few words of a -Latin prayer, and bent his head. - -"I have done a little," he said--"a little----" - -Sunderland lowered his eyes. - -"Seeing this is a Protestant nation, Your Majesty hath done a deal." - -The King was silent a moment, then spoke, gloomy again. - -"But, save yourself, my lord, and Dover and Salisbury, no person of -consequence hath come into the pale of the Church--and how hath my -Declaration of Indulgence been received? Discontent, disobedience from -the clergy, insolence from the Bishops, and now this,--near to -rebellion!" His eyes darkened. "Could you have heard the army on -Hounslow Heath, my lord--they shouted as one man to hear these traitors -had been acquitted." - -He began to stride up and down the room, talking sternly, half to -himself, half to Sunderland, the speech of an angry, obstinate man. - -"But I'll not give way. Who is this Jack Somers who defended them? -Make a note of him--some Whig cur! The Dissenters too, what is the -Anglican Church to them that they must stand by her? Do I not offer -them also freedom of conscience? Do not they also benefit by the repeal -of the Test Act?" - -Sunderland made no remark; he sat with his hand over the lower part of -his face. By the expression of his eyes it might seem that he was -smiling; but the light was fading, and James did not look at his -minister. - -"I'll break the Colleges too. Let them look to it. I'll go on. Am I -not strong enough? They are rebels at Oxford--I'll take no -rebellion--that was my father's fault; he was not strong enough at -first--it must be put down now--now, eh, my Lord Sunderland?" - -He stopped abruptly before the Earl, who rose with an air of humility. - -"It is my poor opinion, oft repeated, that Your Majesty must stop for -nothing, but take these grumblers with a firm hand and crush them." - -This counsel, though not new, seemed to please the King. - -"You have ever given me good advice, my lord." He paused, then added, -"Father Petre is always speaking against you, but I do not listen--no, I -do not listen." - -"It is my misfortune to be unpopular with the Catholics, though I have -done what might be for their service." - -"I do not listen," repeated the King hastily; he seated himself in the -carved chair beside the bureau. "But I must tell you one thing," he -added, after an instant. "M. Barillon thinketh I go too far." - -Sunderland remained standing. - -"He hath told me so," he answered quietly. - -"What doth he mean?" asked James eagerly, and with the air of depending -entirely on the other's interpretation. - -"This," replied the Earl suavely--"that, good friend as His Christian -Majesty is to you, it doth not suit his pride that you, sir, should grow -great without his help--he would rather have Your Majesty the slave than -the master of the people, rather have you dependent on him than a free -ally." - -"I'll not be dictated to," said the King. "My brother was too much the -creature of Louis, but I will not have him meddle in my affairs." - -"M. Barillon doth his duty to his master," answered the Earl. "Your -Majesty need pay no attention to his warnings----" - -"Warnings!" echoed the King, with sullen fire. "I take no warnings from -an Ambassador of France." Then he sat forward and added in a quick, -half-baffled fashion, "Yet there are dangers----" - -"What dangers, sire?" - -"The people are so stubborn----" - -"They complain but they bow, sire; and soon they will not even -complain." - -"Then M. Barillon mentioned----" The King paused abruptly. - -"What, sire?" - -"My nephew, William." - -As he spoke James glanced quickly at Sunderland, who returned the gaze -calmly and mildly. - -"My nephew, William--what is he plotting?" - -"Plotting, Your Majesty?" - -"He hath never been friendly to me," broke out the King fiercely. "Why -did he refuse his consent to the Indulgence?--he who hath always stood -for toleration?" - -"As the head of the Protestant interest in Europe he could do no less, -sire." - -"He hath suborned my daughter," continued the King, in the same tone. -"Seduced her from her duty--but now"--he crossed himself--"God be -thanked, I have an heir. I do not need to so consider these -Calvinists"--he gave the word an accent of bitter dislike--"yet I doubt -he meaneth mischief----" - -"I do not think so, sire. His hands are so full in keeping his own -country afloat he can scarce have the time to meddle----" - -The King interrupted. - -"He _doth_ meddle--his design is to drag me into a war with France--I -doubt he hath more intrigues afoot in England than we wot of, my lord. -Did M. de Zuylestein come wholly to congratulate us on the birth of the -Prince? He is over often closeted with the Whig lords--and so was -Dyckfelt--a knowing man." - -Sunderland answered frankly. - -"His Highness must have an interest in the kingdom of which his wife was -till so lately the heiress, and I doubt not that he would try to foster -discontents among the opposition, since he can hardly like the present -policy of Your Majesty, having all his life been under the endeavour of -persuading England to join his coalition against France--but he hath not -the power (nor, I think, the will) to disturb Your Majesty." - -James smiled reflectively. - -"I believe he hath his hands full," he admitted. "He is not so steady -in the states." His smile deepened as he thought on the critical -situation of his son-in-law, then vexation conquered, and he added -sharply, "M. Barillon said he but waited a chance to openly -interfere--he would not send the English regiments back, which looked -ill, and he is very friendly with Mr. Sidney----" - -The King paused. - -"Mr. Sidney is your uncle, my lord," he added, after a little, "and a -close friend of the Prince of Orange--I was warned of that." - -"By M. de Barillon?" asked Sunderland gently. - -"Yes, my lord. But I took no heed of it--yet is it true that my Lady -Sunderland wrote often to Mr. Sidney when he was at The Hague, and that -you were privy to it?" - -"There was some little exchange of gallantries, sire, no more. My lady -is close friends with Mr. Sidney, and would commission him for horses, -plants, candles, and such things as can be bought with advantage at The -Hague." - -"And did she write to the Lady Mary?" - -Sunderland smiled. - -"She had that honour once--the subject was a recipe for treacle water." - -"Well, well," said the King, in a relieved tone of half apology, "I am -so hedged about I begin to distrust my best servants. I must be short -with M. Barillon; he maketh too much of my friendship with His Majesty." - -"That is the jealousy of France, sire, that ever desireth a hand in your -affairs." - -James answered testily. - -"Let them take care. M. Barillon said my envoys abroad had sent me -warning of what my nephew designed--that is not true, my lord?" - -"I have received no such letters, sire, and Your Majesty's foreign -correspondence toucheth no hands but mine." - -The King rose and struck the bell on the black lacquer cabinet; his -exceedingly ill-humour was beginning, as always, to be softened by the -influence of Lord Sunderland, who had more command over him than even -the Jesuit, Father Petre, who was commonly supposed to be his most -intimate counsellor. - -When the summons was answered the King called for candles, and went over -to the window again. - -The dusk was stained with the glow of a hundred bonfires, lit by good -Protestants in honour of the acquittal of the seven bishops charged with -treason for offering His Majesty a petition against the reading of the -Declaration of Indulgence from the pulpits of the Anglican churches; the -verdict and the demonstration were alike hateful to the King, and he -could scarce restrain his furious chagrin as he saw the triumphant -rockets leap into the deep azure sky. - -He thought bitterly of the murmuring army on Hounslow Heath; had they -been steadfastly loyal he would hardly have restrained from setting them -on to the defiant capital which they had been gathered together to -overawe. - -The candles were brought, and lit the rich little chamber with a ruddy -light that showed the glitter of glass and gilt, lacquer and silver, the -moody face of the King, and the calm countenance of his minister. - -"My nephew would never dare," muttered His Majesty at last, "nor would -Mary be so forgetful of her duty----" He turned into the room again. -"I think you are right, my lord; he hath too much to do at home. But I -am glad I did recall Mr. Sidney--a Republican at heart--who is like his -brother." - -"Of what designs doth Your Majesty suspect the Prince?" asked Sunderland -quietly. - -The King answered hastily. - -"Nothing--nothing." - -"Doth M. de Barillon," asked the Earl, "think His Highness might do what -Monmouth did?" - -At this mention of that other unhappy nephew of his who had paid for his -brief rebellion on Tower Hill, the King's face cleared of its look of -doubt. - -"If he tried," he answered sombrely, "he would meet with the same -reception--by Heaven, he would! No gentleman joined Monmouth, none -would join the Prince." - -"'Tis certain," said Sunderland. "But what causeth Your Majesty to -imagine His Highness would attempt so wild a design as an armed descent -on England?" - -"He buildeth a great navy," remarked James. - -"To protect the States against France. Reason showeth that the -suggestion of His Highness' conduct that M. de Barillon hath made is -folly. The Prince is the servant of the States; even if he wished, he -could not use their forces to further his private ends, and is not the -Princess daughter to Your Majesty, and would she help in an act of -rebellion against you?" - -"No," replied the King, "no--I do not think it. If the Dutch do choose -to build a few ships am I to be stopped? My Lord Halifax," he added, -with eagerness, "advised the giving back of the city charters and the -reinstatement of the Fellows of Magdalen--but I will not--I'll break -'em, all the disloyal lot of 'em." - -A slight smile curved my lord's fine lips. - -"Halifax is ever for timorous counsels." - -"A moderate man!" cried James. "I dislike your moderate men--they've -damned many a cause and never made one. I'll have none of their sober -politics." - -"The best Your Majesty can do," said Sunderland, "is to gain the -Dissenters, call a packed parliament of them and the Catholics in the -autumn, pass the repeal of the Test Act, treat French interference -firmly, strengthen the army, and bring the Irish to overawe London. -There will be no murmurs against your authority this time a year hence." - -James gave my lord a pleased glance. - -"Your views suit with mine," he replied. "I'll officer the army with -Catholics--and look to those two judges who favoured these bishops. We -will remove them from the bench." - -He was still alternating between ill-humour at the open display of -feeling on the occasion of the public cross he had received in the -matter of the bishops and the satisfaction my lord's wholly congenial -counsel gave his obstinate self-confidence. A certain faith in himself -and in the office he held, a still greater trust in the religion to -which he was so blindly devoted, a tyrannical belief in firm measures -and in the innate loyalty of church and people made this son of Charles -I, sitting in the very palace from which his father had stepped on to -the scaffold at the command of a plain gentleman from Hampshire, revolve -schemes for the subjugation of England more daring than Plantagenet, -Tudor, and Stewart had ventured on yet; he desired openly and violently -to put England into the somewhat reluctant hands of the Pope, and beside -this desire every other consideration was as nothing to His Majesty. - -"Let 'em shout," he said. "I can afford it." And he thought of his -young heir, whose birth secured the Romish succession in England; an -event that took the sting even from the acquittal of the stubborn -bishops. - -"Your Majesty is indeed a great and happy Prince," remarked my lord, -with that softness that gave his compliments the value of sincere -meaning. - -The King went up to him, smiled at him in his heavy way, and touched him -affectionately on the shoulder. - -"Well, well," he answered, "you give good advice, and I thank you, my -lord." - -He fell into silence again, and the Earl took graceful leave, left the -cabinet gently, and gently closed the door. - -When outside in the corridor he paused like one considering, then went -lightly down the wide stairs. - -In the gallery to which he came at the end of the first flight was a -group of splendid gentlemen talking together; my lord would have passed -them, but one came forward and stopped him; he raised his eyes; it was -M. Barillon. - -"You have come from His Majesty?" - -"Yes, sir," answered the Earl. - -"I do hope you did impress on him the need for a great caution," said M. -Barillon quickly, and in a lowered voice, "The temper of the people hath -been very clearly shown to-day." - -"I did my utmost," said my lord ardently. "Advised him to make -concessions, warned him that the Prince was dangerous, but his obstinate -temper would have none of it----" - - M. Barillon frowned. - -"I hope you were earnest with him, my lord; there is no man hath your -influence----" - -My lord's long eyes looked steadily into the Frenchman's face. - -"Sir," he said, "you must be aware that I have every reason to urge His -Majesty caution, since there is none as deep in his most disliked -measures than myself, and if the Whigs were to get the upper hand"--he -shrugged gracefully--"you know that there would be no mercy for me." - -The French Ambassador answered hastily-- - -"Not for an instant do I doubt your lordship. Faith, I know His -Christian Majesty hath no such friend as yourself in England--but I -would impress on you the danger--things reach a crisis, my lord." - -He bowed and returned to his companions, while the Earl passed through -the galleries of Whitehall, filled with courtiers, newsmongers, place -seekers, and politicians, and came out into the courtyard where his -chair waited. - -While his servant was fetching the sedan my lord put on his laced hat -and lingered on the step. - -A tall soldier was keeping the guard; my lord regarded him, smiled, and -spoke. - -"Fellow, who is your master?" - -The man flushed, saluted, and stared awkwardly. - -"Come," smiled the Earl whimsically. "Whom do you serve?" - -The startled soldier answered stupidly-- - -"God and the King, your honour." - -"Ah, very well," answered the Earl slowly; he descended the steps and -took a pinch of snuff. "So do we all--it is merely a question of which -God and which King." - - - - - CHAPTER II - - THE EVENING OF JUNE 30th, 1688 - - -Before entering his sedan, Lord Sunderland gently bade the chairman -carry him round the back ways; that strange quantity, the People, that -every statesman must use, fear, and obey, was abroad, roused and -dangerous to-night, and my lord's diplomacy moved delicately among high -places but never came into the street to handle the crowd; he could -lead, control, cajole kings and courtiers, deal with continents on -paper, but he was powerless before the people, who hated him, and whom -he did not trouble to understand; he was aristocrat of aristocrat. - -He was now the most powerful man in the three kingdoms, and, next to -Lord Jefferies, the most detested; he was the only considerable noble -(the other converts, Dover and Salisbury, being mean men) who had -sacrificed his religion to the bigotry of the King; many courtiers to -whom all faiths were alike had rejected open apostasy, but my lord had -calmly turned renegade and calmly accepted the scorn and comment cast -upon his action; but he did not care to risk recognition by the People -bent on celebrating a Protestant triumph. - -A little before he had gone down to Westminster Hall to give that -technical evidence against the bishops, without which they could not -have been tried (for he was the only man who had seen Sancroft pass in -to the King with the petition, and therefore the only man who could -prove "publication in the county of Middlesex"), and it had taken some -courage to face the storm that had greeted the King's witness. - -My lord did not wish for another such reception, and as he proceeded -down the quiet dark streets he looked continuously from the window of -his chair in anticipation of some noisy band of Londoners who would -challenge his appearance. - -And that pale gentleman who peered out on to the bonfire-lit night had -soon been dragged from the shadow of the satin-lined sedan and flung -down into the gutter and trampled on and murdered, as was Archbishop -Sharp by the Covenanters, had he been seen and recognized by some of the -bands of youths and men who marched the streets with straw Popes and -cardboard devils to cast to the flames. - -My lord remarked that in every window, even of the poorest houses, seven -candles burned, the tallest in the centre for the Archbishop, the other -six for his colleagues; my lord remarked the rockets that leapt above -the houses and broke in stars against the deep blue; my lord heard, even -as he passed through the quietest alleys, the continuous murmur of the -People rejoicing, as one may in a backwater hear the muffled but -unsubdued voice of the sea. - -When he reached his own great mansion and stepped from the chair, he saw -that his house also was illuminated, as was every window in the great -square. - -He went upstairs to a little room at the back, panelled in walnut and -finely furnished, where a lady sat alone. - -She was of the same type as my lord--blonde, graceful, worn, and -beautiful--younger than he, but looking no less. - -She was writing letters at a side table, and when he entered rose up -instantly, with a little sigh of relief. - -"'Tis so wild abroad to-night," she said. - -The Earl laid down on the mantelshelf the overblown white rose he had -brought from Whitehall, and looked at his wife. - -"I see we also rejoice that the bishops are acquitted," he remarked. - -"The candles, you mean? It had to be--all the windows had been broken -else. They needed to call the soldiers out to protect the Chapel in -Sardinia Street." - -He seated himself at the centre table and pulled from his pocket several -opened letters that he scattered before him; his wife came and stood -opposite, and they looked at each other intently across the candles. - -"What doth it mean?" she asked. - -"That the King walketh blindly on to ruin," he answered concisely, with -a wicked flashing glance over the correspondence before him. - -"The People will not take much more?" - -"No." - -"Well," said Lady Sunderland restlessly, "we are safe enough." - -He was turning over the papers, and now lowered his eyes to them. - -"Some of your letters to my Uncle Sidney have been opened," he remarked. -"This is M. Barillon his work--the King taxed me to-day with being privy -to the intrigue." - -"I have thought lately that we were suspected," she answered quickly. -"Is this--serious?" - -"No; I can do anything with the King, and he is bigot, blind, and -credulous to a monstrous degree." - -"Even after to-day!" exclaimed my lady. - -"He believeth the nation will never turn against him," said the Earl -quietly. "He thinketh himself secure in his heir--and in the Tories." - -"Not half the people will allow the child is the Queen's, though," she -answered. "Even the Princess Anne maketh a jest of it with her women, -and saith His Highness was smuggled into Whitehall in a warming-pan by a -Jesuit father----" - -"So you have also heard that news?" - -"Who could help it? 'Tis common talk that 'tis but a device of the King -to close the succession to the Princess Mary. And though you and I, my -lord, know differently, this tale is as good as another to lead the -mobile." - -The Earl was slowly burning the letters before him by holding them in -the flame of the wax-light of a taper-holder, and when they were curled -away casting them on the floor and putting his red heel on them. - -"What are these?" asked the Countess, watching him. - -"Part of His Majesty's foreign correspondence, my dear, warning him to -have an eye to His Highness the Stadtholder." - -She laughed, half nervously. - -"It seemeth as if you cut away the ladder on which you stood," she said. -"If the King should suspect too soon--or the Prince fail you----" - -"I take the risks," said Sunderland. "I have been taking risks all my -life." - -"But never one so large as this, my lord." - -He had burnt the last letter and extinguished the taper; he raised his -face, and for all his fine dressing and careful curls he looked haggard -and anxious; the gravity of his expression overcame the impression of -foppery in his appearance; it was a serious man, and a man with -everything at stake on a doubtful issue, who held out his hand to his -wife. - -She put her fingers into his palm and stood leaning against the tall -back of his chair, looking down on him with those languishing eyes that -had been so praised at the court of the late King, now a little marred -and worn, but still brightly tender, and to my lord as lovely as when -Lely had painted her beautiful among the beautiful. - -"You must help me," he said, his court drawl gone, his voice sincere. - -"Robert," smiled my lady, "I have been helping you ever since I met -you." - -"'Tis admitted," he answered; "but, sweetheart, you must help me again." - -She touched lightly his thin, powdered cheek with her free hand; her -smile was lovely in its tenderness. - -"What is your difficulty?" - -Subtle, intricate and oblique as his politics always were, crafty and -cunning as were his character and his actions, with this one person whom -he trusted Sunderland was succinct and direct. - -"The difficulty is the Princess Mary," he answered. - -"Explain," she smiled. - -He raised his hand and let it fall. - -"You understand already. Saying this child, this Prince of Wales, will -never reign--the Princess is the heiress, and not her husband, and after -her is the Princess Anne. Now it is not my design to put a woman on the -throne, nor the design of England--we want the Prince, and he is third -in succession----" - -"But he can act for his wife----" - -"His wife--there is the point. Will she, when she understandeth clearly -what is afoot, support her husband, her father, or herself?" - -The Countess was silent a little, then said-- - -"She hath no reason to love her father; he hath never sent her as much -as a present since she went to The Hague, nor shown any manner of love -for her." - -"Yet he counteth on her loyalty as a positive thing--and hath she any -cause to love her husband either?" - -Lady Sunderland's smile deepened. - -"Ladies will love their husbands whether they have cause or no." - -The Earl looked gently cynical. - -"She was a child when she was married, and the match was known to be -hateful to her; she is still very young, and a Stewart. Do you not think -she is like to be ambitious?" - -"How can I tell? Doth it make so much difference?" - -He answered earnestly-- - -"A great difference. If there is a schism between her and the Prince -his hands are hopelessly weakened, for there would be a larger party for -her pretensions than for his----" - -"What do you want me to do, dear heart?" - -"I want a woman to manage a woman," smiled the Earl. "The Princess is -seldom in touch with diplomats, and when she is--either by design or -simplicity--she is very reserved." - -"She is no confidante of mine," answered the Countess. "I only remember -her as a lively child who wept two days to leave England, and that was -ten years ago." - -"Still," urged my lord, "you can find some engine to do me this great -service--to discover the mind of the Princess." - -Lady Sunderland paused thoughtfully. - -"Do you remember Basilea Gage?" she asked at length. - -"One of the maids of honour to Her Majesty when she was Duchess?" - -"Yes; since married to a Frenchman who died, and now in Amsterdam--she -and the Princess Royal were children together--I knew her too. Should I -set her on this business?" - -"Would she be apt and willing?" - -"She is idle, clever, and serious--but, my dear lord, a Romanist." - -The Earl laughed at his wife, who laughed back. - -"Very well," he said. "I think she will be a proper person for this -matter." - -He put the long tips of his fingers together and reflected; he loved, of -all things, oblique and crooked methods of working his difficult and -secret intrigues. - -When he spoke it was with clearness and decision. - -"Tell this lady (what she must know already) that the King's measures in -England have forced many malcontents to look abroad to the Princess -Royal, the next heir, and her husband to deliver them from an odious -rule; say that His Majesty, however, is confident that his daughter -would never forget her obedience, and that, if it came to a crisis -between her father and her husband, she would hinder the latter from any -design on England and refuse her sanction to any attempt on his part to -disturb His Majesty--say this requireth confirmation, and that for the -ease and peace of the government (alarmed by the late refusal of Her -Highness to concur in the Declaration of Indulgence) and the reassurance -of the mind of the King, it would be well that we should have private -knowledge of the disposition of Her Highness, which, you must say, you -trust will be for the advantage of the King and his just measures." - -The Countess listened attentively; she was seated now close to her -husband, a pretty-looking figure in white and lavender, half concealed -in the purple satin cushions of the large chair. - -"I will write by the next packet," she answered simply. - -"So," smiled the Earl, "we will use the zeal of a Romanist to discover -the knowledge we need for Protestant ends----" - -As he spoke they were interrupted by a servant in the gorgeous liveries -that bore witness, like everything else in the noble mansion, both to my -lord's extravagance and my lady's good management. - -"Mr. Sidney was below--would his Lordship see him?" - -"Go you down to him," said the Earl, looking at his wife. "You can make -my excuses." - -He dismissed the servant; my lady rose. - -"What am I to say?" she asked, like one waiting for a lesson to be -imparted. - -He patted the slim white hand that rested on the polished table near -his. - -"Find out all you can, Anne, but be cautious--speak of our great respect -for His Highness, but make no definite promises--discover how deep they -go in their commerce with him." - -Again they exchanged that look of perfect understanding that was more -eloquent of the feeling between them than endearments or soft speeches, -and the Countess went down to the lavish withdrawing-room, as fine as -the chambers in Whitehall, where Mr. Sidney, uncle of my lord (but no -older) waited. - -They met as long friends, and with that air of gracious compliment and -pleasure in each other's company which the fact of one being a beautiful -woman and the other a man of famous gallantry had always given to their -intercourse; if every jot of my lady's being had not been absorbed in -her husband she might have been in love with Mr. Sidney, and if Mr. -Sidney had not followed a fresh face every day of the year he might have -found leisure to fall in love with my lady; as it was, he was very -constant to her friendship, but had not, for that, forgotten the lovely -creature she was, and she knew it and was pleased; in their hearts each -laughed a little at the other and the situation; but my lady had the -more cause to laugh, because while Mr. Sidney always dealt ingenuously -with her, she was all the while using him to further her husband's -policies, and there was not a pleasant word she gave him that was not -paid for in information that she turned to good account. - -To-day she found him less the composed gallant than usual; he seemed -roused, disturbed, excited. - -"The town to-day!" he exclaimed, after their first greetings. "Here is -the temper of the people plainly declared at last!" - -The Countess seated herself with her back to the candles on the gilt -side-table and her face towards Mr. Sidney; he took his place on the -wand-bottomed stool by the empty hearth, where the great brass dogs -stood glimmering. - -The windows were open, admitting the pleasant, intangible sense of -summer and the distant changing shouts and clamour of the crowd. - -With a kindly smile Lady Sunderland surveyed Henry Sidney, who without -her advantage of the softening shadows showed a countenance finely lined -under the thick powder he wore; man of fashion, of pleasure, attractive, -mediocre in talents, supreme in manners and tact, owning no deep -feelings save hatred to the King, whose intrigues had brought his -brother to the block in the last reign, and a certain private loyalty to -the laws and faith of England, Henry Sidney betrayed his character in -every turn of his handsome face and figure. A man good-humoured, -sweet-tempered but lazy, yet sometimes, as now, to be roused to the -energy and daring of better men. In person he was noticeable among a -court remarkable for handsome men; he had been in youth the most famous -beau of his time, and still in middle age maintained that reputation. - -His political achievements had not been distinguished. Sent as envoy to -the States, he had so managed to ingratiate himself with the Prince of -Orange as, in spite of the opposition of the English court, to be -appointed commander of the English Regiment in the Dutch service, and -the mouthpiece of His Highness to the English Whigs. - -James, who had always disliked him, had recalled him from The Hague -despite the protests of the Stadtholder, and he had found himself so out -of favour with Whitehall as to deem it wiser to travel in Italy for a -year, though he had never relaxed his correspondence either with the -Prince or the great Protestant nobles who had been thrown into the -opposition by the imprudent actions of the King. - -He was in London now at some risk, as Lady Sunderland knew, and she -waited rather curiously to hear what urgency had brought him back to the -centre of intrigue. - -His acceptance of her graceful excuses for the Earl was as formal as her -offering of them; so long ago had it been understood that she was always -the intermediary between her astute lord and the powerful Whig -opposition of which Mr. Sidney was secretly so active a member. - -"You and your friends will be glad of this," she said. - -He looked at her a hesitating half second, then replied with an unusual -sincerity in the tones generally so smooth and expressionless. - -"Every Catholic who showeth his face is insulted, and a beadle hath been -killed for endeavouring to defend a Romist chapel--the people are up at -last." - -"I know," she answered calmly. "I feared that my lord would not be safe -returning from Whitehall." - -"If they had seen him, by Heaven, he would not have been!" said Mr. -Sidney. He spoke as if he understood the people's point of view. Lax -and careless as he was himself, Sunderland's open and shameless apostasy -roused in his mind some faint shadow of the universal hatred and scorn -that all England poured on the renegade. - -My lady read him perfectly; she smiled. - -"How are you going to use this temper in the people?" she asked. "Is it -to die out with the flames that consume the straw Popes, or is it to -swell to something that may change the face of Europe?" - -Mr. Sidney rose as if his restless mood could not endure his body to sit -still. - -"It may change the dynasty of England," he said. - -My lady kept her great eyes fixed on him. - -"You think so?" she responded softly. - -His blonde face was strengthened into a look of resolve and triumph. - -"The King hath gone too far." He spoke in an abrupt manner new to him. -"No bribed electorate or packed parliament could force these -measures--as we have seen to-day." There was, as he continued, an -expression in his eyes that reminded the Countess of his brother -Algernon, republican and patriot. "Is it not strange that he hath -forgotten his father so soon, and his own early exile?" he said. - -"His over-confidence playeth into your hands," she answered. - -He gave a soft laugh, approached her, and said, in his old caressing -tones-- - -"Frankly, my lady--how far will the Earl go?" - -"With whom?" she smiled. - -"With us--the Prince of Orange and the Whigs, ay--and the honest Tories -too." - -She played with the tassels of the stiff cushion behind her. - -"My lord hath the greatest affection and duty for His Highness, the -greatest admiration for him, the greatest hopes in him----" - -"Come, Madam," he responded, "we are old friends--I want to know my lord -his real mind." - -"I have told it you," she said, lifting candid eyes, "as far as even I -know it----" - -"You must know that His Highness hath in his desk letters from almost -every lord in England, assuring him of admiration and respect--what was -M. Dyckfelt over here for--and M. Zuylestein?--we want to know what the -Earl will _do_." - -"What are the others--_doing_?" asked the Countess lightly. - -He saw the snare, and laughed. - -"My hand is always for you to read, but there are others seated at this -game, and I may not disclose the cards." - -My lady lent forward. - -"You cannot," she said, in the same almost flippant tone, "expect my -lord to declare himself openly a Whig?" - -"He might, though, declare himself secretly our friend." - -"Perhaps," she admitted, then was silent. - -Intimate as he was with the Countess, Mr. Sidney was not close with her -lord, and felt more than a little puzzled by that statesman's attitude. -Sunderland, he knew, was in receipt of a pension, probably a handsome -pension, from France; he was loathed by the Whigs and caressed by the -King; as Lord President and First Secretary he held the highest position -in the Kingdom; the emoluments of his offices, with what he made by -selling places, titles, pardons, and dignities, were known to be -enormous; his conversion to the Church of Rome had given him almost -unlimited influence over James; and his great experience, real talents, -and insinuating manners made him as secure in his honours as any man -could hope to be; yet through his wife he had dallied with the Whigs, -written, as Sidney knew, to the Prince of Orange, and held out very -distinct hopes that he would, at a crisis, help the Protestants. - -Certainly he had not gone far, and it was important, almost vital, to -the opposition that he should go farther, for he had it in his power to -render services which no other man could; he only had the ear of James, -the control of the foreign correspondence, the entire confidence of M. -Barillon, and he alone was fitted to mislead the King and the Ambassador -as to the schemes of their enemies, as he alone would be able to open -their eyes to the full extent of the ramifications of the Protestant -plots. - -It was the Countess who broke the silence, and her words were what she -might have chosen could she have read Mr. Sidney's thoughts. - -"My lord, who is the greatest man in the kingdom, hath more to stake and -lose than you Whigs who are already in disgrace with His Majesty." - -"I know that very well," he answered; "but if the government fell, -remember there are some who would fall with it beyond the hope of ever -climbing again. One is my Lord Jefferies, another my Lord Sunderland." - -She looked at him calmly. - -"They are both well hated by the people," she said. "I do admit it." -She leant forward in her chair. "Do you think it would be worth while -for my lord to stake the great post he holdeth for the chance of safety -if..." - -She hesitated, and he supplied the words. - ---"if there was a revolution," he said. - -"Do you talk of revolutions!" she exclaimed. - -His fair face flushed. - -"Listen," he answered briefly. - -My lady turned her delicate head towards the window. Beyond her brocade -curtains lay the dark shape of London, overhung with a glow of red that -stained the summer sky. She sat silent. Mr. Sidney stood close to her, -and she could hear his quick breathing; he, as she, was listening to the -bells, the shouting, the crack of fireworks, now louder, now fainter, -but a continuous volume of sound. - -"The people----" said Mr. Sidney. - -"Do they make revolutions?" she asked. - -"If there is a man to guide them they do----" - -"Well?" - -"Before, there was Cromwell." - -"And now----" - -"Now there is William of Orange." - -My lady rose. - -"His Highness," she said quietly but firmly, "may be assured that he -hath a friend, a secret friend in my lord." - -Mr. Sidney looked anxiously into her eyes. - -"May I rely on that?" - -She smiled rather sadly. - -"You, at least, can trust me." - -Mr. Sidney bowed over her slender hand. - -"You are a sweet friend and a clever woman, but----" - -Lady Sunderland interrupted him. - -"I am sincere to-night. We see our dangers. You shall hear from me at -The Hague." - - - - - CHAPTER III - - THE NIGHT OF JUNE 30th, 1688 - - -Some hours after his parting with Lady Sunderland, Mr. Sidney left a -modest house in Greg Street, Soho Fields, in company with a common -tarpaulin, whose rough clothes were in strong contrast to the rich -appointments of the notable beau he accompanied. - -It was a fine night, but cloudy. The two men proceeded in silence -towards Gerrard Street, the sailor with his hands in his pockets and Mr. -Sidney swinging his cane. - -Every house they passed had the seven candles in the windows, and the -sound of bells and shouting was as persistent as it had been in the -drawing-room of Sunderland House; the street was empty save for a few -wandering link-boys and beggars. - -As they, walking rapidly and steadily, approached St. -Martin-in-the-Fields, the feeble rays of the oil-lamps over every tenth -door, that only served to illuminate the signs and cast great shadows -from the passers-by, were absorbed in a red glare that touched the brick -fronts of the precise houses with a deep glow. - -"A bonfire," remarked Mr. Sidney. - -The tarpaulin answered in the accents of a gentleman. - -"A pope-burning--had we not best take another way?" - -As Mr. Sidney hesitated the other added, with a laugh-- - -"After all, is it not a good omen? Let us see this martyrdom," and he -pressed into the confines of the crowd gathered round an enormous -bonfire, which blazed in front of the church steps. - -Mr. Sidney followed, and the two found themselves absorbed into the -multitude of apprentices, shopkeepers, clerks, and citizens of all -descriptions, who were engaged in celebrating the acquittal of the -bishops by burning His Holiness in effigy. - -For awhile they were unnoticed in the general excitement, then Mr. -Sidney's appearance was remarked. His plumed hat, his sword, his -curling peruke, and the rich velvet mantle that concealed his person -instantly told them that he was not of their class. Suspicion was -roused that he was a spy of the Court, and they began to rudely jostle -him; but the sailor, who kept closely beside him, laughed -good-humouredly, and cried-- - -"Gently, my friends. We are good Protestants come to see the burning of -the Devil and the Pope." - -"Sure," came a quick answer, "if you were popish dogs you would scarce -be here to-night!" - -Sidney smiled at the eager young man who spoke. - -"No," he said. "Long live the King, the Church, and the Laws--eh, my -friend?" - -"I do not know so much about the first--but all my heart the second and -third!" - -The sailor looked sharply at the speaker, who was a youth of two- or -three-and-twenty, very plainly dressed, almost shabby, with a keen, dark -face, intelligent, ardent eyes, and a quantity of untidy curly hair. He -seemed to be a student or clerk, and was obviously the leading spirit of -a band of youths of his own age, who were making most of the noise and -clamour. - -He in his turn closely scrutinized the sailor, then said, in abrupt -tones of friendliness-- - -"I'll get you through. You and the gentleman get behind me, and I'll -make 'em give away----" - -With the quick energy that seemed his characteristic he shouldered his -way through the press and forced a passage for Mr. Sidney and the -sailor, bringing them to the steps of the church, where they had a good -view over the crowd, and stood directly behind the bonfire. - -He paused, a little breathless with fighting through the throng, and -with blows given and taken, and asked Mr. Sidney, whose splendour seemed -to somewhat overawe him, if he had ever seen a pope-burning before. - -"Never," smiled that gentleman; but the sailor added instantly-- - -"I have, many a time; 'tis the finest fun in the world." - -The young man looked at him with the sharp suspicious curiosity of -youth. He was quick to notice the difference between speech and dress, -and his instant's glance further confused him. The strong light of the -bonfire showed a resolute-looking man, dressed in the coarse worn -clothes of a common sailor, but unmistakeably a gentleman. He seemed -amused and interested. A pleasant smile lit his face, and his grey eyes -were bright and self-contained. - -"You were like to be clapt up if the watch caught you at this," he said. - -The youth was gloriously scornful. - -"The watch! Do you think we would disperse for a regiment?" - -"Look out for the regiments then," smiled the sailor. "There are -sixteen thousand men on Hounslow Heath." - -"How many of 'em would take arms against the city?" was the instant -retort. "They too are good Protestants." - -"I perceive that you are something of a Politic," said Mr. Sidney; and -then all further remark was cut short by the arrival of the procession -carrying the Pope, at sight of which an almost solemn hush fell on the -crowd, who stopped supplying the bonfire with squibs, oil, and tar, and -drew back in close ranks before the steps of the church. - -The Pope was a huge figure of straw with a wax face, carried in a chair -on the shoulders of four men. He was clothed in an expensive scarlet -silk robe, and wore on his head a tiara of painted pasteboard, decorated -with sparkling glass; his scornful and saturnine face, which, if meant -for the reigning pontiff, was a cruel libel on the most honourable and -simple of men, was turned a little to one side in the action of -listening to a huge black-horned Devil who was busily whispering in his -ear, one stiff hand was raised with two fingers lifted in blessing, and -the other (both formed of white gloves stuffed, with glass beads on the -backs) hung limply by his side. - -The young man who had befriended Mr. Sidney and his friend gave some -kind of a whistling signal, upon which the greater number of the crowd -broke into verses of a doggerel song against popery and the bishops. As -each sang different words and tune the result was a mere lusty din, in -which not a syllable was distinguishable; nevertheless the hundred -voices of hate, derision, scorn, and triumph addressing the dumb -grotesque image of a loathed religion had an impressive significance and -contained a deep warning. - -For these were not isolated nor feeble voices--the will and purpose of a -great nation echoed in them--nor were they the voices of mere -fanaticism, but the cries of protest raised by a jealous people whose -liberties had been struck at and broken. - -In the faces the leaping flames brought into relief against the -surrounding darkness might be traced that fearless English spirit that -would not for long own a master; in the coarse jeers, hoots, and hisses -might be discerned that devotion to the reformed faith that had united -Anglican and Dissenter (despite the high bid the King had made for the -favour of the latter), in stern and unyielding opposition to the -Romanist worship that was in vain being forced on them. - -Mr. Sidney wondered if James could see these faces and hear these voices -it would give him pause; if even his hard bigotry would not learn -something of the temper of a strong people roused. It seemed incredible -that if the King could see these people now that he could forget -Cromwell and his own exiled youth. - -The dummy Pope was lowered from his seat of mock triumph and pitched -forward into the centre of the flames, the Devil clinging to him, at -which a savage roar rose as if real flesh and blood had been sacrificed -to appease fierce passions. - -Mr. Sidney a little drew back against the flame-flushed pillars behind -him. As the spreading fire scorched his face so the temper of the crowd -put a kind of awe into his heart. - -"Who is to manage these?" he murmured. He was no statesman. Then he -pulled his companion by the sleeve. "There was a man killed to-day--let -us get on----" - -But the sailor, with his arms folded across his breast, was watching the -bonfire, in the heart of which the Pope appeared to be writhing as he -shrivelled, while his wax face ran into one great tear, his tiara shrunk -and disappeared, and the Devil, a black patch in the redness, emitted -horrid fumes of sulphur as he was consumed. - -"'Tis a pretty show," he said briefly. - -"But one not pleasing to the King's Majesty, do you think?" flashed the -dark youth who had been their guide. - -"No," smiled the other. "I think it would grieve His Majesty even more -than the acquittal of the holy fathers----" - -The young man laughed; he seemed very excited. - -"See you, sir, if you wait awhile you will see a warming-pan burnt--with -the pretended Prince of Wales, that Popish brat, within!" - -Mr. Sidney interrupted. - -"We have a boat to catch at Gravesend, if you could make a passage for -us, my friend----" - -More than a little flattered at being thus addressed by so fine a -gentleman, the youth, by various shouted commands to his companions, -elbowings and blows administered in a lively manner, steered Mr. Sidney -and the sailor out of the crowd with the same dexterity that he had -guided them to the church steps. - -On the confines of the press, Mr. Sidney, rather breathless, shook out -his mantle and adjusted his hat. The glow from the bonfire cast their -shadows long and leaping over the grass. In the distance towards the -archery fields and the Mall were other crowds and processions to be seen -passing in and out of the trees, and another bonfire was burning in -front of the mansion of the Protestant Northumberlands. The air was -full of the harsh colour of artificial light, the smell of powder and -tar, of burning rag and oil, belching smoke and the crack of squib, -rocket and bomb, mingled with noisy shouting of anti-Popish songs and -hoarse cheers for the bishops, the Dissenters, and the Protestant -succession. - -"This must be pleasant music at Whitehall," remarked the sailor, with -good-humoured indifference. He was standing now full in the light of -the lantern at the corner of the church, and the young man, who had been -looking at him with great eagerness, exclaimed softly-- - -"It is Admiral Herbert!" - -He turned instantly. - -"My name is not for public hearing to-night," he said quickly. "And, God -of Heaven, boy, how did you know me?" - -The young man flushed. - -"You used to come to the 'Rose' in Charing Cross--near here, you -remember? My uncle kept it----" - -Arthur Herbert smiled. - -"Yes--I remember; and who are you?" - -"A scholar at St. John's now," answered the youth, in the same eager, -excited way; "that is thanks to my Lord Dorset----" - -"Why, I recall," said Mr. Sidney; "'tis my lord's last genius, sure--he -who wrote a satire against the court last year with one Charley -Montague--a parody on Mr. Dryden's bombast, which sorely vexed him----" - -"The same, sir," answered the young man, flushing deeper with pleasure. -"Lord Dorset is the Maecenas of the age, as I have truly found----" - -"Well," said the Admiral, "you seem a likely spark--stick to your -Pope-burning and you'll find yourself at Court yet--that is good advice. -What is your name? I don't read poetry." - -"I don't write it, sir," retorted the other, with an engaging touch of -impudence. "Only verses--a little satire and a little truth." - -Arthur Herbert laughed. - -"Well, what is your name?" - -"Prior, sir--Matthew Prior." - -"Good evening, Mr. Prior, and remember that you did not see me -to-night--silence, mind, even to your friends the Whigs." - -"I know enough for that, sir," responded the student simply. He took off -a battered hat with a courtly air of respect, and discreetly turned away -and slipped back into the crowd. - -The two gentlemen continued their way. - -"We run some risk, you observe," smiled Mr. Sidney. "Who would have -reckoned on that chance?" - -"None but good Protestants are abroad to-night," answered the Admiral; -"but I doubt if you will be safe in London much longer----" - -"I will come to The Hague as soon as I dare--tell His Highness so much; -but I would not have my going prejudice those who must remain at their -posts--it would give a colour to rumours if I was to return to The -Hague----" - -"My Lord Sunderland manageth the rumours," smiled Herbert. - -"My Lord Sunderland," repeated Mr. Sidney reflectively, "is difficult -stuff to handle. I tell you plainly that I do not know how far he will -go." - -"But he will not betray us?" - -"No--I can go warrant for that." - -They turned down the Strand and walked along the river, which was lively -with water-men and boats of music and great barges. - -"M. Zuylestein will be sending Edward Russell with further news," said -Mr. Sidney. "Look out for him, I pray you, at The Hague." - -"Edward Russell must be weary of running to and fro England and -Holland," remarked Herbert. "And how long will the King allow M. -Zuylestein to drill parties against him?" - -Mr. Sidney answered shortly. - -"Mr. Russell hath my reason of hatred to the house of Stewart, and as -for M. Zuylestein he is too clever to give His Majesty a chance to -interfere." - -They paused at one of the landing stages, and Herbert shouted to an idle -pair of oars that was looking for custom. - -"Now, farewell," he said, "lest you shame my appearance--I shall be at -Gravesend to-night and, given fair wind, at Maaslandsluys in a day." He -pressed Mr. Sidney's hand, smiled, and hastened down the steps. - -With a sobbing swish of water the boat drew up; the oars clanked in the -rowlocks. Mr. Sidney watched the tall figure in the red breeches of the -sailor step in, look back and wave his hand; then the boat joined the -others that covered the dark river, and was soon lost to sight in the -cross glimmers of lanterns and half-seen shapes. - -Mr. Sidney remained gazing down the Thames--behind him the great capital -rejoicing with their bells and rockets and bonfires, their shouting and -singing, behind him the luxurious palace where the King must be enduring -a sharp humiliation. Mr. Sidney smiled; he thought with a keenness rare -in his soft nature of his brother who had laid down his life on Tower -Hill through the intrigues of the Duke of York, now King. It astonished -himself how much the memory of that injury rankled. He had not loved -his brother to half the measure that he hated the man who had brought -him to death. Indolent in mind and temper, he loathed cruelty, and the -blood of Algernon Sidney was not the only witness to the cruelty of -James Stewart. Mr. Sidney had seen the look on the fair face of Lord -Monmouth when he landed at the Tower stairs; he had seen well-born men -and women, implicated only indirectly in the late rebellion, shipped off -to Virginia as slaves, while the Italian Queen and her women quarrelled -over the price of them; he had seen, in this short reign, many acts of -an extraordinary tyranny and cruelty, and his thoughts dealt -triumphantly on Mr. Herbert, slipping down the river out of the tumult -and excitement to the quiet of Gravesend with an important little paper -in his seaman's coat pocket. - - - - - CHAPTER IV - - THE MESSENGER FROM ENGLAND - - -Madame de Marsac, one time Miss Basilea Gage and maid of honour to the -Queen of England, sat in the window-place of an inn in The Hague and -looked down into the street. There was an expression of indifference on -her face and of listlessness in her attitude, though a man in black -velvet was standing near to her and speaking with an appearance of great -energy, and he was M. D'Avaux, minister of King Louis XIV to the States -General. - -Basilea was Romanist, of a family who had held that faith since the days -of Queen Mary Tudor; her husband, two years dead, an officer in the -French Army, had left her with a small fortune and no regrets, since she -was yet undecided as to whether she had liked him or no; though too -clever to be unhappy she was miserably idle, and had drifted from Paris -back to London, and from London to Amsterdam, where her late lord's -people were prominent among the powerful French faction, and still -without finding any interest in life. - -It was M. D'Avaux, with whom she had some former acquaintance, who had -urgently requested her to come to The Hague, and she was here, listening -to him, but without enthusiasm, being more engaged in watching the great -number of well-dressed people who passed up and down the wide, clean -street. - -M. D'Avaux perhaps noticed her inattention, for he broke his discourse -with an abrupt question. - -"Would you care to see a revolution in your country--'49 over again with -the Prince of Orange in place of Cromwell?" - -She turned quickly, obviously startled. Though so indifferent to actual -happenings, she was tenacious of tradition, and she felt a vast, though -passive, admiration for the action of King James in re-establishing in -his kingdoms the ancient faith that was hers. - -"Why--you mean----" she began, and paused, searching his face with -puzzled dark eyes. - -"I mean, Madame," said M. D'Avaux strongly, "that your King is cutting -away the supports that prop his throne--you must know something of the -feeling in England." - -"Yes," she assented; "the trouble with the colleges, the declaration of -Indulgence, and some rare malicious talk of the Prince of Wales--but -nothing like--a revolution!" - -The Frenchman smiled. - -"Let me tell you some facts. When Henry Sidney was Envoy here he was in -reality the channel of communication between the Opposition in England -and His Highness--even since his recall he hath served the same -turn--and these last months Edward Russell hath been coming and going -with messages between the Prince and those great Protestants whom the -King hath put out of office." - -"If this is known," cried Basilea, "surely it can be prevented--it is -treason!" - -"What is treason in England, Madame, is loyalty at The Hague--and do you -imagine that I have any influence with the States, who are entirely -under the rule of the Prince?" - -"I have noticed," answered Basilea, "a monstrous number of English and -French Protestants at The Hague, but thought they came here for a mere -refuge." - -"They come here," said M. D'Avaux drily, "for revenge--since the Edict -of Nantes was revoked all the Huguenots look to the Prince, and since he -refused his assent to the declaration of Indulgence every Englishman who -is not a Romanist looketh to him also." - -Basilea rose; the sunshine was over her curls and blue dress, and shook -a red light from the garnets at her wrist; her eyes narrowed; she was -interested by this clear talk of important events. - -"What could the Prince do?" she asked quietly. - - M. D'Avaux replied with some passion. - -"This is the tenth year of the uneasy peace forced on His Highness by -His Majesty and the late King Charles, and not a month of that time that -he hath not been working to be avenged on us for the terms we obtained -then--he hath combined powers in secret leagues against us, he hath -vexed and defied us at every turn, and he hath never, for one moment, -ceased to intrigue for the help of England against us--in some final -issue." - -"But England," said Basilea quickly, "is entirely bound to France----" - -"Yes; and because of that, and because the Prince of Orange knoweth it, -King James is in a desperate strait----" - -"Why?" - -"Madame, I know the Prince tolerably well--he never relinquishes any -idea that hath a firm hold on his mind, and what he cannot accomplish by -diplomacy he will assay by force." - -"By force!" echoed Basilea, staring at the Ambassador. - -He came a little nearer to her and lowered his voice. - -"What is the business that keepeth Edward Russell on messenger duty to -and fro The Hague and London? What is the business that keepeth the -Prince for ever riding from his villa to the States? Why are all the -harness makers of the Provinces making bridles, bits, and spurs? Why is -the Prince, if there is not some great design afoot, buying up load -after load of hay--why are new ships being built, fresh troops being -raised?" - -"Surely," answered Basilea, "I have heard it said that the States were -making ready in case the dispute between King Louis and the Pope anent -Cologne should involve attack on their frontiers." - -"I do not believe it," said M. D'Avaux. "But King James and Lord -Sunderland take your view--they will not be roused, they will not see, -and daily they further rouse that loyalty which is their sole support. -I am well informed from England that not one man in ten believeth the -Prince of Wales to be the King's son, and that they regard the producing -of him as a mere fraud to cheat the Princesses of their birthright." - -"What do you mean, what do you think?" asked Basilea. "It is not -possible that the Prince should claim his wife's inheritance by force of -arms?" - -"You put it very succinctly," said M. D'Avaux. "That is exactly what I -think he will do." - -Basilea was silent. The, to her, amazing aspect of international -politics disclosed in M. D'Avaux's brief and troubled summary filled her -with dismay and anger. The domestic government of England did not -concern her, since she did not live under it, and her family, being -Romanist, were more prosperous under King James than they had ever been. -She had not given much thought to the justice or wisdom of the means the -King had taken to convert his kingdom, but she approved of the -principle. She had no admiration for the Prince of Orange, and no -sympathy for the cause he upheld. - -"He would never," she remarked, continuing her thoughts aloud, "dare the -scandal of an open rupture betwixt himself and His Majesty, who is both -his uncle and his wife's father----" - -"There is nothing but dislike between them since the King recalled -Sidney and the Prince refused his assent to the repeal of the Test -Act----" - -"But the Princess," interrupted Basilea. "Why, I used to know her, and -I dare assure you she is not one to forget her duty----" - -"Her duty!" repeated M. D'Avaux. - -He looked at her intently. - -"You have touched the reason why I asked you to come to The Hague," he -said. "I want you to wait on the Princess and obtain from her some -assurance that she would never countenance any menace to her father----" - -"I am sure she would not," answered Basilea at once. - -"I do hope it, for if she will not support her husband his design is as -good as hopeless, since it is her claim, not his own, he must put -forward." - -Basilea smiled. - -"She is a Stewart, must be a little ambitious, if nothing else, and hers -was not a love-match that she should sacrifice everything to her -husband." - -She glanced quickly at M. D'Avaux, and added-- - -"But you still look doubtful----" - -"Madame," he replied earnestly, "the Princess is a very ardent -Protestant----" - -"She was not at Whitehall." - -"--She hath," he continued, "lived ten years with the Prince----" - -"They say in England that he doth not treat her kindly----" - -"His Majesty hath done his best to put discord between them--when Her -Highness discovered that her Chaplain and one of her women, Anne -Trelawney, were working on His Majesty's orders to make mischief betwixt -the Prince and herself, she dismissed them. I thought that looked ill -for us." - -Basilea shook her head, still smiling. - -"An English princess will not be so soon subdued--I'll undertake to get -assurances from Her Highness that she is ignorant of these tales of the -designs of the Prince, and that she would never support them if she knew -of them." - -Basilea spoke with some animation; she felt sure of what she said, and -was not ill pleased to be of service to her own and her adopted country -in this, as she thought it, pleasant fashion. - -She remembered Mary Stewart as a lively, laughing girl, who had detested -and opposed her marriage with much spirit, and she had no fear that she -would find that wilful gay Princess difficult to manage. - - M. D'Avaux was not so confident. - -"You do not know the Prince," he remarked, and Basilea laughed. - -"He is not so redoubtable where women are concerned, I think," she -answered; "at least allow me to try." - -"I ask it of you," he said gravely; "for more hangs on this than I dare -think." - -"Sure, you need not fear the Prince," she returned, "if he had the most -wicked will in the world--the difficulties in his way are -unsurmountable." - -"France," he replied, "must make them so." - -On that he took his leave, and left Basilea with more busy thoughts than -had been hers for some while since. - -She returned to the window-seat, propped her chin on her palm, and -looked down the street. She was a pretty seeming woman, slender, dusky -brown in the hair and eyes, of a just height and proportion, and her -person was shown to advantage by the plain French style of her gown and -ringlets, which had a graceful simplicity wholly wanting in the stiff -fashions prevailing in England and the Low Countries. - -Her window looked upon an end of the Buitenhof, one of the two great -squares that formed the centre of The Hague so admired by strangers; it -was planted with lime trees, now past their flowering time, but still -fragrant and softly green in the gentle air of July. - -A great number of people of both sexes, finely dressed, were passing up -and down, on foot, on horseback, and in little open chariots and sedans. -Basilea noticed many unmistakeably English, Scotch, and French of -varying degrees of qualities--soldiers, divines, gentlemen, and women -mingling with the crowd, hastening past with intent faces or lounging -with idle glances at each other in hopes to detect a friend or patron. - -She opened the window and leaned out so that she could see the Buitenhof -with the straight lines and arches of the government buildings of the -States, the trees that shaded the great fish-pond called the Vyver, and -the open square where the carriages passed on their way to the -fashionable promenade of the Voorhout and Toorviveld. - -Among all the varying figures that caught her glance was that of a tall -man in the garb of an English seaman--red breeches, a tarred coat, a -cocked hat with his captain's colours, and a heavy sword. - -She noticed him first because he stopped to ask directions of two -passers-by, English also, and because he was, even among so many, of a -fine and showy appearance. - -He turned at first towards the arches that led through to the Binnenhof -and the Hall of the Knights, then hesitated, turned back, and retraced -his steps until he was just under Basilea's window. - -Here he paused again, and accosted a stout gentleman in the dress of an -Anglican priest, who was dashing through the press with a great air of -importance and hurry. - -On seeing the tarpaulin he greeted him with noisy surprise and pleasure, -and drew him a little out of the crowd, and proceeded to converse -eagerly with the unction of the inveterate talker. - -Basilea laughed to herself as she observed the seaman's efforts to -escape, and to obtain some answer to a question first. - -At last he seemed to accomplish both, for he wrenched himself from the -powerful presence of the priest, and hastened towards the Stadhuis, -while the other called after him in a voice meant to be subdued, but -still so resonant that Basilea could hear every word: "The Prince will -be back to-morrow evening!" - -The seaman waved his hat, nodded, and hastened on. - -Basilea wondered why a common sailor should be concerned as to when His -Highness returned to The Hague, and concluded, rather angrily, that here -was evidence of one of the manifold intrigues which the Whigs, M. -D'Avaux had assured her, carried on almost openly in Holland. - - - - - CHAPTER V - - THE PRINCESS OF ORANGE - - -Basilea de Marsac waited on Her Highness the day after her interview -with M. D'Avaux; a curious coincidence had strengthened her desire to -see the Princess, and piqued her curiosity as to the sentiments of that -lady. One of the fast packets that were constantly plying between the -States and England had brought her a letter from Lady Sunderland, who -was, to Basilea, a person who of all others must find it her interest -and duty to be intensely loyal. My lady wrote a long and involved -letter, but the sum of it seemed to be what M. D'Avaux had put much more -plainly, namely, that the King's party (among whom was, of course, Lord -Sunderland) had become alarmed at the crisis the actions of His Majesty -had brought upon the country in attempting to push forward his own -religion, and that they feared an active interference on the part of the -Prince of Orange, now his wife's claims were indefinitely postponed by -the birth of the Prince of Wales, and his hopes of an English alliance -against the French for ever shattered by the policy of King James. - -Lady Sunderland concluded by asking of Basilea what M. D'Avaux had -asked--that she should discover the mind of the Princess, and draw some -promise from her for the satisfaction of Royalist and Romanist, to the -effect that Her Highness would never let her title to the English throne -be a handle for her husband's political designs. - -Basilea was half roused, half amused by the double errand. She was not -very well informed about politics, but she felt in her heart an absolute -doubt of any revolution in England. All her life there had been talk of -it, but it had always ended in a few executions or fights in Scotland, -or some such vague conclusions in which she had never been very -interested; but she could understand that Lady Sunderland did not feel -lukewarm in the matter. Ever since the May of last year, when the Earl -had been converted to the Church of Rome (a step which none other of the -King's ministers had taken), he had been as detested in England as it -was possible for a man to be. The King alone protected him, and if he -fell, there was little doubt that his fall also would be swift and -terrible. - -Basilea liked the Countess; she was better pleased to serve her than to -serve M. D'Avaux, and she anticipated, with pleasure, being able to -write in answer that the Princess was still a Stewart, despite ten -years' residence in Holland. - -It was late afternoon when Basilea had her audience (accorded without -difficulty) at the Prince's villa beyond The Hague, called the 'huis ten -bosch' by reason of the beautiful wood and deer park in which it stood. -This house had been built by the Prince's grandmother, Amalia of Solms, -and contained the famous hall which she had decorated in honour of her -husband, the Stadtholder Frederick Henry. There was no splendour, -however, in the apartments Basilea saw; the appointments were neat and -comfortable, but neither lavish nor rich, and she had known English -ladies better served as to the quantity and appearance of servants than -was the Princess Royal of England. - -In a room at the back, that overlooked a formal garden filled with roses -and box hedges, Basilea found the mistress of the quiet house and the -lady whose mind two great kingdoms were anxious to know. - -It was a chamber panelled in walnut, and furnished by chairs with worked -seats and stools with fringed covers, several fine pieces of Eastern -furniture, and many shelves on which stood curious and vivid china -monsters and vases, and low pots filled with roses. - -Basilea did not know which of the two young ladies seated by the window -was the Princess, so utterly had ten years worked their change. - -She hesitated after her courtsey, and the taller of the two ladies came -forward and took her hand warmly. - -"Are you Basilea Gage with whom I used to play at Twickenham?" she -asked. "Why did you not come to see me sooner?" - -She smiled half wistfully, and turned to her companion. - -"This is Mademoiselle Dyckfelt, and this is Madame de Marsac, Anne, whom -I told you was coming to-day." - -She had a timid way of speaking, as if she was shy, and, to Basilea, -something of the formal in her manner, as if she was preoccupied. - -The Dutch lady was like most of her countrywomen whom Basilea had -observed, very fair and pretty, with that glow and robust brightness -that gave the women of Holland their reputation for handsomeness. She -was plainly dressed in grey branched with silver, and was engaged in -working a chair-cover in cross stitch. The vivid green and blue of the -wools she used showed off her small, plump white hands--a common beauty -among her nation. - -The Princess began talking of England and the people she remembered -there; while Basilea answered she observed Mary, who seemed to her -disappointingly strange and indifferent. - -Still little more than a girl, she was extremely beautiful, uniting her -father's aristocratic grace and her mother's soft charm; though -dignified and above the common height, she bore herself humbly and with -a deprecating sweetness. - -Basilea was not the only one who at first sight had been impressed with -the air of simple purity which heightened and glorified Mary's beauty, -for it was impossible to find a fault in her person or manner: she was -unconscious of herself, tactful, without affectations or vanities, -watchful for others, and charming in address, though with that pretty -reserve that Basilea called formality. - -Her features were not unlike those of her ancestress--another Mary -Stewart, Queen of Scotland--soft and lovely, childlike in profile, with -the gentle curve of contour; but grave and rather sad in the full look, -and with the expression of a woman, and a woman who has observed, -grieved, and pitied. - -Her brown eyes were very large, misty, and continually narrowed from -weak sight, her hair, of the Stewart red-brown, hung in thick natural -curls from a simple knot in her neck. - -She gained no advantage from her dress, which would not have offended a -Puritan: the straight, boned bodice and stiff falling stuff of a dull -pink colour held no line of grace, and the prim ruffles to wrist and -throat were more decorous than becoming. At the English court her -attire would have been considered ugly, if not ridiculous, and Basilea -did not find it pleasing. She was not herself of a type that can afford -to forego the advantages of adornment, and she reflected that with the -Princess's beauty and her own taste she could have made a sumptuous -appearance. - -While thus inwardly admired and criticized, Mary was speaking of England -and all her one-time friends there, and Mademoiselle Dyckfelt making -comments in pretty broken English, accompanied with a little gasping -laugh which Basilea had noticed in many Dutch people. - -Through all her amiable converse Mary betrayed some slight inner -agitation and expectation, as if she feared the visit might have another -meaning than mere courtesy; and Basilea guessed that she, whose position -was one of such importance in Europe, must be used to oblique attempts -to sound her views. - -With a half-faint amusement she made her own essay-- - -"Highness, I was in good hopes that you would not seem such a stranger -to me, because I am instructed to make the venture to speak with -you----" - -Mary looked at her quickly, and interrupted-- - -"By whom instructed?" - -"Lady Sunderland, Madame, for whom your Highness was wont to have some -kindness." - -The Princess flushed, and Basilea wondered why, as her sole answer was-- - -"I think Lady Sunderland a good woman." - -Basilea smiled. - -"She is also, as Your Highness knoweth, a great politic, which I never -was nor could be, and hath set me to ask Your Highness some questions -bearing on great affairs." - -"Great affairs," said Mary under her breath. She rose gravely. "I -think we must not plague Mademoiselle Dyckfelt with this talk. Will -you, Madame, come into the garden?" - -The Dutch maiden rose and unlatched the long window, then returned -placidly to her sewing. - -Mary and Basilea descended a few steps into the formal garden, mainly -composed of box hedges and clipt rose bushes, with a square pond in the -centre bordered with little yellow yew trees in wooden tubs and precise -beds of pinks and herbs. - -The tall and beautiful trees of the deer park in which the villa stood -rose up, with the elegant air of loftiness peculiar to the trees of a -perfectly flat country where they are the highest things the eye has -within range; the air also was characteristic, being of that strangely -exhilarating quality of salt freshness that in every part of the United -Provinces served as a perpetual reminder of the sea. It was warm -to-day, and the sun was golden in the foliage, and lay in scattered -flecks of light among the flowers, and on the pond where two waterlilies -were slowly closing to the evening. - -"You may speak quite frankly now," said Mary, as they proceeded slowly -down the gravel path. "Have you a message from Lady Sunderland?" - -"No, Madame," said Basilea, surprised that the Princess should seem to -expect it. "Only--it is difficult to express, Highness--but there are -monstrous tales abroad in France, England, and even here----" - -The Princess looked at her silently. - -"They do say," continued Basilea, "that His Highness meddleth in the -affairs of England, and these rumours give disquietude to His -Majesty----" - -Mary broke in, rather breathless-- - -"I know nothing of business--my husband heareth so much of it abroad -that he is glad to talk of other matters at home. What doth Lady -Sunderland want of me?" - -Basilea answered directness with directness. - -"She wisheth to know--that the Earl may put it privately before His -Majesty--your mind on the matter between His Highness and the King." - -"What matter is that?" asked Mary. - -Basilea was at a loss. - -"Your Highness must know better than I: as for these horrible -rumours----" - -Mary paused by a rose bush and asked steadily-- - -"What rumours?" - -"I think it would be unseemly to name them!" - -"I will hold you excused," said the Princess, still gravely. - -"Then, Madame, 'tis said that His Highness is so exasperate with the -policy of His Majesty and postponement of your claim by the birth of the -Prince, that he might attempt to do what my Lord Monmouth did----" - -Mary's fine fingers pulled delicately at the rose leaves. - -"My husband and that poor unhappy gentleman are such different -characters and in such different situations," she said, "that there can -be no comparison. I think the Prince would never do as the Duke did." - -Basilea looked at her keenly. - -"'Tis asserted, Lady Sunderland saith, that the Prince is in league with -all the discontents of England, that he sheltereth many at The -Hague----" - -"This country," answered the Princess quietly, "hath always been a -refuge for the unfortunate, and it is reasonable that the near -connection of my husband to the throne should give him an interest in -English business." - -Basilea was older than the Princess, whose air of extreme gentleness -further emboldened her to take, half unconsciously, a masterful tone. - -"I can assure Lady Sunderland that His Highness is innocent of the -designs imputed to him." - -Mary glanced up from the rose bush; she smiled very slightly. - -"Why, you must go to the Prince for that assurance; I know nothing about -it." - -Basilea stirred the gravel with her square-toed red shoe. - -"You must know, Madame," she said slowly, "whether you would hinder or -further the Prince his projects?" - -Mary flushed, and the full brown eyes narrowed. - -"Neither you nor I," she answered, "can discuss His Highness his -projects, which ever have been and will be for the good of Europe." - -Basilea looked at her curiously. - -"I fear Your Highness will think me impertinent, but," she thought of -the grave words of M. D'Avaux, and the memory urged her not to be put -off by the evasiveness of the Princess--"but there are strange things -said in Paris and London----" - -"Madame de Marsac," interrupted Mary gently, "if my father hath cause to -complain of me, he must send a direct messenger." - -Basilea felt herself rebuked. - -"I do not carry His Majesty's complaints, Highness," she answered -humbly. "I am but the poor engine of the fears of my Lady Sunderland, -who saith that in London the Prince his name is on the lips of all the -discontents, and it is feared that they might set him up as a pretender; -and since that could not be if you refused your consent, it would be a -great comfort to His Majesty and his faithful ministers if you would -give that assurance." - -The Princess took a step forward, then stopped as if by an effort of -self-control. - -"I cannot deal with these secret and underground counsels," she said -firmly; "and my poor brains are not fit for business." - -"This is not business, Highness," urged Basilea. - -"Whatever you call it," demanded the Princess, "why did you undertake -it?" - -"Because M. D'Avaux----" began Basilea, then stopped vexed; she had not -meant to mention that name. - -"M. D'Avaux," repeated Mary, with a heightened colour; "so he hath a -mind to know what I shall do if a certain crisis cometh?" - -Both the tone and the words seemed to betray more interest and knowledge -than she had yet disclosed, and Basilea was encouraged. - -"M. D'Avaux is an acquaintance of mine," she said frankly. - -"Ah yes," replied Mary; "you are a Papist, and your husband was a -Frenchman. I think that meaneth," she added courteously, "that we -cannot see things the same." - -"Your Highness doth not desire to behold Europe embroiled in another -war!" - -Mary answered earnestly-- - -"There is nothing further from my wishes, and no ambition of mine," she -added half wistfully, "would disturb anybody's peace. I bless my God -that I know the life I am suited to, and I thank Him that He hath given -me the grace to know when I am happy." - -She put her hand gently on Basilea's sleeve. - -"It is getting too dark to remain here, and you have not even looked at -my roses!" - -Basilea admitted herself defeated. She was a little chagrined at the -thought of the lame report she would have to give M. D'Avaux, but she -could press no more, especially as she had an uneasy feeling that the -Princess thought the less of her for the errand she had come upon. - -She left talk of politics, and Mary accompanied her with easy courtesy -to the front of the villa, where her hired chariot waited with her maid -yawning herself to death over an old-fashioned romance by Mademoiselle -de Scudery, which she had found in the inn parlour. - -The sky was paling and flushing behind the great avenue of trees rich in -their full leafage, and the rooks were noisy in the branches. - -"This is a pretty spot, Highness," said Basilea, on the impulse of the -moment. - -Mary smiled. - -Two men were mounting the few wide entrance steps. Basilea noticed -them, because one was the red-breeched sailor whom she had seen -yesterday beneath her window, the other was a slight gentleman in a -circular mantle turned up over one shoulder, wearing riding boats and -carrying a whip; Basilea saw his horse being led off by a bareheaded -groom. - -She could not restrain her curiosity at seeing the seaman entering the -Prince's villa. - -"Doth Your Highness know that man?" she asked. - -Mary glanced at the two as she closed the gate in the garden wall. - -"Which?" she asked, smiling. - -"The English sailor----" - -"No; but he hath good credentials, for that is the Prince with him," -said Mary quietly. - -Basilea was further surprised; she endeavoured to gain a closer view of -the Stadtholder and his companion, but they had entered the house; she -was satisfied, however, that she had something to tell M. D'Avaux. - -"You must not marvel at the companion of His Highness," continued the -Princess; "there are many come here who are glad to wear disguises, -owing to the rancour of the persecution of the Protestants in France." - -Basilea courtsied her leave. She was quite convinced that the seaman -was not French nor on any message from France, and she was beginning to -be convinced, too, that the Princess was marvellously changed and -different, and that it would be well for neither Lady Sunderland nor M. -D'Avaux to be too sure of her compliance. - -Mary allowed her to depart without that demonstration of kindness with -which she had received her, and Basilea stepped into her chariot feeling -disappointed and dissatisfied. - -Mary, still standing by the garden wall at the side of the house, -watched the little coach swing out of sight down the long darkening -drive, and when it was lost in the shadows ran lightly up the steps and -in through the tall doors: there, in the light painted vestibule, she -found the Prince and the English seaman conversing. - -She paused, flushed, and breathing in pants. The Prince took off his -hat, and said-- - -"This is the Princess, sir." - -The sailor turned quickly, and gave her a sharp look as he bowed. - -"This is Admiral Herbert, Madame," continued the Prince, "who is new -come from England." - -The colour receded from Mary's face. She glanced in a half frightened -way at her husband. - -"Oh," she murmured, "I wished to speak to you--but it can wait--for I -suppose Admiral Herbert his business is ... important." - -There was a tenseness of containment among the three of them, as if they -were all aware of great events and would not speak of them. - -"If the Princess is informed----" began Arthur Herbert. - -The Stadtholder interrupted. - -"The Princess knoweth everything, Mr. Herbert." - -Arthur Herbert betrayed the slightest surprise, covered instantly by a -ready turn of speech. - -"Her Highness will understand, then, the importance of my business." - -He bowed again, very courteous, to Mary, who answered instantly-- - -"I will not hinder you, Mr. Herbert, not for an instant." - -The Prince looked at her. - -"Send for me when I am free, Madame." - -With that they both saluted her, and turned into the room at the right -of the vestibule. - -Mary stood motionless in the twilight, staring at the spot where the -English messenger had stood, peered at the closed door that concealed -him, then went softly and, it seemed, fearfully away. - - - - - CHAPTER VI - - THE LETTERS OF MR. HERBERT - - -When Admiral Herbert found himself closeted with William of Orange, he -had some eagerness in observing that Prince whose name was so much in -the mouths of men, and who had grown to be a kind of lodestar to -Protestant England. - -The first thing that impressed a courtier of the Stewarts, used to a -lavish and extravagant habit of living, was that there was no splendour -in the plain dark room, the stern furnishing of which seemed almost -parsimony in a royal Prince, nor any manner of display about the -Stadtholder himself, who, with his own hands, shifted the candles in the -brass sticks from the mantelshelf to the table, and set open the window -on the summer woods. - -Arthur Herbert looked keenly at him; he had dropped his hat and mantle -on to a chair, and his person was fully revealed in the steady red -candle glow. - -He was at this time in his thirty-seventh year, at the height of his -reputation: the most respected statesman, one of the most feared -generals and powerful rulers in Europe, the head of the nation which was -supreme in trade and maritime dominion, the foremost champion of the -reformed religion, first Prince of the blood in England, the close ally -and councillor of the Empire, of Spain, the Northern States, Germany, -and, as it was whispered, of the Pope, the leader of the English -opposition, and husband to the heiress of that country, the rallying -point for the discontents and indignations of all those whom the King of -France had injured or the King of England put out of humour. - -This combination of circumstance and quality that had given him the -unique position he held, made him the most discussed and famous figure -at present before the eyes of men. Even where he was abused and decried -he was never forgotten, and shared in the minds of the French almost as -much attention as their own exalted King. - -Added to his present fame was the glamour of past heroism, the history -of his splendid house, the great deeds of his ancestors, his own -breaking from unhappy childhood and desolate youth to power in one day -of chaos and ruin, blood and despair, his almost miraculous deliverance -of his country, constant devotion to it, and his firm adherence to the -persecuted religion were unique in the history of princes, and lived in -the minds of men. - -The man who was of this estimation in Europe, who possessed so many -extraordinary qualities, and had had so strange a history, appeared to -the Englishman as a gentleman of no particular appearance of energy, -rather below than above the middle height, and of a frail physique and -slenderness of proportion rare in a man of action, and which reminded -Herbert of my Lord Shaftesbury, whose impetuous and fiery manners had -counteracted the effect of his feeble person. - -The Stadtholder differed there, being entirely composed and stately, and -holding himself with a certain stiff control, as one trained to maintain -dignity and the foremost place in the sight of men. - -His countenance was manly, grave, and remarkable, chiefly by reason of -his large brilliant eyes of a lively hazel, sparkling and expressive, -and his thick dark brown hair, which he wore falling on to his collar -like an old-fashioned cavalier; his high aquiline nose, full mouth very -firmly set, slightly cleft chin and hollowed cheeks, clear and tanned -complexion, conveyed a subtle sense of youth and simplicity, despite his -rather severe and austere expression, as if at heart he was still as -ardent as when he wrested the three conquered provinces from the French; -his face, though thin and worn, was unlined. - -He wore a violet riding coat of a heavy fashion, and a cravat of thick -Bruges lace and a plain sword. Herbert would never have taken him for a -soldier. He wondered if he would ever please the English as he had done -the Dutch, or courts as he did people, and was conscious of an -unreasonable feeling of incongruity in this being the man looked to as -the saviour of England, indeed of half Europe. - -The Prince pulled off his gloves slowly, the while looking on the floor. -He was seated the other side of the table to Herbert, who thought he had -found some reluctance or difficulty in speaking, perhaps because he was -using English, with which language he was tolerably familiar, but spoke -with no kind of grace, but rather a distaste. - -"You are sent by Mr. Sidney?" he asked at last. - -He had a short, strong way of speaking; his manner was stately to -coldness. Arthur Herbert looked in vain for any trace of emotion or -curiosity as to the momentous errand he must know that he, Herbert, had -come upon, or even, as he reflected rather vexedly, any welcome for -himself. - -"By Mr. Sidney and some others, sir," he answered. - -The Prince put his gloves on the table, and raised his eyes. - -"You have, Mr. Herbert, brought some answer to my late request that some -powerful English families should give me a written invitation to this -expedition to which the Protestant lords have so constantly, and, of -late, so insistently urged me." - -Admiral Herbert put his hand into the breast of his common coat, and -pulled out a sealed packet, which he handed to the Prince. - -"This association, Your Highness, of which you have had advices from my -Lord Shrewsbury and Mr. Sydney, is at length signed by seven of our -great men, and I pray Your Highness to take it as full warrant for -interfering in the present miserable estate of England." - -After having delivered this speech, Admiral Herbert looked straightly at -the Prince, who was slowly breaking the seals. He felt more enthusiasm -for the cause than for His Highness, and more warmly for both when he -was not in the actual presence of the Prince, whose personal coldness -had an ill effect on the Englishman's impatient nature. - -"This is Mr. Sidney his hand," remarked the Prince. - -Arthur Herbert laid another letter on the dark, shining table. - -"There is also a personal letter from that gentleman." - -William looked rapidly over the contents of the packet, and his thin -cheek flushed. - -"This is definite," he said. - -"Your Highness asked that it might be." - -The Prince took up the other letter, and read it over with great -quickness. - -"Mr. Sidney saith my Lord Nottingham would not sign," he remarked; "is -that timidity?" - -"Some manner of prudence, I suppose, sir; but he will not betray our -design. He gave us leave to take his life if we thought him capable of -it; but I believe he can go to Court and not discover any sign of the -concern he is under, so close a man he is." - -"Oh, he is honest," said William dryly. He took up the first letter -again; it was signed at the bottom by seven numbers, thus: 25, 24, 27, -29, 31, 35, 33; the Prince did not require the code sent him by Henry -Sidney to discover the names these numbers stood for; he had the cipher -by heart, and knew that the seven who had signed were Lord Shrewsbury, -Lord Devonshire, Lord Danby, Lord Lumley, the suspended Compton, Bishop -of London, Admiral Russell, and Mr. Sydney himself. They represented a -body of opinion that was weighty; if they were not many, they were -powerful, and the Prince himself had said that he did not need many -names if they were those of great families. Lord Halifax, who had been -one of his warmest supporters, had shrunk from the first hint of -anything so violent as a revolution, and the Prince had forbidden the -design to be opened to him; for the scruples of Lord Nottingham he had -also been prepared; therefore the signatures were the utmost that he -could have hoped for; but he gave no sign of excitement or satisfaction, -but sat thoughtfully looking at the two papers in his hand. - -"Mr. Sidney saith that you are well instructed in these affairs, Mr. -Herbert," he said at last, raising his great eyes. "This paper is well -composed and comprehensive, but it saith nothing of how far the King is -suspicious of these gentlemen and their correspondence with me. And -that is an important matter." - -Admiral Herbert answered instantly. - -"The King is kept amused by my Lord Sunderland, sir, who hath his entire -confidence." - -"My Lord Sunderland hath not openly joined you?" - -"No, sir; and in truth his conduct is a mystery, but Mr. Sidney hath a -pledge from the Countess that he will not betray us." - -"I am tolerably sure of my lord," answered the Prince. "He hath control -of the foreign correspondence, hath he not?" - -"Yes, Your Highness. We have felt some fears for M. D'Albeville, the -King his envoy here, it being generally believed that he is in the pay -of M. Barillon." - -"He receiveth some kind of pension from him," said the Prince calmly, -"and maketh him all manner of promises. But he is better fee'd by me, -and I do know that he sendeth beguiling letters home." - -"Then I think there is no one likely to open the King his eyes. It all -resteth now on the resolution of Your Highness." - -The Prince very faintly smiled. - -"They suggest any attempt, if any be made, this year, do they not?" he -said, instantly grave again. - -"At once, sir, is what we should wish." - -The Prince rose and crossed to the hearth. - -"This winter would be the soonest," he answered quietly. "Tell me more -of England--it is the King his purpose to call a packed parliament in -the autumn?" - -Arthur Herbert replied with a kind of angry energy that betrayed the -force that had involved him in these intrigues. - -"The charters being taken from the towns, the franchise is in the King -his hands, and is only to be granted to those who will swear to return -His Majesty his candidate, the Protestant Lord-Lieutenants have been -displaced by Catholic, and they have orders to let no one into office -who will not consent to the repeal of the Test Act--so we are all -officered by Papists, and to be a Protestant is to starve." - -"My uncle," said the Prince, with an accent of cold contempt, "would -never make a good tyrant; when liberty is conquered 'tis by more subtle -ways than this." - -Arthur Herbert's eyes sparkled. - -"I tell you, sir, that in one place where the electorate hath been -reduced to fifteen, even these are so little to be relied upon, the King -was told his man had no chance." - -"Why, surely," answered William, "the English are not of a spirit to -endure this monstrous breakage of the laws." - -Arthur Herbert looked at him again with that half admiration, half -dislike; in truth there was nothing in common between the two men but -enthusiasm for the same cause--in the one transient, impulsive, based on -personal interest; in the other strong, unchanging, deep as life itself. - -Some weeks ago the Englishman had received a letter from the Prince -offering him his protection, and Arthur Herbert could not recognise in -the quiet Stadtholder the writer of that warm, firm, courteous, well -turned letter, but none too quick as his perceptions were, they -perceived that there must be something in this man that he had missed; -the fire and ardour might escape him, but it must be there. Meanwhile, -gratitude was still his cue; warming with a real sense of the grievous -hurts done to the liberties of England, he proceeded to enlarge on the -text of the letter, to paint the distracted, exasperated condition of -the public mind in England, the common hopes of the Prince, the ardent -desire among the most prudent and knowing men of affairs for his active -interference before the packed parliament was called to force the repeal -of the Test Act, the disbelief in the young heir being a child of the -Queen's, and the small chance that either the army or the navy would be -loyal to James. - -The Prince listened with attention but no sign of feeling; when Mr. -Herbert finished William crossed to the window and closed it, the -draught was setting the candles guttering. - -"M. Zuylestein hath been successful?" he asked, and coughed a little. - -"He seemeth a most able man, sir; at his secret house in Greg Street all -this hath been considered and performed. We did desire him to remain in -England until we had an answer from Your Highness, and, to give a -careless air to his staying, he hath gone into the country." - -"It is well," answered the Prince, approaching the table. "Mr. Herbert, -you shall have your answer very soon. I shall to-night consult with M. -Fagel and M. Dyckfelt, who, as you know, were aware of these affairs -from the first inception of them; to-morrow I will advise with you -again. Meanwhile I will ask you to take your entertainment at my -house." - -He paused to draw breath, as he always did after any save those very -brief sentences he usually employed. The asthma he had had for years -was obvious in these painful gasping breaths and constant coughs. - -"You have done me a great service," he continued. "I am very much -obliged to you; you are a man of spirit." - -Admiral Herbert rose. - -"I am greatly indebted to the generosity of Your Highness; but there are -spies at The Hague, and it might give a colour to reports already too -persistent were I discovered to be lodging with Your Highness. Among -the fugitives from England in the town I am easily hid." - -Again William gave his faint, instantly checked smile. - -"I am glad that you are not forgetful of prudence, Mr. Herbert. We -cannot be too careful." - -Mr. Herbert hesitated, eyed the Prince, then said, with more boldness -than he felt-- - -"I must tell Your Highness that there is one matter, too delicate to -commit to writing, that hath been in debate among your friends in -London----" - -"Ah?" questioned the Prince. - -"--'tis the attitude of the Princess, sir." - -William seemed to slightly stiffen and straighten. - -"What should her attitude be but the same as mine?" he asked. - -Mr. Herbert coloured. - -"Forgive me, sir, she is King James his daughter----" - -The Prince interrupted-- - -"Also my wife," he said quietly, but with extraordinary force and, it -seemed, pride. "You shall hear the lady for yourself, sir." - -He touched a heavy bell on the table and a servant instantly appeared. - -"Request the presence of Her Highness," he said, then spoke again to -Herbert when the man had gone. - -"It is only just that in this great issue in which she is so intimately -concerned that you should hear her mind from her own lips." - -"No one doubteth the loyalty of the Lady Mary to yourself, sir," -answered Mr. Herbert, lying cheerfully, for he had been one of the most -cynical in discussing this same loyalty in London. - -William coughed again, and seated himself by the table with his Frisian -lace handkerchief pressed to his lips. Mr. Herbert was suddenly -impressed by the fact that he looked not only ill but in pain. - -A little pause of silence, and the Princess entered. She had changed -her gown, and wore a dress of the same stiff pattern in white brocade, -with tinsel and a ribbon of pearls in her hair. - -William rose and gave her one look as she closed the door, then lowered -his eyes as he spoke. - -"Madame, Mr. Herbert cometh from England with an invitation to me from -my friends there to go there with a force to protect the laws and the -religion----" - -"Ah!" exclaimed Mary; she came straight to the table and dazzled in the -candlelight. Mr. Herbert looked at her, and noticed only her -comeliness; he was not a man to distinguish types or degrees in beauty. -If a woman were pretty, to him she was nothing more, and the prettier -she was the less he credited her with sense or strength. The Princess's -air of dignity and spiritual look did not save her from this judgment; -he dismissed her as a pleasing young creature, useful for nothing save -to smile and work fantastic finery when she was not saying her prayers. -He smiled, therefore, at the Prince's grave way of speaking to her; she -seemed, he noticed, much moved, her body quivered, and she fixed her -eyes on her husband with a painful intensity. - -"You know," he continued, with a certain simplicity that had a curious -effect, taken with his great seriousness, "the project that was first -suggested to me by Lord Mordaunt a year gone; this hath been repeated by -weightier men, and the times are riper----" - -He paused rather abruptly. - -"Will you tell Mr. Herbert that you would approve of this undertaking?" -he finished, and with a palpable effort. - -Mary withdrew her eyes to fix them on Mr. Herbert. - -"Surely," she said, "you do not require that assurance from me?" - -She gave a little weak laugh, and clasped her hands tightly and -unclasped them. - -"I do not know what words to choose to convince you how utterly I am in -the hands of my husband, nor how foolish I am in matters of business." -She drew a deep breath, and added, with a blushing earnestness, "If -circumstances permit my husband to make this attempt, my will is one -with his in the design, which I consider holy as well as just----" - -Mr. Herbert bowed, and the bright young beauty added with the gravity -that was her manner-- - -"--but if my husband his design was not just, I fear I should still -support him in it!" - -Mr. Herbert could do nothing but bow to this outspoken statement; if the -words were spontaneous or learnt, lesson fashion, from the Prince, was -no matter to him. They set at rest the doubts some of the seven, -particularly Lord Danby, had raised concerning her attitude. - -He took his leave of the Princess, and she seemed like one amazed, as if -she neither saw nor heard him. The Prince went with him into the -antechamber, and the last look Herbert had of Mary was the sight of her -standing quite still, with her face as pale as the little braid of -pearls in her dark hair, and the fingers of her right hand pressed to -the tinsel bows on her stiff bodice. - -In a few moments the Prince returned, and then she moved abruptly and -took the tall-backed walnut chair Mr. Herbert had occupied, pushed it -from the table, and gazed up at her husband. - -He had still the two letters in his hand. He looked at Mary. With the -departure of the Englishman his manner had entirely changed; this was -very noticeable, though he said nothing. - -"You are fatigued," said Mary in a shaking voice, "so fatigued--I -know----" - -He cast the letters down between them. - -"Oh, silly!" he answered, "that must be always thinking of my fatigues!" - -He put his thin hand over hers, that rested on the edge of the table, -and gave an excited little laugh. - -"Thou hast heard this man, Mary.... I think I am pledged to an -extraordinary task." - - - - - CHAPTER VII - - THE SILENT WOOD - - -Mary answered simply, but with a dreadful force of emotion-- - -"You will go?" - -He replied to her tone more than to her words. - -"Nay, I must." He pressed the fingers lying cold under his. "Do thou -forgive me, but I must." - -"Oh, God pity me!" cried Mary. - -The Prince flushed. - -"There is no other way to preserve Christendom," he said; "if I do not -take this step there is a life's work wasted, and we are no better than -we were in '72." - -"I know," she answered hastily. "I know--but--oh, that our duty had -lain another way! Yet I will not be weak; if I cannot help I will not -hinder." - -She bit her lip to keep back tears, it seemed, and smiled valiantly. - -"Tell me all that Mr. Herbert said," she asked. - -He broke out at that. - -"These foreigners! That black-avised stalwart thinketh of nothing but -his own interest. He cometh here, in his feeble disguise, like a boy -playing at a game, and, by Heaven, 'tis the manner they all take it -in----" - -"You must not call them foreigners," said Mary, in a quick distress; -"your mother's people and mine----" - -The Prince lifted his hand from hers, and let it fall impatiently. - -"Foreigners to me! Once I may have felt that tie, but now I dislike -them when they flatter and when they sneer." He changed abruptly to a -tenderer tone. "What had you to say to me?" - -"Nothing," she answered, "of importance beside this news; only that an -old schoolfellow of mine--a meddling Papist--(God forgive me, but I -liked her not) sought to sound me to-day, set on by M. D'Avaux, who must -guess something--but what is that beside this?" - -She pointed piteously to the letters. - -"They have committed themselves now, these gentlemen," remarked William, -with a certain grim satisfaction. "They can scarcely go back on their -written word, even these weathercocks of Englishmen." - -"They want you to go--this year?" She could not keep a certain energy -of fear from her tone. - -"Before the parliament is called in the autumn," he said concisely. - -Mary rose abruptly and crossed to the window. The rustle of her stiff -gown made a noticeable sound in the stillness, which was deep and -intense--the inner stillness of the house set in the outer stillness of -the wood. The glance of the Prince followed her. He stood silent. - -"There must be difficulties." She spoke without looking round. - -"Difficulties! Ah yes, and these English do not guess one-half of -them." - -She made no reply. Her head bent and her fingers fumbled at the latch, -which she presently undid, and a great breath of cool air, pure, with -the perfume of a hundred trees, swept into the room. - -The wood was motionless, the boughs dark against a lighter sky; one or -two stars pulsed secretively through and above the leafage, for all the -summer night they had a cold look, as if they circled in far-off frozen -latitudes. - -Mary knew and loved the wood so well that she was sensitive to those -subtle changes in it which were like moods in a human being; to-night, -unseen, shadowed like the thought of coming trouble, it seemed to her -sad, mysterious, and lonely, as the image of retreating happiness. - -She rested her head against the mullions, and presently put her hands up -to her face. Her husband, who had stood without a movement by the table -watching her, at this crossed over to her side. - -"I would to God," he said with energy, "that this could be helped. I -would the scandal of a break with your father could be avoided. But he -hath had every chance to be my friend and ally--you must admit, Mary, -that he hath had every chance." - -The few words conveyed to the Princess his meaning. She knew that he -referred to his long uphill struggle, lasting close on twenty years, to -induce England to shake off the yoke of France, and, in taking her -proper place among nations, restore the balance of power in Europe. -Throughout the years of the disgraceful reign of his Uncle Charles, -William had never swerved from his policy of endeavouring to detach him -from France, for it was very evident that but little headway could be -made against Louis while England was in his pay. When James had come to -the throne, the Stadtholder, with the utmost patience, had changed his -tactics to please the new King, and had, as he said, given him every -chance to put himself at the head of the inevitable conflict between -France and Europe, which must shortly take place. - -Mary knew this; she knew how reluctantly her husband would employ force -against so near a kinsman, how unwillingly he would leave Holland, how -much long experience had taught him to mistrust the levity of the -English, even those most professedly friendly to him, and she was aware -that only a tremendous need could force him to this tremendous -resolution, which was at once more daring and more necessary than any -man could realize save himself. - -In her heart she blamed her father most bitterly for forcing on them -this hateful expedient; but would not say so, nor open her heart at all -on that matter, lest her lips said more than her conscience could -approve. - -So to this remark that she so perfectly understood she replied nothing, -and did not move her hands from her face. - -The Prince spoke again rapidly. - -"Everything is strained to breaking-point, and he who strikes the first -blow will have the advantage. If I go into the fight again without the -help of England, I am no better than a man fighting with tied hands----" - -He paused, and added with vigour-- - -"We cannot do it alone. We must have England." - -It was what he had said sixteen years ago in '72, and the years had made -the need more, not less, imperative. He continued, as if he justified -himself to that still figure of his wife, with her hands before her -face. - -"I am forced to this decision. No consideration of justice, of -ambition, nay, even of diplomacy or good sense, can move His Majesty to -break off with France; his insults to the liberty of England are -incredible. He hath done all he can to thwart, cross, and hamper me. -And now is the moment when we must try conclusions." - -The Princess's white brocade shivered with her trembling. - -"I know," she murmured--"I know." - -But she was weeping, and the tears ran down through her fingers. - -The Prince was at a loss to know why she was so distressed. She had long -been involved with him in the growing rupture with her father, to whom -no affection or respect bound her, but the mere name of duty, and lately -she had been well aware that the actions of the King were driving the -Prince into open opposition. - -He looked at her, rather pale, and frowned. - -"You think of your father..." he said, ... "your father..." - -Mary, who knew that tears vexed him, endeavoured to check her sobbing; -but she could not control her voice to speak. - -"I am indeed unfortunate," added the Prince rather grimly, "that to do -what I must do I am under the necessity of the scandal of a breach in my -own family." - -She answered faintly, pressing her handkerchief to her eyes-- - -"God forgive me, I did not think of His Majesty." - -"Of what, then?" - -There was the slightest pause, and then she answered steadily, still -staring out at the dark wood-- - -"Of--ourselves. Of the great change this will make--success or -failure." - -The Prince was silent. - -"I have been," continued Mary, very low, "so happy here--in the life -most suited to me, in this dear country, where every one is so good as -to love me a little." - -The candlelight glimmered in the little braid of pearls in her hair and -flowed in lines of light down her thick satin gown, showed, too, her -cheek colourless and glistening with tears. - -The Prince, standing close to her, with his back to the window, watched, -but neither spoke nor moved. - -"It is nigh ten years," she said, "since you went to the war ... and now -the peace will be broken again.... And I know not how I can well bear -it if you leave me." - -The Prince was still silent, and studied her dimly seen face (for her -back was to the light) with what was almost a passionate attention. - -"I am a poor creature," she added, with a kind of desperate contempt for -herself, "to think of my wretched self at such a juncture; what are my -own melancholies compared to what you must undergo? Yet, humanly -speaking, I have no courage to face this crisis ... that my father -should be guilty of such a horrible crime against Church and State, and -you bound by your duty to oppose him by force----" - -"It had to be," said the Prince sombrely. "This rupture was inevitable -from the first, though I tried to deny it to myself. But in my heart I -knew, yea, ever since '72, that England would never get herself out of -this tangle from within." - -"But it is hard," replied Mary; "even though I know the hand of God in -it----" - -She turned her eyes, tearless now, but moist and misty, on her husband, -and added simply-- - -"If you knew how happy I have been here you would understand how I dread -the mere chance of leaving it----" - -"I shall return," he answered. "It is not possible nor wishful that I -should dethrone the King; but I will get such a handle to English -affairs that they will never league with France again; and thou--thou -needest not leave The Hague for an hour." - -"There is the least of my troubles disposed of," she answered sadly. -"For you forget how your poor wife loves you, and how the thoughts of -the manifold perils, and your own rash temper that will not regard -dangers, will put me into a fright which will come between me and God -Himself." - -The tears gushed up again, but she checked them, dabbing her eyes with a -damp handkerchief, while she exclaimed on the gasp of a trembling -laugh-- - -"If I cry any more I shall be blind for a week!" - -The Prince put his hand on her shoulder. - -"'Tis a silly to spend tears for me," he said, "who will go into no more -dangers than I have ever been used to, and who only taketh the common -risk of common men----" He paused a moment, then added abruptly-- - -"Yet God He knoweth these tears of thine are all I have in the world for -my solace, and I was one of Fortune her favourites, child, to have you -to my wife." - -His hand fell from her white sleeves, and she caught it between hers so -that the rings he wore pressed into her palms. - -"Only love and pity me a little," she said, "and I can bear anything. -For surely I only live to serve you." - -A pause fell, more hushed than common silence; they stood side by side -looking out on to the wood, now sad and dark, which had surrounded all -their united lives. - -Mary was in that mood which takes refuge from the real facts in symbol. -She did not look back on her life, but on the history of the wood since -she had known it; radiant in summer, complaining in the wind, silent in -the rain, bare and bright and wonderful amid the snow, flushed with -loveliness in the spring. She thought that this pageant had ended for -her, that though the wood might bloom and change she would never see it -again after these leaves fell; she had been haunted, though not -troubled, all her life by the presentiment of an early death, and now -this feeling, which she had never imparted to any, became one with the -feeling that the wood was passing, ending for her, and that all the -thousand little joys and fears associated with the trees, the flowers, -the sunshine, and the snow, were fading and perishing to a mere memory. - -Her fingers tightened on the Prince's hand. - -"'Tis such a beautiful night," she said in a strange voice; "it maketh -me feel I must die." - -He, who all his life had lived on the verge of death, smiled to hear -these words uttered by blooming youth. - -"You," he said calmly, "have no need to think of that for many a year. -Death and you! Come, you have stared too long into the dark." - -Reluctantly she let his hand free, and latched the window with something -of a shiver, but smiled too at the same time, in a breathless way. - -"What will you do now?" she asked. - -The Prince went to the table and snuffed the candles with the shining -brass snuffers, and the flames rose up still and pointed. - -"I have sent for M. Dyckfelt and M. Fagel," he answered, and seated -himself on one of the stiff walnut chairs. His face was bloodless under -the tan of his outdoor life. The excitement that had shown when Mr. -Herbert left had utterly gone; he was composed, even sombre and -melancholy, and his thoughts were not to be guessed by his countenance. - -Mary looked at him with an almost terrified longing for him to disclose -his mind, to some way speak to her, but he seemed every second to sink -deeper into a silence that was beyond her meddling. - -She moved about the room softly, picked up her sewing from a cabinet in -the corner, and began disentangling the coloured cottons that had been -hastily flung together. - -The Prince looked round at her suddenly. - -"Have you seen Dr. Burnet of late?" he asked. - -"Yes--he came yesterday when you were out hunting." - -"Well," said William, "not a word of this to him--I would not trust him -with anything I would not say before my coachman." - -Mary smiled; she shared her husband's dislike to the officious, bustling -clergyman who considered himself so indispensable to the Protestant -cause, and who was tolerated for the real use he had been to the Prince. - -"Can you not trust my discretion?" she asked. - -He gave her a brilliant smile. - -"Why, I think you are a fair Politic, after all----" - -The usher, entering to say that the Grand Pensionary and M. Dyckfelt -were without, interrupted him, and the Princess, pale and grave again, -said hastily-- - -"I will go--but I shall be in the withdrawing-room when they have -gone----" - -She waited till William had dismissed the usher, then added, in a -tremble-- - -"--You will let me know what you have decided? I could not sleep else," -she added piteously. - -He held out his hand and drew her up to him. - -"Child," he said earnestly, "'tis already decided; 'tis only the means -to be discussed--and those thou shalt hear at once." - -He patted her hand and let her go. With a kind of wild gaiety she -caught up her sewing silks. She was laughing, but it was a laughter -more desperate than her gravity. She did not look at the Prince again, -but hurried from the room, a gleam of satins in the sombre setting. - -The Prince looked after her, then picked up the two letters from -England. - - - - - CHAPTER VIII - - THE POLICY OF THE PRINCE - - -Gaspard Fagel, Grand Pensionary of Holland, and M. Dyckfelt, entered the -little room where the Prince awaited them. They were both statesmen who -had been trained under the last Grand Pensionary, John de Witt, whose -Parliamentary Republic had kept the Prince twenty years out of his -hereditary offices, and both retained something of the simplicity and -sternness of their early life, especially M. Dyckfelt, who wore the -plain falling band of the Republican era and a suit old-fashioned in -primness and sombre colour. - -He was a cleverer man than M. Fagel, who was utterly and entirely under -the dominion of the Stadtholder, and saw too clearly with his master's -eyes even to have an opinion of his own. His manner to the Prince was -the more humble, but both addressed him with that deep respect which -does not preclude perfect openness. - -William looked at them both sharply, then down at the letters in his -hand. - -"I have received the invitation from England for which I have been -waiting," he said. - - M. Dyckfelt bowed, and M. Fagel answered-- - -"May I congratulate Your Highness----" - -"Not yet," interrupted William. "Listen first to these letters--they -ask almost the impossible." - -He made a little gesture to the straight chairs the other side of the -table, and the two seated themselves. M. Dyckfelt had flushed with -eagerness and excitement, M. Fagel looked tired and ill. They were both -considerably older than the Prince, both men of a fine type with honest, -shrewd faces. - -William drew his chair nearer the table and held the letters under the -glow of the flame of the tall wax candles. - -"These," he said, looking down at the flowing English writing, "were -brought me by Mr. Herbert, whom I suppose you met, M. Dyckfelt, in -England, and are written by Mr. Sidney." - -He paused with a little cough; neither of the other two men spoke. - -"In the preamble," continued William, "they say that they are pleased to -learn from M. Zuylestein that I will be of assistance to them, but they -fear the difficulties; and though every one is so dissatisfied with the -King his government it would not be safe to speak to them -beforehand--and though they might venture themselves on my landing they -will do nothing now." He smiled unpleasantly, and added, "In brief, -they are on the winning side, and I must go with strength enough to -defend myself until they can be gotten into some order. For the army, -they say the discontent is such that the King could not count on them, -and for the navy, they believe not one in ten would do him any service -in such a cause." - -"Mine own observations confirm this advice," said M. Dyckfelt, with his -eyes fixed on the Prince. "And M. Zuylestein hath writ the same." - -William made no comment on that. - -"Now," he said, "we come to the gist of the business, which is, that -these gentlemen fear affairs will be worse next year, both by the -officering of the army with Irish Catholics, the calling of a packed -Parliament to pass the repeal of the Test Act, and the employment of -violent means against the remaining liberties of the Protestants." - -He raised his brilliant eyes to the two intent faces opposite. - -"Therefore they wish me to undertake this expedition this year." - -A soft exclamation broke from Gaspard Fagel. - -"Can it be done?" - -"If it must be done it can be done," said the Prince firmly; "and I -think it is 'nunc aut nunquam,' M. Fagel." - - M. Dyckfelt gave a movement of irrepressible excitement. - -"Do they not recognise the difficulties of Your Highness?" - -William looked again at the letter. - -"These are their words, Mynheer: 'If the circumstances stand so with -Your Highness, that you believe you can get here time enough, in a -condition to give assistance this year sufficient for a relief under -these circumstances which have been so represented, we who subscribe -this will not fail to attend Your Highness upon your landing, and to do -all that lies in our power to prepare others to be in as much readiness -as such an action is capable of, where there is so much danger in -communicating an affair of such a nature, till it be near the time of -its being made public.' Then follow their difficulties: 'We know not -what alarm your preparations for this expedition may give, or what -notice it will be necessary for you to give the States beforehand, by -either of which means their intelligence or suspicions here may be such -as may cause us to be secured before your landing----'" - -William laid the paper down. - -"That is their main trouble--they doubt whether I can be so secret as -not to cause them and all like to support me to be clapt up before I -sail--and wish to know my opinion on it--further, they mislike my -compliment to the King on the birth of the Prince of Wales, which hath, -they say, done me injury among the Protestants, of whom not one in a -thousand believeth the child to be the Queen's--and for the rest--dare -I, will I, adventure on the attempt?" - -He drew a deep breath as he finished this speech, and fixed his eyes on -the dark, uncurtained square of the window as if he pictured something -in his mind too vast, too confined, for the narrow room, and must -imagine it filling the silent night without. - - M. Fagel spoke, very low. - -"Your Highness doth not hesitate?" - -"I cannot," answered the Prince simply; "for it is the only way to gain -England from France." - -In those plain words lay the whole policy of his life--to gain England -from France, to weigh the balance of Europe against Louis by throwing -into the scale against him a nation so powerful, so wealthy, and -anciently so glorious as England; for ten years he had been at the -hopeless task of gaining England through her King, now he was going to -ignore the King and go straight to the people; but confident as he was -in his destiny, the difficulties of the project seemed overwhelming. - -He turned again to the letter. - -"This is signed by seven great lords," he said, "but I do not know that -they are any of them great Politics--Mr. Russell and Mr. Sidney are the -most knowing in affairs, and the last sendeth me words of no great -encouragement----" - -He picked up the other letter. - -"There is advice here that I should take M. de Schomberg for the second -in command, for he is beloved in England." - -"Hath he not been too long in the service of France?" asked M. Fagel. - -"Yet he resigned all his posts when the Edict of Nantes was revoked," -said M. Dyckfelt. "And being so staunch a Protestant, and so famous a -captain, it would be well if Your Highness could borrow him, as Mr. -Sidney saith." - -"He is very knowing in his profession," said William, without -enthusiasm; "but I doubt he will be too dear--apart from his age, and, -God forgive me, I do not relish a lieutenant of eighty." - -He leant forward with one arm resting on the dark table. Behind him was -the shadowed mantelshelf and the dark picture of a storm that occupied -the whole width of the chimney shaft, obscured in gloom and touched only -vaguely now and then with passing glimmers of candlelight. The Prince's -face, which wore an extraordinary expression of concentration and -resolve, was thrown out clearly against this darkness, for the lights -stood directly before him, and the two men watching him, almost with -suspended breath, were (though so familiar with his features) powerfully -impressed by this intent look of unconscious strength in the mobile -mouth and glowing eyes. - -There was the same spirit of enthusiastic energy in his words, though -his utterance was laboured and his voice husky from so much speaking. - -"Those are the difficulties of the English," he said. "Mine, you -know,"--he brought his fine hand down lightly on the table,--"after all -they are--as always--summed up in one word--France." - -The manner in which he stressed that name was almost startling in its -bitterness, hatred, and challenge. - -"Is it possible," asked M. Fagel, who was always at first afraid of the -daring schemes of the Prince, "for you to deceive the French?" - -"M. D'Avaux is a clever man," answered William grimly, "but Albeville -and Sunderland will lull King James, and even I think M. Barillon. My -Lord Sunderland," he added, with some admiration, "is the finest, most -bewitching knave I have ever met----" - -"Then," said M. Dyckfelt, "there are a many at the Court whose interest -it is to keep the King deceived--namely, those nobles whose letters of -service I brought to Your Highness--and from what I observed of His -Majesty he was so infatuate with his own conceptions of affairs as to -give scant hearing to good advice." - -"That may be," answered M. Fagel. "But will France be so easily -beguiled? M. D'Avaux at The Hague itself must suspect." - -"He doth already," said William, in a kind of flashing shortness; "but -he cannot prove his suspicions." - -"Your Highness," asked M. Fagel, still anxious, "must take an army and a -fleet with you----" - -"You do not think," answered the Stadtholder, "that I would go with a -handful of adventurers, like my poor Lord Monmouth?" - -"Then," urged the Grand Pensionary, "what is to become of the States -with all their defences beyond the seas and you absent?" - -An expression of pain crossed William's face. - -"It must be risked," he said, in his hoarse, tired voice. "Do you not -suppose I have counted these risks?" he added half fiercely. - - M. Fagel looked at him straightly. - -"Will the States permit Your Highness to take these risks?" he asked. - -"I must hope to God that the States will trust me as they have done -before," answered William, with dignity. - -"Your Highness must lay down new ships, raise new companies, and under -what pretence?" - -"It can be done," said William. "Have not Algerine corsairs shown -themselves in the North Sea? There is one excuse." - - M. Dyckfelt spoke now. - -"I see other difficulties. I do not think that Your Highness need fear -the loyalty of the States, but what of your Romanist allies, the Pope -himself?" - -"The Pope," said William calmly, "is on the verge of war with Louis over -the Cologne affair, and as long as I stand against France I am assured -of his secret support--and as for England, I have it from a sure hand -that His Holiness was so offended by the sending of Lord Castlemaine as -envoy that all King James his compliments to his nuncio have had no -effect." - -He could not forbear a smile, for in truth the sending of a man who owed -his very title to an infamous wife to the court of the saintly Pontiff -was one of those almost incredible blunders it is difficult to believe -even of a stupid man. - -"I have good hopes from that incident," continued the Prince. "The King -who made that mistake may make others." - -"Ah! Highness," said M. Dyckfelt, "the mistakes of King James will not -help you so much as your own wisdom." - -William glanced at the speaker. In the faith and trust of such lay his -surest strength. These men, incorruptible, clever, industrious, -devoted, and patriotic, such as the two now facing him, were the bulwark -of the position he had held fifteen years, the instruments of all his -projects. These thoughts so moved in his mind that he was constrained -to speak warmly. - -"Mynheer, neither on my own understanding nor on the mistakes of my -enemies do I rely, but on the services of such as you and M. Fagel." - -Praise was rare from the Prince they served, and at the sound of it the -two grave diplomats coloured. - - M. Dyckfelt answered. - -"Where should Your Highness find perfect loyalty if not in us?" - -"God be thanked," said William, with a contained passion, "I have no -cause to doubt my own people. But here," he added frankly, "we have to -deal with foreigners, and those a nation of all others light and -changeable in politics, arrogant and wilful. At present every noble out -of office for not attending Mass, and every officer removed to give -place to an Irish Papist, is for me; every courtier who thinketh the -King insecure is my very good friend, and every country gentleman -deprived of his vote raileth against King James--it will take some -diplomacy, gentlemen, to combine these into a firm support for my -design, and at the same time to conciliate the Catholics." - -"There is a great body of fanatics very eager to call Your Highness -their champion," said M. Dyckfelt. - -"The Hague is full of them," replied the Prince; "but as each man -spendeth all his energies in advancing his own grievances and his own -schemes there is not much use in them. Methinks the Tories are a surer -strength, but they love me not--only use me to save their liberties. -The Whigs shout for me, but know me not----" - -"They are a corrupt and shallow people," said M. Fagel. - -M. Dyckfelt, who had spent several months in England marshalling the -discontented factions, and putting them under the leadership of the -Prince, answered this statement of the Grand Pensionary. - -"There are many able, knowing, and patriotic men among them, though, -being out of office, they are not so commonly heard of as the knaves who -make the ministry." - -William spoke with some impatience. - -"Heaven help me, I would never trust an Englishman, unless it were Mr. -Sidney; for when they are honest they are lazy, as Lord Halifax and Sir -William Temple, and too indifferent to business to be stirred; and when -they are dishonest, which I ever found the great majority, they are the -most shameless creatures in the world." - -"Yet in the present instant Your Highness must trust them." - -William smiled grimly. - -"Their heads are on their secrecy this time, Mynheer. Besides, I think -these men are spirited enough if I can use them before their indignation -cools." - -There was a second's pause of silence, then M. Fagel spoke. - -"Your Highness will require a vast deal of money." - -"Yes," said the Prince dryly; "but I believe that it can be raised.' - -"In England?" inquired M. Dyckfelt. - -"--and among the French refugees here--and from my own fortune, Mynheer, -which hath ever exceeded my wants--also, Mynheer, I hope the States will -help." - -"How great a sum would it be, Highness?" - -William, who had the whole project already clear in his head, and had -made careful calculations as to the cost, answered at once. - -"About three hundred thousand pounds." - -M. Fagel was silent. His secret thought was, that to raise this money, -overcome all opposition, and complete every preparation by the autumn -was impossible. - -The Prince was quick to divine his doubt. - -"You think I cannot do it?" he asked, with that breathlessness that was -a sign of his rare excitement. - -"No, Highness. I think of France." - -"France!" cried William. "I think of France also." - -"If they should attack us while you were absent--or even before you were -ready----" - -William lifted his hand gravely and let it fall lightly on the smooth -surface of the table. - -"Ah, _if_--M. Fagel," he said solemnly; "but that is in God His keeping, -where all our destinies be--and we can but fulfil them." - -He smiled a little as if he thought of other things, and his bright gaze -again sought the window, but instantly he recalled himself. - -"I need detain you no more to-night--I shall need to see the States -separately and the Amsterdamers--everything must be put in train -immediately." - -All three rose. The two older men were much moved; before the mind of -each were pictures of ten years ago when with the same deliberate -courage and heroic fatalism the Prince had pitted himself against France -and been forced by the treachery of Charles Stewart into the peace of -Nymwegen. - -Ten years ago, and ever since William had been working for and planning -a renewal of the war he had then been forced to conclude; now it seemed -that he had accomplished his desire, and that his re-entry into the -combat would be in a manner to take the breath of Europe. - -Grave men as these two were, and well used to the spectacle of high -policies, they felt that extraordinary thrill which shakes those about -to watch the curtain draw up on tremendous events. - -They knew that in that quiet little room actions were being resolved and -put in train that would stir every court in Europe and make all the pomp -of Versailles show hollow if successful; and looking on the Prince, they -could not think of failure. - -When they had taken their leave, William locked the two letters in a -Chinese escritoire. Mr. Sidney had requested that they, being in his -known hand, might be destroyed, but the Prince considered his desk as -safe as the fire, and was always loath to burn papers of importance. - -In that same inner drawer where these letters now lay were offers of -services from many famous English names, and that correspondence with -Henry Sidney which had prepared the way for the invitation received -to-night; also all the letters from King James written since the -marriage of Mary, which the Prince had carefully kept. - -As he turned the little gold key in the smooth lock he thought of his -father-in-law and of the personal aspect of his undertaking. Though he -would very willingly have avoided the odium and scandal that he must -incur by a break with so near a relation, he had no feelings of -affection or even respect for King James. They were antagonistic in -religion, character, aims, and policy. James had opposed the Prince's -marriage, and ever since he had come to power opposed his every wish and -desire. The withdrawal of Sidney from The Hague, the sending of Skelton -in his stead, the attempt to recall and place at the disposal of France -the English troops in the service of the State, his refusal to interfere -with Louis' insulting seizure of Orange, his constant spyings in the -household of the Princess, his endeavour to convert her to his own -faith, had been all so many widenings of a breach that had never been -completely closed; and, on the other hand, the Prince knew that the King -had never forgiven him three things--the League of Augsburg (which -confederacy of the German Princes against France was known to be his -work, though his name did not appear in it), the refusal really his, -though nominally the State's, to return the English troops or to put -Skelton at the head of them, and his refusal to countenance the -Declaration of Indulgence, even when accompanied by the tempting bribe -of alliance against France. - -They were, and always had been, natural enemies, despite the accident of -the double tie of blood and marriage, and even the conventional -compliments of their rank had long since been worn thin between them. -William was indebted to his uncle for nothing. James did not even give -his eldest daughter an allowance, while his youngest received a princely -income; but the Prince, faithful to his unchanging policy, would have -passed all this, would James have but done what Charles had always been -pressed to do by his nephew, namely, join the States in an alliance -against France. The Prince had, indeed, with this end in view, -endeavoured to please the King on his first accession, and would have -worked with him loyally as an ally. - -But for the last year he had seen clearly, and with mingled wrath and -pity, that James was bent on the old dishonest policy of packed -parliaments, French money, and corrupt ministers, added to which was an -intolerant, almost insane, bigotry which, discountenanced by the Pope -himself and displeasing to all moderate Catholics, was an impossible -scheme of government, and in William's eyes, all religious -considerations apart, the act of a madman or a fool. - -And it did not suit his statecraft to have either on the throne of -England. He had waited a long time for this country, which he had seen -from boyhood was essential to his schemes for the balance of power and -the liberty of Europe, and now was his moment. - -As he walked up and down the plain little room he vowed that the -difficulties should be conquered, and that even if the Bourbon lilies -were flying over Brussels he would lead an armament to England that -year. - - - - - CHAPTER IX - - FRANCE MOVES - - -Midway through September and a beautiful day of pure gold the Prince was -riding home through the brown-leaved woods that surrounded his villa. -Contrary to his custom, he rode slowly, and constantly checked his fine -animal, for he was thinking deeply, and those moments when he rode to -and from his house were almost the only time when he was alone and not -under the necessity of speaking to some one. He had just come from the -last of the private sittings of the States, which had given their formal -assent to the gigantic enterprise he meditated. He had now no further -difficulty with his own country. The merchants, exasperated by the -refusal of King Louis to allow herrings and woven goods from Holland -into his country, had stifled opposition to the Prince in Amsterdam. He -had always been sure of the rest of the Provinces, who, after the late -persecutions of Protestants in France, the refusal to allow the Dutch in -that country to retire to Holland, the constant fears they had been -under since King James commenced rebuilding his navy and King Louis -commenced his aggressions in Cologne, looked to the Prince with that -same passionate devotion as they had done in '72, and trusted to him to -save them again from dangers little less pressing; for, the last year -past, Gaspard Fagel had been encouraging this dread of an armed alliance -between France and England which seemed so near consummation and would -be fatal to the very existence of the United Provinces. - -It was from abroad came the difficulties that, for the last six months, -had made the Prince's days almost unbearably anxious; and as the time -drew near that anxiety became a lively torture absolutely unguessed at -by those who judged the Prince by his calm, almost cold quiet. -Certainly the Spartan boy with the ferret under his cloak showed no more -heroic fortitude than did the Stadtholder during these weeks of -preparation. Of those who surrounded him perhaps only two, his friend -William Bentinck and Gaspard Fagel, understood his position, and even -these could not share his sufferings, however much they might his -disquietude. - -From the allies whom, during the last two years, he had been marshalling -into a league against Louis, there was little to fear, though it -required delicate handling not to offend Catholic potentates such as the -Pope and the Emperor; but from France was fearful and pressing danger, -and England, where eventually success or failure must lie, was a -suspicious quantity to William, who had been tricked and dealt ill with -(though never deceived) by English politics all his life. - -If the certain news of his expedition reached James and that monarch -clapt up the Protestant lords and united with Louis in an attack on the -United Provinces, William would have to face another '72 over again, and -with but little better chance of success than he had then; if Louis made -an attack on the frontiers of Brabant or the Spanish Lowlands before the -Prince sailed the States would refuse to allow his departure, and the -moment in England would be lost, perhaps for ever; if, most terrible -alternative of all, he took all the forces of his country, naval and -military, to England, and there met with opposition, delays, even -defeat--if James roused and the English bulk were faithful to him and -Louis seized the opportunity to pour his troops into defenceless Holland -while her ships and men were absent--then the Prince, who loved his -country with a deep and intense passion, would have to accuse himself as -the author of her ruin. - -Certainly he was jeopardizing the utmost any man could--the dearest -thing in the world to him, beside which his own life was not even taken -into consideration--and yet the only other course was to risk this same -beloved liberty of his country, not by violent means, but by inaction -and gradual weakening before a stronger power, and this was against all -the teaching of his race, all the experience of his life, his own -imperious temper, and the settled conviction both of his soul and his -intelligence of what was the best, not alone for Holland but for Europe. - -As he approached the 'huis ten bosch' he brought his reluctant horse to -a slow walk. M. D'Avaux had done what the Prince had long expected, -requested a private, informal audience, and William had told him that he -should be walking in the garden at the back of his house that afternoon. -As the time for this interview approached the Prince felt a weariness -unutterable at the thought of meeting his enemy; he knew very well what -M. D'Avaux had to say and what his own answers would be, and a smooth -passage at arms with the French Ambassador was the last thing suited to -his present temper. - -Day after day he had to listen to, arbitrate among, encourage, check, -guide, and advise the impetuous, arrogant English gathered at The Hague, -and lately joined by men of importance such as my Lord Shrewsbury and my -Lord Manchester, and this, to one of his reserve, was perhaps the most -distasteful side of his task; it left him no leisure even for his one -diversion of hunting, since it filled all the little time left from -business, and begat in him a fatigue that longed for the relaxation of -the unending strain. - -He had an almost feverish love of exercise and fresh air, and as he came -within sight of the plain front of his house showing at the end of an -avenue of magnificent trees he stayed his horse altogether and sat still -in the saddle looking about him; three things that he loved dearly, -clear sunshine, pure salt air, and intense quiet beguiled him into -forgetting for a few seconds his deep anxieties. - -The atmosphere had that peculiar mellow quality of soft light found only -in the Low Countries; the trees were motionless, and their leaves hung -clear cut from the graceful branches in burning hues of crimson, gold, -and brown; wreaths and twists of fallen leaves lay in the damp cold -grass, and fine brittle twigs scattered over the hard paths where the -frost had made little glittering ridges; the sky was blue, but blue -hazed in gold; a large piece of water reflected the polished trunks of -beeches patched with moss, the twisting red roots of brambles, and the -foxy colour of broken ferns; two swans moved slowly along this lake, and -the water was in sluggish ripples against their dead white breasts; -their feet seemed to stir with difficulty, and they left a clear track -behind, which showed that a thin breath of frost had passed over the -water, dulling the surface. - -The man on the horse noticed this, and it brought him back to what was -ever rolling in his thoughts. If this sign of an early and severe -winter was made good, he would have the less to fear for the United -Provinces, since they were almost impossible to invade in the depth of -snow and ice. This was one reason in his choosing this season for his -expedition. As he watched the two silent swans and the film of frost -they displaced, his whole face changed with the intensity of his -thought; he straightened in the saddle and clutched the reins tightly in -his thickly gloved hands; before the frosts had ceased and the waters -were running free in spring he would deal with France on equal terms or -be dead in the endeavour. - -Heated by the wave of inner exaltation that shook him he lightly touched -his great grey horse and took the avenue at a gallop, drew rein at the -villa steps, and blew a little whistle he carried. When the groom came -he dismounted, and entering the private garden by the door in the wall -to the right of the house walked slowly to the covered alley where he -had promised to meet M. D'Avaux. - -The garden had the same stillness as the wood; the late chilled roses -hung motionless on their stems, the curious agave plants and Italian -laurels were stiff against the wall, a deep border of St. Michael's -daisies showed a hard colour of purple about the three steps of the -sundial and the flat basin where the fat carp shook golden gleams under -the curling withering water-lily leaves. - -As the Prince turned into the walk at the end of the garden, shaded -overhead with ilex trees and edged with a glossy border of box, he saw -the Frenchman pacing the sunless path. - -William touched his hat and the Ambassador bowed. The Prince's sharp -glance detected that he was something out of countenance. - -"I wonder, M. D'Avaux, what you can have to say to me." - -"Yet Your Highness is well able to guess," de Avaux answered, with the -air of a compliment. - -William looked at him again; he detested all Frenchmen, and since the -day when, a grave child of eleven and a state prisoner, he had sat -sternly in his coach in the Voorhout, and refused to yield precedence to -M. D'Estrees, he had especially hated the French envoys to the States, -who had always been, in the truest sense, his enemies; the only thing -that softened him to M. D'Avaux was that diplomat's cleverness. The -Prince, who loved a worthy antagonist, admired him for his real wit and -skill in the long and bitter game that had been played between them; -nevertheless, there was, in the full bright glance he cast on him, a -quality that his antagonist did not mistake. - -"I fear," added the Ambassador, "that I do not find Your Highness very -well disposed towards me." - -"This is matter of business, is it not, Monsieur?" answered the Prince. -"When you have opened your subject I will discover my disposition to -it." - -They were walking up and down the long walk; the thick gold sunshine -slipped through the ilex branches and flickered on the Frenchman's black -satins and the Prince's heavy fur-edged cloak. M. D'Avaux held his hat -in his hand, but the Prince still wore his brown beaver. - -"I am very sorry," said the Frenchman, in his quiet, pleasant manner, -but with obvious indication of the concern he was under, "that I have -had so few opportunities of assuring you in what esteem my master -holdeth Your Highness----" - -William made no reply. - -"These are no idle words," continued M. D'Avaux, fingering the black -curls of his peruke on his breast. "Despite all unfortunate -differences, His Majesty hath, as all Europe, a great admiration for the -courage, wisdom, and address of Your Highness----" - -"Is it not rather late for these compliments, M. D'Avaux?" - -"There is an object in them, Monseigneur," answered the Ambassador; "for -in consequence of the feeling of His Majesty to Your Highness I am -speaking to you now instead of to the States." - -"Ah," said William. He switched at the box hedge with his short -riding-whip. "Do you not, Monsieur, consider myself and the States as -one?" - -"History, Monseigneur, showeth that the House of Orange and the United -Provinces have not always been of the same sentiments and design." - -"They are so, however, now, Monsieur," answered the Prince dryly; "and -whatever your business, you may put it before myself or the States, -whichever you choose." - -M. D'Avaux bit his lip; he read in William's curt words a reminder that -he was absolute with the States and more confident than ever of his -power over them; he was nettled into a colder tone. - -"Yet I think that Your Highness would rather hear me than let me take my -message to Their High Mightinesses." - -William coughed. His cloak was fur-lined, but he constantly shivered; -the shade, even of a September day, was hateful to him. - -"Come into the sun," he said, and turned out of the alley into the -clear-lit garden. They walked slowly towards the sundial and the carp -basin, M. D'Avaux prodding the hard gravel with his cane and the Prince -with his switch under his arm. - -"Well, your business," said William calmly. - -"Monseigneur," replied M. D'Avaux, with sincerity and some earnestness, -"I think that you are embarked on a dangerous enterprise." - -"The French say so," answered the Prince. "I have been told of the most -extraordinary reports in your gazettes and pamphlets." - -"I do not obtain my information from gazettes and pamphlets, Your -Highness," answered the Ambassador firmly, "but from more reliable -sources." - -William paused by the carp pond and the bed of violet daisies. - -"What is your information?" he asked. - -"The last which Your Highness would wish in the hands of France." - -"You seem to think, Monsieur," said William, with the shadow of a smile, -"that I am an enemy of His Majesty." - -He was not looking at the Frenchman, but down at the bed of daisies that -he stirred gently with his whip as he spoke. M. D'Avaux looked sharply -at his haughty aquiline profile, and answered with a quickening of the -breath-- - -"His Majesty cannot forget what you said at your table a year ago, -Monseigneur. You said, Your Highness, when you heard that His Majesty -had seized and dismantled Orange on the claim of the House of -Longueville, that you would teach him what it was to insult a Prince of -Orange, and you refused to retract or explain the words." - -"His Majesty," replied William, "hath neither retracted nor explained -the deed." - -"Your Highness has often repeated those words." - -The Prince lifted his brilliant eyes. - -"I shall repeat them again, Monsieur," he said, in his strained low -voice, "and again until I obtain satisfaction." - -He saw that M. D'Avaux had made the allusion to humiliate him, and -though there was no sign of it in his countenance the shaft had told, -for the insulting seizure of his personal princely apanage, for which he -had been powerless to avenge himself, had been the hardest to bear of -all the insolences of France, and the revenues had been a real loss. - -"You see," bowed M. D'Avaux, "that we have some reason to believe Your -Highness the enemy of France." - -The Prince continued to look at him steadily. - -"His Christian Majesty is very interested in my affairs," he said. - -"It is the affairs of King James," returned the Frenchman, with some -grandeur, "that my master is interested in----" - -"How doth that touch the States?" - -"It toucheth Your Highness, for we believe that you make preparations to -lead an armament against His Britannic Majesty." - -William lowered his eyes almost disdainfully. - -"I perceive," he said, "that you do get your information from the -gazettes after all----" - -"No," answered M. D'Avaux softly. "I will tell Your Highness where I -get my information. You know of one Verace, of Geneva?" - -The Prince's whip still stirred leisurely among the daisies. - -"He was steward once to the Princess and dismissed." - -"As early as August, Monseigneur, this Verace wrote to M. Skelton giving -information of the intrigues of Your Highness, the Princess, and M. -Bentinck." - -He watched the effect of his shaft, but the Prince was unmoved. - -"You might as well quote the gazettes, Monsieur," he said. - -"These letters, Your Highness, were sent by M. Skelton to my Lord -Sunderland," replied M. D'Avaux, "and he took no heed of them--we have -reason to believe that they never reached the King." - -William answered dryly-- - -"None of this is very interesting, Monsieur. You have had the -assurances of M. Van Citters in London, of M. Castagnana, King James -himself is content, M. D'Albeville is content, and it is not for France -to take this part of interfering on the information of cast-off -servants." - -"I have had other news from Rome," said M. D'Avaux coldly, "of the -intrigues of Your Highness with the Vatican. Your Highness, methinks, -knoweth something of some letters which went in to the Pope in a basket -of wax fruit." - -William gave him a quick glance. - -"Take these advices to the court of England, which they concern, -Monsieur." - -"Your Highness is very well aware that all the foreign intelligence that -goeth to England is under the control of M. de Sunderland--who is your -very good friend." - -The Prince faintly smiled. - -"I thought M. de Sunderland was believed the very good friend of -France." - -"He may," said M. D'Avaux, rather hotly, "deceive M. Barillon, but he -doth not deceive me." - -"It is unfortunate," remarked the Prince, "that you are not Ambassador -to London. I think your abilities wasted here, Monsieur." - -"I thank Your Highness." He bowed grandly. "Such as my talents are, I -find scope for them at The Hague--I only regret that my confrere is no -longer M. Skelton." - -He said this knowing that Mr. Skelton was detested by the Prince, who -had made his residence in Holland unendurable to him. The dislike was -returned by the Englishman, who was the close ally of M. D'Avaux in the -attempt to expose and ruin the plans of William. William, however, had -triumphed in ousting Skelton from The Hague, and his successor, -D'Albeville, was, as M. D'Avaux knew to his vexation, a mean creature -that no one could long depend on. - -"Mr. Skelton," said the Prince, "is no doubt extremely useful in Paris. -And I must ask you, Monsieur, to let me know the true object of this -audience, which was not, I think, to discuss these puerile rumours." - -The Frenchman flushed; he had always found the Prince difficult to come -to conclusions with. William had a short, flashing way of scorn, an -inscrutable calm, that even now, when, in his certain knowledge of the -Prince's intended enterprise, M. D'Avaux felt he had the upper hand, was -difficult to face. - -M. D'Avaux felt himself, as always, confused and heated; he believed -that the Prince was laughing at him and at France, and a wave of anger -shook him both against the supine James who would not be roused, and his -own government who would not credit half the information he sent home. -He tried that dry directness which his opponent employed with such -effect. - -"Your Highness will scarcely deny that you intend a descent on England?" - -"I should," answered William, "be a fool if I did not deny it when asked -by you, Monsieur." - -M. D'Avaux thrust his cane into the crevices of the stone pedestal of -the sundial. - -"Whatever Your Highness may say--I know." - -"Ah!" answered William, "but can you prove?" - -"To the satisfaction of my own intelligence, Monseigneur," said M. -D'Avaux vigorously. "You cannot suppose that I have been unobservant as -to your measures since the beginning of the year." - -William kept his eyes fixed on the carp sluggishly moving round the -fountain basin. - -"It would interest me, M. D'Avaux," he said, "to hear what you have -discovered of these measures of mine." - -"You shall hear, Monseigneur." The Frenchman spoke as one spurred and -goaded. "For one thing, I know that you obtained four million guilden -from the States for repairing the fortifications of Brabant--that this -money was to be payable in four years, and you have raised it in one. -Your Highness hath the money, and the forts are untouched." - -William was silent. - -"Another public fund of equal value you have diverted from its proper -use; you have farmed out the revenues of the Admiralty, and this, with -your own great fortune, maketh Your Highness master of a huge -treasure--apart from the money you are constantly raising among the -French and English refugees. For what purpose is all this wealth -intended?" - -"You say you know," replied William, without looking up. "And, my faith, -what kind of an answer can you expect from me?" - -"Your Highness can give no good reason." - -"None of any sort, to you, on any part of my conduct," said the Prince -coldly. "You already overstep your province." - -Pale, but firm, M. D'Avaux stood his ground. - -"I do not overstep my duty to my master if I ask why Your Highness -persuaded the States to build forty new ships of war, and secretly added -twelve by your own authority--why these ships were sent publicly to -remote stations and secretly brought back--why a great army is encamped -at Nymwegen--why M. Bentinck is so continually closeted with the Elector -and Your Highness with the States, the German Princes, the Landgrave of -Hesse and M. Castagnana--why seven thousand Swedish mercenaries have -been hired, and a huge number of Dutch soldiers and sailors secretly -raised and privately drilled?" - -The Prince turned his back to the sundial, so that he faced the -Ambassador; his hands, clasped behind him, held his riding-whip; his -face was inscrutable. - -"Well, what else?" he asked dryly. - -"Only this, that Your Highness and your creatures may deceive the King -of England into thinking it is against Denmark and the Corsairs that all -these preparations are being made, but you cannot so deceive the King of -France." - -"And yet," returned the Prince, "I thought His Majesty gave but a cold -attention to your alarms." - -This, accompanied by a pointed smile, told M. D'Avaux that William was -quite well aware that it had not been so easy to rouse Louis to a sense -of his danger. The Frenchman bit his lip; he had a master-stroke in -reserve. - -"Your Highness is a very able Prince," he said, on an oblique line of -attack, "but my master pays well and is well served. I know who, under -so many different names and pretences, purchaseth and hireth transport -boats in so many different ports; I know who ordereth the bakers of -Amsterdam to make biscuit, the saddlers to make bridles and saddles--why -all the artillery is leaving the towns and coming down to the -coasts--why magazines of hay are waiting in all the seaports, and why -English noblemen are living furtively at The Hague." - -He paused and looked narrowly at the Stadtholder, who, he was confident, -must be taken aback at this knowledge of his plans; but the Prince was -so immovable that the wild thought occurred to M. D'Avaux--is it really -Denmark or his own country, as King James contends? - -"I cannot conceive why you come to me with this," said William. - -"To warn you, Monseigneur." - -"Of what?" flashed the Prince. - -"Of France," answered M. D'Avaux impressively. - -William drew a deep breath. - -"You should know better than to seek to frighten me, M. D'Avaux. I am -not by nature timorous." - -"I warn Your Highness," repeated the Ambassador. "I remind you that you -are not a sovereign Prince." - -"I rule a sovereign state, Monsieur." - -"The first magistrate of a republic, Monseigneur, cannot behave as a -king. Since Your Highness will give me no satisfaction, I shall go to -the States." - -"You will do as you wish," answered William; "but you are, nevertheless, -perfectly well aware that I rule the States." - - M. D'Avaux bowed. - -"Give me credit for that discernment--the card I play is not an appeal -from Your Highness to the States----" - -"What then?" - -The Frenchman moved a little farther back, still in a courtier's -attitude, with his hat in his hand, looking intently at the Prince, who -stood on the steps of the sundial with the violet daisies brushing his -cloak and boots. - -"Mr. Skelton hath prevailed on M. de Louvois to command me to say to the -States that there is such friendship between His Majesty and King James -that any attack on Britain would be regarded in the same light as an -attack on France. That," added M. D'Avaux softly, "may make the States -see their interests as different from those of Your Highness." - -William gave not the least sign of surprise or confusion. - -"So it is Mr. Skelton's advice to endeavour to frighten the States?" he -remarked. - -"I shall deliver my message to-morrow," said M. D'Avaux, "and then Your -Highness will see if the States are prepared for an attack--an instant -attack on their frontiers--if they are prepared to allow you and their -whole strength to leave a country which France is menacing. You saved -the Provinces in '72--without you they could not save themselves -now----" - -"You must follow out your instructions, Monsieur," said the Prince. - -He stepped down from the sundial and looked narrowly at the Ambassador. - -"You have nothing more to say?" he added. - -"Nothing, Monseigneur, unless Your Highness can give me the assurances I -was bid to ask----" - -"What would be the use of that, Monsieur, when you know, as you say," -returned the Stadtholder. - -M. D'Avaux was slightly baffled; he thought that the Prince must betray -more concern unless he had some counter-stroke to this of the threat to -the States. - -He answered with dignity-- - -"Then I need trouble Your Highness no further." - -"Very well," answered William. "I am sorry that you have wasted your -time, Monsieur; but I always was of a tolerably positive disposition, -and difficult to turn." - -"All Europe knoweth that," answered M. D'Avaux, with a little flush; for -the Prince's words were an obvious assertion of the fact that he would -not alter his plans for any French threats--an obvious challenge. - -They walked down the hard gravel path between the beds of late roses. -At the garden gate the Prince parted from M. D'Avaux with that -simplicity which was his natural manner, but generally credited to him -for guile. - -"I am obliged to you for this courtesy," he said. "Au revoir, -Monsieur." - -"I thank Your Highness," answered M. D'Avaux, with a grand bow. - -The Prince closed the gate on him, and went instantly into the house by -the back entrance. And so straight to his private room, where a little -company, consisting of M. Fagel, M. Bentinck, M. Dyckfelt, the envoy of -M. Castagnana, Governor of the Spanish Netherlands, the envoy of the -Elector of Hanover, a Prince of Lunenburgh, and the Landgrave of Hesse -were awaiting him. - -They all rose at his entrance. He came swiftly and breathlessly to the -table, flung off his hat, and said-- - -"Gentlemen, M. D'Avaux knoweth everything--that villain D'Albeville hath -betrayed us. There is a bomb to be dropped to-morrow that is like to -blast us all." - - - - - CHAPTER X - - THE ENGLISH AMBASSADOR - - -"M. D'Albeville?" echoed the Landgrave. - -"It can be none other, Highness," answered William, with energy. "No -one else was privy to my Lord Sunderland his part----" - - M. Fagel gave a quick exclamation. - -"He knoweth that?" - -"Yes--he scenteth it," said the Stadtholder grimly. "And he hath a -pretty idea of the preparations, only he doth not guess either their -magnitude nor their forwardness." - -He seated himself, and the others took their places again. There was, in -the whole assembly, a breathless air of expectation and excitement. The -room was full of steady mellow sunshine, which brought out every detail -of the persons of the gentlemen about the walnut table and glimmered in -the fair hair of M. de Lunenburgh, who sat facing the window. - -The Stadtholder glanced round these intent faces and took off his -gloves, unclasped his cloak, and said, in a passionate voice, directly -addressing the Grand Pensionary-- - -"M. Fagel, the design is to frighten the States, by declaring that any -design against England will at once provoke France into an attack on the -Provinces." - -M. Fagel was silent. This stroke was unexpected and tremendous. If -Louis fell on the frontiers of the States, Their High Mightinesses would -certainly not permit the Prince and the army to sail for England. - -"You know my opinion," continued William, looking at the Spaniard, "that -if M. de Castagnana can but keep Ostend, Mons, and Namur till the -spring, I shall then have settled this English business, and be able to -return with a sufficient force to drive the French out of Flanders." - -"I think," said M. Fagel, "that the States would not take the risks, and -this threat from France will have a very ill effect among the common -people." - -"And," added M. Dyckfelt, who had primary charge of English affairs, "if -M. D'Avaux and M. Skelton succeed in undeceiving King James as to the -true design of M. de Sunderland that would be a shrewd blow----" - -"One which shall not be delivered," said the Prince firmly. "M. de -Sunderland is the one man who can keep the foreign intelligence from the -King, and he stayeth in office. M. D'Albeville is a dirty tool, but -there is more use to be got out of him----" - -"But he, Your Highness, you say hath betrayed us?" questioned M. de -Hesse. - -"And now he can betray them," said William. "By Heaven, Highness, do -you think we, at this stage of our endeavours, shall trip over an insect -like this D'Albeville?" - -He finished his sentence with a smile at M. de Hesse. He was himself of -a German House, a German Prince and a Grandee of the Holy Empire, and -had alway an affection for and a powerful influence over the Landgraves, -Electors, and Princes who made up the German confederacy. - - M. de Hesse responded-- - -"We are, as ever, ready to do what Your Highness thinketh fit in this -juncture." - -"Ah!" answered William warmly. "I should do ill to fail with such -friends----" - -"Should we not," asked M. Bentinck, "consult with some of the English at -The Hague?" - -"No," said the Stadtholder firmly. "They have none of them any -conception of continental affairs, and at present are engaged in -disputing over the form of the Declaration, for they seem already to be -split into very decided parties." - -M. Fagel and M. Dyckfelt both considered it a mistake not to more fully -trust the English nobles, but both were aware that the Prince's distrust -of that nation (but too well founded on experience) was not to be -shaken. - -The German Princes and Ministers were willing enough to keep the threads -of the coalition as much as possible in their own hands, and none of -them could believe that a youth like Lord Shrewsbury and an eccentric -rake like Lord Mordaunt could be of use in serious counsels. - -The envoy of the Elector of Hanover proceeded to lay before William the -plans for the fortifications of the Rhine which the Germans had agreed -to defend with troops, replacing those withdrawn by the States, in the -same way as M. de Castagnana had engaged to fortify the frontier of -Brabant on the side of Flanders. - -William surveyed the plans and listened to the explanations, in which -the Landgrave and M. de Lunenburgh eagerly joined, with an elated -satisfaction which even the stroke about to be dealt by M. D'Avaux could -not destroy. His spirits, as ever, rose with increasing difficulties -and dangers, and after having to listen to the thousand, to him, paltry -arguments of the English party leaders, this talk of the real heart of -affairs, the hand-to-hand grips with France, had a ringing pleasure for -his ears. - -M. Fagel, withdrawn into the window embrasure, was speaking with William -Bentinck, a tall, fair, and handsome man, of a quiet dignity, a few -years older than the Stadtholder, and that Prince's closest friend, of -the probable effect of this move planned by the wit and watchfulness of -Mr. Skelton and M. D'Avaux, when an usher entered to inform His Highness -that the English Ambassador requested an immediate audience. - -William was roused at once from his maps and papers, and a movement of -excitement silenced the low, serious voices. - -"M. D'Albeville!" exclaimed the Stadtholder. His eyes flashed, and he -rose. "Conduct him here." - -As the usher left, all looked at the Prince. - -"Why should he come?" asked M. de Lunenburgh. - -William laid his hand affectionately on the German's brown velvet -sleeve. - -"My child," he said softly, "whatever he hath come for, we will turn him -to our own uses." - -At this moment the English Ambassador entered, amid an absolute silence; -he paused on the threshold and glanced at the men before him: the -Stadtholder between M. de Lunenburgh, the Landgrave and the Hanoverian -envoy at the opposite side of the dark circular walnut table; the -Spaniard, very splendid in gold brocade that caught the sun, standing -with his back to the hearth, and opposite him in the dazzling length of -the window M. Bentinck with the two Dutch ministers. - -So were gathered in this small, plain room representatives of the most -of the members of the huge coalition which the formidable Stadtholder -had laboured so long to combine against France; and M. D'Albeville, -standing for England, equally precious both to these allies and to -Louis, instinctively drew back a little, as one who has stepped among -silent enemies. - -He was a slight Irishman, and had been handsome, but dissipation, -poverty, and meanness had given him a haggard and livid appearance; he -wore gaudy, but tarnished, finery, and a huge red-brown peruke that hung -in knots of heavy curls either side his sharp face. - -"I desired a private audience, Highness," he said, speaking in perfect -French. - -"We are private here, M. le Marquis," answered William, handing the -packet of papers back to M. de Hesse. "And we are glad that you have -come, for we had business to discuss with you." - -He seated himself at that, and M. D'Albeville came to the opposite side -of the table, so directly facing him; the others remained standing. - -"You," said William, with energy, "have been trying to fool me, M. le -Marquis. You have seen fit to convey warnings to the court of England -and to M. D'Avaux." - -The look of fear that was never quite absent from the Irishman's face -deepened; he seemed to shrink into his stiff buckram and brocade -clothes. - -"So God help me----" he began. - -"Oh, enough of your oaths!" cried the Prince, in a sudden burst of fury. -"Do you think I have time to listen to your cursed excuses? How much -have you told that damned Frenchman?" - -So direct, terrible, and sincere was his passion that the object of it -retreated towards the door, and even the spectators were awed. - -"I protest," answered the Ambassador, dry-lipped, "I have told nothing. -I have sent reassuring messages to His Majesty, as Your Highness -knoweth----" - -"Were you not well enough paid for them," demanded William fiercely, -"that you must go cry your wares in the French market?" - -"Monseigneur, you are misinformed----" - -The Prince cut him short. - -"M. D'Avaux hath been told of M. de Sunderland's part--you told him. -Hath King James been warned also?" - -"I came to tell Your Highness so," stammered M. D'Albeville. "Not by me, -God knoweth; but I had this morning a message----" - -"From whom?" - -"Not from my Lord Sunderland--_direct from His Majesty_ bidding me ask -the States the reason of the preparations of Your Highness----" - -The Stadtholder glanced at his friends; he was still taut with passion. -Dealing with mean creatures such as this roused that rare fury in him -that brought him out of himself. - -"So now you are afraid, eh?" he asked. "You are not quite so sure which -is the winning side, M. le Marquis----" - -M. D'Albeville came nearer the table. Another fear conquered his fear -of the terrible Prince. - -"I cannot go on," he said feverishly. "I dare not. I can help you no -more, Monsieur. I must deliver that message, and I must tell the King -everything----" - -"You will deliver the message," interrupted William grimly; "but you -will not open the eyes of His Majesty until I bid you." - -The Irishman clutched his hand on his breast, with a contortion of -terror and despair on his face. He had been playing fast and loose -between France and Holland so long that he scarcely knew how far he had -betrayed one to the other, only that of late he had kept the greater -faith with the Prince, who terrorized him, as did all the English -envoys, except those he won by friendship, such as Temple and Sidney. - -M. D'Albeville was now convinced that, in view of the coming French -action, the Prince could not succeed, and he wished fervently that he -was before James or Louis that he might gain a good price by telling -what he knew of William's plans. He already regretted having come -before His Highness, yet he had not dared act without warning him, and -had been in some hopes of persuading him of his own faith and use. - -Disappointed in this, he groaned aloud, began a feeble sentence that -died on his lips, and cast a furtive glance for a way of escape. - -This did not fail of notice by the Prince. - -"Bentinck," he said, "look to the door." - -That nobleman stepped quietly in front of it, and the wretched -Ambassador shrilled a protest. - -"Doth Your Highness intend violence?" - -"I intend to make use of you, Monsieur!" cried the Prince. "We are men -in earnest. Do you think that we should allow you to in any way -incommode us?" - -"It will be Tower Hill for me!" cried M. D'Albeville. "I dare keep -silent no longer--if my Lord President goeth, what protection have I -got?" - -"M. de Sunderland shall not go until I have sailed from Helvoetsluys," -said William. "How much hath M. D'Avaux promised you for telling -everything to the Court of St. James?" - -M. D'Albeville shrugged, but obviously brightened as the talk changed to -money. - -"You are quite mistaken, Your Highness----" - -"How much was it?" interrupted William. - -"Naturally, if I could help M. D'Avaux--I should expect some -consideration for the trouble----" - -The Prince for a moment took his great eyes from the Irishman and -addressed a rapid sentence in Dutch to M. Dyckfelt, who at once went to -the Chinese bureau at the side of the fireplace and unlocked a drawer. - -"I must deliver the message to the States," said M. D'Albeville, between -cringing and defiance. He was really afraid of what might have happened -in England--Sunderland might be in disgrace, and the whole intrigue -discovered by James, for all he knew. - -"It is my wish that you should," answered William. "It will come very -pat with M. D'Avaux _his_ message." - -M. Dyckfelt put on the table a gold standish, a sheet of paper, and a -casket, which last the Prince kept before himself. - -"M. le Marquis," he said, "you will do me one more service--you will -write to His Majesty that his suspicions are quite unfounded, that my -preparations, you are assured, are against Denmark, and that no credit -is to be given to the tales of M. Skelton and M. D'Avaux about M. de -Sunderland." - -The Ambassador's face became absolutely blanched; he moistened his lips, -and murmured, "I dare not--I dare not," between dry breaths. - -"You dare not refuse," answered William. "I could so expose you that -not a court in Europe would employ you. Besides, it is enough that I -command you. Sit down and write." - - M. D'Albeville came slowly nearer the table. - -"I would do anything to serve Your Highness, but not this--it is too -late--it has gone too far----" - -"Write," said the Stadtholder briefly. "I pay well, you know that." - -M. D'Albeville sat down in the chair opposite the paper and standish. - -"But His Majesty will learn from others, and I shall be recalled and" -... he complained miserably ... "death ... treason is death. Oh, my -God, I cannot do----" - -"M. le Marquis," interrupted William, "His Majesty is simple enough to -trust you, and for the rest I protect those whom I use." - -M. D'Albeville shivered and took up the pen. He had, and knew it, no -chance with the Prince, whose potent personality always completely -mastered his. He dared not, from some sheer unnameable fear, refuse or -resist, but the damp stood on his brow and his heart was cramped at the -thought of the possible vengeance of the master whom he was betraying. - -"You know what to write," said William. "Put it in your own hand and -your own style--you do not, I think, use cipher----" - -Tears of terror, rage, and mortification stood in the Irishman's eyes. -He had come to excuse himself from a service that had become too -dangerous, and found himself overpowered into going still greater -lengths. He could not bring himself to write the letter which would -eventually cut him off from all hope of pardon from England. - -"He shall write," said the Prince, in a low tone, to M. de Hesse, "if I -have to hold a pistol to his head the while." - -And he came softly round behind the Ambassador's chair. - -"Gentlemen," complained M. D'Albeville, "is this a way to treat the -representative of His Britannic Majesty?" - -The Landgrave and M. de Lunenburgh closed nearer round him. - -M. D'Albeville looked up at the grave faces bent on him, and began to -write. - -"Make haste," said the Prince, drawing a round filigree watch from his -pocket and glancing at the time. - -The Ambassador groaned and drove his pen the faster; in a few moments -the sheet of paper was covered, sanded, and signed. - -"There is my ruin, Highness," said M. D'Albeville dramatically, handing -it with shaking fingers. - -"Men like you are never ruined," returned the Prince. He glanced over -the letter, ill spelt, ill expressed, but all that Sunderland would need -to quiet the fears of his master. - -The Prince folded it across, and M. D'Albeville held out his hand. - -"By your leave, M. le Marquis, I will post this." William opened the -casket M. Dyckfelt had brought from the Chinese bureau, and took out a -couple of little linen bags, which he slid along the table towards the -crumpled figure of the Ambassador; the glint of gold could be seen -between the wide meshes. "The audience is over," he added dryly. - -M. D'Albeville got to his feet and began to pick up the money and thrust -it into the huge flap pockets of his silver-branched coat, making the -while little sounds of protest, and shaking his head dismally. - -"Listen," said the Prince vigorously. "You will give your message to -the States to-morrow, and you will send no letters of any kind to -England until I request you to----" - -"I am always the servant of Your Highness," said M. D'Albeville with a -dreary submission, yet with a kind of satisfaction in the bribe that lay -heavy in his pockets; the Prince always paid better than M. D'Avaux, -kept short by M. de Louvois, who disliked him. - -"All packets leaving our ports are watched," remarked William. "So do -not try to send any secret messages to England." - -The Ambassador picked up his white-plumed hat, that had fallen to the -floor, then came towards the Prince with a humble gesture, as if he -would have kissed his hand; but William drew back with a haughty disgust -that brought a blush even to M. D'Albeville's brazen cheek. He withdrew -backwards, M. Bentinck opened the door for him, and closed it after he -had departed, bowing. - -"By Heaven!" burst out the Landgrave, "to think that a great nation -should send as representative such a rascal!" - -"His Majesty hath always been unlucky, Highness," answered William, "in -the gentlemen he sendeth to The Hague. To use such tools!" he added -impatiently; "but I think we have checkmated M. D'Avaux.--M. Fagel," he -turned swiftly to the Grand Pensionary, "you see your part? The two -messages will come the same day, and you are to protest that there must -be some secret alliance between France and England that the States have -been kept in the dark about, and that we can give no answer till that is -explained; you must feign alarm which will further inflame the people -against France and her designs, and so we may provoke King James into -repudiating the French alliance and offending His Christian Majesty." - -Having thus indicated the policy that his genius had instantly -conceived, he paused with a little cough, then laughed, which he seldom -did save when he had discomfited some one. He laughed now, thinking of -M. D'Avaux, and there was a malicious note in it that would not have -pleased that diplomat to hear. - -The German princes laughed also, in a more good-natured fashion, and the -whole company moved from their places with a sense that a final resolve -had been reached. - -"Come, gentlemen," said the Prince in his tired voice, "I think we have -earned our dinner." - -He handed to M. Fagel the letter written by M. D'Albeville. - - - - - CHAPTER XI - - THREE PAWNS - - -Three English gentlemen were walking slowly round the Vyverburg on the -side where stand the spacious courts of the Buitenhof; the ground -beneath their feet was thickly covered with dry yellow leaves, and the -trees above their heads almost bare, but the sun shone as strong as -summer on the placid surface of the water, and gleamed with a red fire -in the rows of long windows of the Government buildings; the sky was a -great luminous space of blue gold, against which the trees and houses -the other side of the lake showed with a tender clarity, like the -pictures of that great artist, Ver Meer of Delft. - -There were swans and ducks on the lake; they, like the water on which -they swam, were touched with this universal hue of gold, and seemed to -be cleaving a way through glimmering mists of sunshine. - -The three gentlemen paused by one of the posts protecting the edge of -the water; it was near evening, and under the calm was the sense of a -little rising wind, salt from the sea. Not a word was spoken between -these three who had fallen from much talk to idleness; all had the same -subject in their minds, though each coloured it with his own -temperament; all of them were remarkable-looking men, and typical of -some aspect of the great movement of which they formed a part. - -The eldest was a man still in his prime, red-haired and tanned to an -unnatural darkness, with something stern, sad, and passionate in his -face, and an abruptness in his movements; he wore the splendid -appointments of a soldier; across his shoulder was twisted a rich -oriental scarf of coloured silk and gold threads; his name was Fletcher -of Saltoun, a noble Scot, who had returned from the Turkish war to -assist in the enterprise of the Stadtholder. - -The second was a youth of singular sweetness of expression and delicacy -of feature, plainly dressed in grey; the charm of his appearance was -marred solely by a black silk patch which he wore over his left eye; he -was staring at the water with a melancholy air, and now and then sighed; -this was Charles Talbot, eleventh Earl of Shrewsbury, dismissed last -year from the army and the Lord-Lieutenancy of Staffordshire for -refusing to abjure his religion; he had mortgaged his estates for -L40,000, which was now at the Bank of Amsterdam at the service of the -Prince. He was for the moment but one of the many refugees at The -Hague. - -The third was by far the most remarkable, and bore most signs of -greatness: young, though a little older than the Earl, he was not, -perhaps, half the height, being hunch-shouldered to a deformity, and -thin and meagre in body; his face, livid and lined with disease, wore a -sparkling expression of energy, his eyes, large, noble, and ever -changing in expression with a kind of restless animation, scorn, -impatience, and dare-devilry; even now, when standing still, he thrummed -with his fingers on the railing and whistled 'Lillibulero' under his -breath. - -He was that Lord Mordaunt whose fiery, careless courage had urged this -expedition on the Prince a year ago. - -Fretting under the languor and idleness engendered by the beautiful late -afternoon and the serene fair prospect, he proceeded to lead his -companions out of the silence to which they were so obviously inclined. - -"Where will the Prince land, eh, my lord?" he asked of Shrewsbury. "In -the south-west or the north-east?" - -He knew that my lord could not know what was not yet decided, but the -question served to break the pause. - -"Why, 'tis even what they argue about," answered the Earl. "Lord -Dunblaine was with His Highness yesterday, and gave as his father's -advice that we should choose the north, because 'tis so easy to obtain -horses in Yorkshire----" - -"Or because my Lord Danby," sneered Mordaunt, "hath such a pull in that -county that he hopeth to get His Highness into his hands." - -"The Prince is very secret," said Mr. Fletcher. - -"He listeneth to all and agreeth with none," answered my Lord Mordaunt. - -"He might be more open," complained the Earl, who of the three was most -in the favour of William; but Mordaunt perhaps understood the Prince -better. - -"Dr. Burnet is to draw up the letter to the Church," remarked Mr. -Fletcher. "I ever disliked him." - -"He is translating the Prince his Declaration also," said the Earl -discontentedly. "I do hope the Prince will not be led by such an -extreme Low Churchman----" - -"M. Fagel wrote it," answered Mordaunt. "His Highness said the English -were all such party men he would not trust them to prepare it. He is -himself writing the letter to the army--you have heard? He is clever -with the pen." - -"He may," broke out Mr. Fletcher, "trust Dr. Burnet as much as he -pleaseth; but if he is to put his confidence in my Lord Danby we are as -good as lost----" - -"Better my Lord Danby than my Lord Sunderland," interrupted Shrewsbury; -"it surpriseth me that he can deal with such a knave." - -Lord Mordaunt gave an impatient pirouette. - -"Why is there all this delay--delay?" he cried, "_I_ would have sailed -months ago!" - -Mr. Fletcher roused at that. He was innocent enough in the matter of -politics to have been one of those who accompanied, with hope of -success, Lord Monmouth on his fatal expedition, and to consider the -Prince's attempt as such another enterprise. - -"You are right," he said gloomily. "The King will get wind of it, and -Dartmouth will have his ships spread all round the coast to prevent a -landing." - -"I am sick of The Hague--sick!" exclaimed Mordaunt impetuously. "If His -Highness don't leave the cursed place soon, I'll go without him!" - -Shrewsbury laughed, then Mordaunt himself good-humouredly; Mr. Fletcher -stared at the slow-sailing ducks. He did not care much what happened, -but he hated inaction, and began to regret the Turks who had provided -it. - -"You have heard that Skelton hath been recalled and lodged in the -Tower?" asked Mordaunt. - -"Yes," said Shrewsbury; "it was in the letters this morning. It might -have been expected after His Majesty's denial of a French alliance and -reprimand to M. Barillon." - -"Sure bad policy," said Mr. Fletcher, but without enthusiasm, "and a -good stroke for the Prince." - -In truth none of these gentlemen guessed what a stroke. James had -actually stepped into the trap laid for him, and, seeing how great an -advantage the appearance of an alliance between him and France gave the -States, had angrily repudiated the suggestion, and haughtily reprimanded -M. Barillon for French interference with his affairs. Sunderland, -prepared by the Prince, had urged him on to this course, and the letters -of M. D'Albeville had served to back the Lord-President's reassurances. -The Prince had been triumphant in this encounter, the States and the -people were warmer in his cause than ever after this proof, as they took -it, of a connection, between France and England, dangerous to -themselves. M. D'Avaux, since the disgrace of Skelton, was silent with -mortification, and a kind of lull hung over Europe; William was looking -with a terrible anxiety towards Flanders, where Louis had his troops -threatening the frontiers of the Spanish Lowlands, and so the United -Provinces. What would Louis do now the King of England had rejected his -warnings and refused his aid? On the answer to that question the fate -of Protestant Europe depended. - -But these three knew and cared little of these matters; their minds were -set wholly on the domestic policies of England, and occupied with a -vague ideal of liberty for their own faith and their country's laws, not -unmingled with some desire for vengeance on the party now upper-most. - -"I saw Sir James Stair to-day," said Mr. Fletcher suddenly; "he hath -come from Leyden to join the Prince. I suppose he will take to himself -the affairs of Scotland." - -"Nay," answered the Earl; "the Prince is all for William Carstares, a -poor, mean Scottish minister; but, sir, more in the Prince his -confidence than any of us----" - -"Carstares," cried Mordaunt, with flashing eyes, "hath been under -torture with secrets of M. Fagel in his keeping, and never betrayed -them. A brave man!" - -Shrewsbury shrugged his shoulders delicately. - -"I wish we sailed to-morrow," said Fletcher of Saltoun. - -The restless Mordaunt moved on, and the others sauntered beside him. - -"The boats are all creeping down to the sea laden with arms," he said -excitedly. "They lie thick as pebbles among the reeds of the islands of -the Rhine and Meure. Sirs, ye should see them." - -"I had the Prince his command to stay at The Hague," answered -Shrewsbury. "Saw you these boats?" - -"That I did, and pontoons, and transports, and the hay slung in ropes in -the ports, and the great trains of artillery..." - -They were walking towards the Gevangenpoort, the prison gate which rose -up by the side of the Vyver. The hazy sky was changing to a tawny -colour behind the dark roof lines of the houses, flushed here and there -with gold and a stain of purple; little pale, shell-coloured clouds -floated away to the uppermost heights of heaven where the clear blue was -still untouched, and the water began to glow and burn with the reflected -fires of the sky. - -The clear chimes of the Groote Kerk struck the hour, and the sound of -oncoming horsemen caused the few passers-by to pause before entering the -narrow way of the prison arch. - -A cavalcade came into sight from the direction of the Stadhuis, and -moved at a swift trot towards the Gevangenpoort--a number of gentlemen, -with two riding before the others. - -As they passed every hat was removed. - -"The Prince returning from Helvoet," said Lord Mordaunt, and the three -uncovered as the horsemen approached. - -The Stadtholder was mounted on a huge grey Flemish horse, and on his -right hand rode the Marechal de Schomberg, still erect and magnificent; -the two were talking with a certain stiff courtesy; behind them came the -Spanish envoy, M. Zuylestein, M. Zolms, and M. Auverqueverque, together -with a number of Dutch and German nobles. - -The Prince saw the three Englishmen and saluted very graciously; the -setting sun was for a moment full on his grave face, then he passed -through the prison arch, and the company clattered over the cobbles out -of sight. - -"No Englishman with him, mark you," said Mr. Fletcher. - -"Mr. Herbert told me that he _could_ not be open with us," replied -Shrewsbury. - -"Yet Herbert is to have the command of the expedition, is he not?" - -"They say so; but he is full of discontent. Admiral Evertgen hath -spoken against him to the Prince, methinks." - -Mr. Fletcher saluted one of his countrymen whom he had recognized, and -the three turned back. - -A steady dusk was descending, extinguishing the colours in the sky, in -the water, in the windows of the Binnenhof, and blurring those in the -dresses of the people passing to and fro; only the trees and the houses -retained their distinctness and sharpness of outline, and they took on a -marvellous colour of living silver grey. Long deep shadows blended with -the water the beautiful irregular buildings that had been the theatre of -so many great events; the swans stood out, a dead white, from hues -rapidly darkening and mysterious; their feathers were ruffled by a long -breeze that swept chilly from the sea and salt dunes at Scheveningen. - -A yellow light sprang up in one of the lower windows of the Binnenhof, -and cast reflections far beneath it in the water. - -"Did you ever hear the story of John de Witt, the late Grand -Pensionary?" asked Shrewsbury, pulling his cloak about him. "M. -Bentinck told me, and kept me out of bed with the tale----" - -"Why should you think of that now?" asked Mordaunt curiously. - -"You see that light there--the first to be lit in the Binnenhof?--that -was his room, and M. Bentinck said that always when one passed late one -would see that candle shine and know that M. de Witt was still waking." - -"He got a poor reward," said Mr. Fletcher. "He was torn to bits on the -Plaats, was he not?" - -"Anyone whose memory goeth back sixteen years will give you an account -of it," answered my Lord Mordaunt dryly. "I wish I had been beside M. -de Witt that day with a sword in my hand!" - -The Earl sighed. - -"How cold it bloweth! A severe winter is presaged, do you not think, my -lord?" he said. Then abruptly: "Why should good men meet such ends?" - -Lord Mordaunt laughed. - -"You ask me to explain ingratitude? By Heaven, I have not the wit for -the task." - -"Ingratitude!" frowned Shrewsbury; "but these people love the Prince -because he hath done them great services----" - -"But shall we?" interrupted Mordaunt. "Ah, sir, I think the Prince will -meet the same spirit as did John de Witt, should he ever rule in -England----" - -"Why, God forbid!" exclaimed Mr. Fletcher. - -"What?" demanded Mordaunt sharply--"that we should ever be ungrateful?" - -"No; that His Highness should ever rule in Britain." - -Lord Mordaunt answered with some intensity-- - -"Are you so simple, sir, as to think we can have a man like that among -us _not_ ruling us?" - -Lord Shrewsbury was doubtfully silent. His timorous nature had been -startled by the sudden action into which circumstances had spurred it. -A sense of loyalty, a terror of underhand methods, a dread of anything -so violent as a revolution made him already secretly regret the part he -had so far played so well. - -Mr. Fletcher answered carelessly and thoughtlessly-- - -"You set too high a value on the little Prince. His life is not worth a -year's purchase." - -Lord Mordaunt flashed an extraordinary look over the fine person of the -speaker, and the comely youth of the Earl. His thin hand clutched on to -his sword-belt, and his haggard face flushed. - -"You set too high a value on bone and muscle!" he cried, with a -passionate sneer. "You are jolly fellows, both of you; but who will -remember you when you have been dead a year? But men," he added with a -terrible energy, "will talk of the Prince of Orange, and of me." - -They stared at him, amazed at this outburst, and Shrewsbury, seeing what -a frail, deformed creature he was, blushed with a kind of shame. - -"Good God!" said Mr. Fletcher, "I am not working for fame, my lord." - -"No!" flashed Lord Mordaunt; "creatures of clay--of clay! Prettily -coloured, but a breath of the fire that burneth in the little plain -vessels would crack you in a day." - -He gave a flourishing bow, and walked off towards the Stadhuis. - -"An Eccentric," remarked Mr. Fletcher, looking after him. - -"I fear so. He will put himself into a passion at a word; but he would -pledge his whole fortune for you if you were in need of it," answered -the Earl. "How suddenly dark it is; let us, sir, go home." - - - - - CHAPTER XII - - FRANCE MOVES AGAIN - - -It was mid-October; the Prince's preparations were complete, even to the -putting of the horses on board, and yet there was silence from France. -A terrible lull of suspense hushed the United Provinces, and of all the -anxious hearts there was none so anxious as that of the man who had -staked this great wager--the Stadtholder. - -On this day, the nineteenth of the month, he returned from the camp at -Nymwegen, where he had been reviewing the troops long since secretly -raised and drilled by him, and now sanctioned by the States, entered The -Hague privately, and rode to the Binnenhof, where he was closeted with -M. Fagel, who gave him the last assurances that all opposition, even -from the Republican or Loeventein party, was extinct. - -When he left the Grand Pensionary and came out into the still corridors -of the Binnenhof, he stood thoughtfully for a moment, at the head of the -staircase, thinking of the various threads, all so different in texture, -that he had almost succeeded in weaving into the completed pattern of -his design. - -His own country, the German princes, the Empire, Spain, Sweden, England, -the Pope--all combined at last with one aim, to answer the aggressions -of France. - -For ten years, ever since the Peace of Nymwegen had been forced on him, -he had been working through gloom, disappointment, discouragement, for -this end. His answer to the revocation of the Nantz edict and the -seizure of Orange had been the League of Augsburg, which was now bearing -fruit, and all Europe was directed against France. - -Toil, energy, courage, patience, and genius were telling. The young -disinherited Prince, who had been treated as a mere pawn by Charles and -Louis, the general of twenty-two with a miserable army, who had been -offered humiliating terms by the French, insolently victorious, had -slowly grown to be a power that both Bourbon and Stewart feared, and -whose influence was predominant over the larger half of the Continent. - -His rapid thoughts went back over the years to those black days of blood -and despair when he had been put at the head of his country's fortunes -and trusted with her sole hopes. Defeat--disappointment had often been -his in his struggle to maintain the position of the States in Europe, -but even to his own judgment, and he ranked his own achievements low, it -seemed that success had waited on all his apparent failures, for his -country was not only free but great, and he not only independent but -powerful. - -Slowly he began to descend the stairs, which were full of a misty -sunlight. When he reached the first landing-place a man stepped from -one of the tall doors, and, seeing the Prince, bowed and stood very -respectfully waiting for him to pass. - -William paused, came to a stop, and regarded this man with a close, keen -scrutiny. - -He stood so still that the object of his gaze lifted surprised eyes, and -the two looked at each other. - -The Prince stood at the bottom of the flight of stairs, one hand resting -on the polished newel post. He was in buff military attire and carried -over his right arm a heavy dark cloak; he wore a black beaver that -shaded his brow, but the rich light was full on his face, which -expressed a strong emotion sternly contained. - -Behind him a blue and green tapestry hung on the dark wall; it showed a -sea fight with curious ships and curling waves, and banners rising -through smoke; the sun showed every thread in it--every crease, and the -latent gold in the heavy chestnut locks of the Prince. - -"M. Heinsius," he said softly. - -"Your Highness?" - -The Prince did not change his position nor move his brilliant gaze. - -"I think to leave the States very soon, as you know, Mynheer; you know -also under what circumstances." He paused a second, then added: "I have -your good wishes, Mynheer?" - -Antoon Heinsius coloured from chin to brow. He had been of the -Loeventein party and in favour of France, but his policy had changed -lately to an adherence to the Stadtholder; he had not expected this to -be remarked by William. - -"Every true heart in Holland," he answered strongly, "must pray for the -success of Your Highness." - -William descended to the landing-place and laid his frail hand, half -concealed in embroidered linen ruffles, on the sleeve of M. Heinsius. - -"You are the kind of man I want. M. Fagel is old and in failing -health--he needeth help," he said. "You are a patriot; you would, I -think, do anything for the States." - -The words were poor compared to the fire and energy in the Stadtholder's -strained but steady voice, and the purpose in the gentle firm touch of -his hand on the other man's arm. - -M. Antoon Heinsius answered instantly, with a deepening of the colour in -his fine handsome face-- - -"Your Highness doth me exceeding honour." - -"I am never better pleased," said William, "than when I can make a man -like you my friend." - -"Your friend--your servant, Highness," murmured M. Heinsius. He was -considerably moved by this kindness from one usually so stately and -reserved, and one whom he had of late, as he understood his policy -better, warmly admired. - -"You know my aims, my plans of government," continued the Stadtholder; -"you will know what to do in my absence,--by serving Holland you serve -more than Holland." - - M. Heinsius answered earnestly-- - -"Before God I will do my best." - -"Your best is well worth having, Mynheer. I have noticed your career." - -The two men, but a little time since in opposition, looked with complete -understanding into each other's eyes. The Prince had won the fine -loyalty of M. Heinsius as he won all whom he set himself to gain, as he -won ultimately, indeed, all those who served him and came to know him -intimately. - -"The States have acted to the wishes of Your Highness?" asked M. -Heinsius. - -"The States have trusted me," answered the Prince. "Even the Loeventein -faction are eager for me to depart on this expedition, in the hopes, -maybe"--he smiled--"that I shall be slain or affronted. But I have -anxieties." - -He paused and looked at the water of the Vyverberg that lay glinting -with autumn gold beneath the window. - -"Mynheer," he added, "a country is a high stake--one's own country. -Mynheer," he looked again into the face of the older man, "you have -perhaps thought there was some wantonness in this my resolve, you have -thought that I may have dared too much in offering to take beyond seas -all the defences of the States." - -"Never!" answered M. Heinsius firmly. "I understand and I applaud the -policy of Your Highness." - -"It is," said the Stadtholder, "on a sure bottom and to be justified. -Yet, until I know what France doth, I am no better than a man on the -rack." - -"You think--even now?" - -"Even now--if they were to fall on the frontier! Nought there but the -Spaniards! But a little while will show us." - -He paused again, then said, weighing his words, and with a strange -mingling of simplicity and dignity. - -"I am no King in this country, Mynheer, but the servant of the Republic, -and you, who are a knowing man and one who hath the common welfare at -heart, I would have hold me justified in this I do. I have been -believed ambitious, but my ambition is one with the good of the States, -and God knoweth that I do not take this tremendous risk from any such -paltry motive, but because it is our chance, which if we do not take we -are as good as lost." - -"It is no flattery to say that I agree with Your Highness, who seeth -farther and more clearly than most men." - -"You will hear them," answered William, "talk of England, and what I do -to gain England, and how much store I set by that country. Be not -deceived; England is but a counter in the game I play, and, if I -succeed, will be but one of many allies which we will lead against -France. And always with me, Mynheer Heinsius, it is the -Republic--always." - -He spoke with intensity and emotion that were the more moving in -contrast to his usual sternness. - -"The deeds of Your Highness have proved your words," answered Antoon -Heinsius in an unsteady voice. - -The Stadtholder sighed. - -"I will not disguise from you that my sufferings are terrible--my -disquietude almost unbearable, for it is the Republic at stake," he -said. - -He gave his hand to M. Heinsius, who kissed it very lowly, and left the -Binnenhof. - -He had not so much as a footboy in attendance, and rode rapidly to the -'huis ten bosch' with little regard for the salutes and respectful -homage of those he passed. His contemplated enterprise, the very daring -of which, owing to his usual caution, was the more awe-inspiring, made -him even more than ever an object of admiration and attention at The -Hague. - -Once within the bounds of his own woods he was enwrapped in the gracious -loveliness of the trees--the quiet of the frost-bound earth, and had -almost reached the house before he met anyone; then, round the turn of -the long main avenue came a lady, very gracefully riding a white horse. - -The Prince gave her a quick glance, touched his beaver, and was passing -with no slacking of his pace, but she drew rein and said in a faint -voice-- - -"Your Highness----" with a little gesture that seemed to entreat him to -stay. - -He turned his horse instantly. - -"I am leaving The Hague, sir," she said, speaking English, which was -obviously her native tongue. "I have the permission of Her Highness to -go see my sister who is sadly worse." - -She was young, very slender, and carried herself with a certain air of -fire and pride, a certain poise of dignity and animation charming to -behold; her features were ordinary, but vivacious and intelligent; there -was a certain set or cast in her brown eyes not unattractive, and her -hair, in a hundred gleaming hues of gold, red, and deep honey colour, -hung in thick curls on to her riding coat, cut like a man's and thickly -embroidered with gold. - -"Madame Bentinck is worse?" repeated William in a quick distress. - -"They did say so. I felt I should go." - -"I am grieved a thousand times," he added, "and for M. Bentinck"--he -spoke with real feeling, but with that touch of constraint (unlike his -usual reserve) which marked her manner to him--"and for you, Madam." - -Miss Villiers hesitated a second, then said abruptly-- - -"I did not think to meet you. I shall not see you again before you -sail. Take my poor wishes with you." - -"I have been so bold as to feel sure of them," he answered gravely. She -was silent, but he did not ride on, but sat with slack reins looking at -her, half in the thick autumn sunlight, half in the shade of the close -tree trunks, for the sun was sinking. - -They had not spoken to each other alone for years; but when she had -first come to The Hague with his wife there had been a swift attraction -between them, which, for all her discretion and his reserve, had not -failed to be seized upon by the English agents to work discords in the -Court of The Hague. It was not so long ago that the Princess's -Chaplain, Dr. Covell, and Miss Trelawney, had been dismissed by Mary for -inventing and spreading this kind of gossip for the benefit of those -spies of the English Court who were ever endeavouring to estrange the -Prince from his wife. - -The Stadtholder was sensitive to these malicious scandals. He rather -avoided Miss Villiers, who, on her part, was utterly indifferent to -report and, secure in the position the marriage of her sister to M. -Bentinck gave her, troubled herself not in the least either about Mary's -gentle dislike or her own unpopularity in The Hague. She had great -gifts--wit and courage and understanding, enthusiasm and self-control; -she was very reserved, no one knew her well, not the Prince now, though -once he had had her inspiring friendship, her brilliant advice, her -ardent attention; she was still of service to him, but always through -the medium of her sister and M. Bentinck. It was strange to both of -them to come face to face like this in those woods in which, near ten -years ago, they had walked together, and he had told her of his hopes -and fears previous, and just after the Peace of Nymwegen. - -He smiled and she frowned; each wondered how much that friendship had -been worth to the other; Miss Villiers thought that she had long been -balanced with his wife in his affections; he, that she had never -considered him as more than the embodiment of a policy that she -admired--both were wrong. - -"Tell me," she said suddenly, "are you still in fears of the French?" - -"The greatest fears. Until I know how they are going to move I consider -the whole plan in jeopardy. If they should march on the frontiers----" - -"God forbid!" she exclaimed fervently. "When will you know?" - -"I am utterly in the dark." - -"I shall not sleep until you have safely sailed," she said. "For what is -to become of England if this faileth?" - -"It must not fail," he answered quietly. - -Miss Villiers looked at him strangely. - -"No," she remarked; "I do not think you will fail--in the end." - -She lowered her eyes, patted the strong arched neck of her horse, and -added-- - -"I have seen my Lord Shrewsbury and my Lord Manchester, and laboured to -strengthen them in your cause." She smiled. "They are discontented -already." - -"Does it matter?" asked William. - -"A vast deal. You must, sir, try to please the English more; they do -not love you." - -"Then I cannot make them." - -She raised her eyes again. - -"Perhaps you do not quite understand us--the English--though you have -known a many by now----" - -"I do not even understand you, Madam," he answered, "save that you have -done great services to the cause I stand for, and for that," he added -earnestly, "you must not think me ungrateful. Some day I may be able to -share prosperity with my friends." - -He said the last sentence with a warmth yet a simplicity wholly -charming. Miss Villiers paled and averted her eyes. - -"What use is my advice!" she exclaimed bitterly. "What use am I!" - -He looked in surprise at this sudden alteration in her even demeanour. - -"It hath been of use to us," he said gravely. "And what you say now is -just, and I will remember it----" - -Miss Villiers suddenly laughed. - -"Yes; you must be very civil, sir, to the English, and--you must never -trust them!" - -She touched up her horse. - -"Sure I will not detain Your Highness----" - -He took off his hat. - -"I have writ to M. Bentinck," he said earnestly; "but tell him yourself -what a great concern I am under as to your sister her health--and that -he must send a messenger with news." - -Elizabeth Villiers bent her head, smiled rather sadly, and they parted; -he towards the house at the end of the long avenue, and she through -gold-red glittering woods into the hazy autumn distance. - -When he reached the steps of his villa he saw another woman awaiting -him--the Princess, standing in the full last light, with a light cloak -about her. As soon as she beheld his approach she came forward, and was -at his stirrup before he had dismounted. - -"There is a galloper from Flanders with news," she said; her voice was -strained, and she clasped her hands tightly together to steady them. - -A broken exclamation escaped the Prince. - -"If the French are marching on the frontiers I cannot go!" - -The grooms came forward and took his great horse; he sprang from the -saddle and went with the Princess up the shallow sun-flooded steps. - -"Oh, my dear!" cried Mary under her breath, "if there are ill -advices----" - -He pressed her hand fiercely. - -"I cannot leave the country if they are invading Flanders----" - -In the simple vestibule was the impatient messenger--a young Spanish -officer, who went, very courtly, on one knee when the Prince entered, -and handed a packet from M. de Castagnana. - -"News of the French?" demanded William swiftly. - -"I do believe so, Highness." - -The Stadtholder broke open the dispatch, glanced down the close lines of -Spanish, and turned instantly to his pale wife, whose eyes were fixed on -him with a piteous intensity. - -"The French have abandoned Flanders!" he cried; "their troops are -pouring into Germany--the States are safe, thank God! thank God----" - - - - - CHAPTER XIII - - THE GREAT ENTERPRISE - - -All difficulties were overcome. Louis, angry at the English King's -rejection of his advices, and perhaps hoping that his great enemy would -run on disaster in his audacious undertaking, or perhaps believing that -it was now too late in the year for any such expedition, had suddenly -diverted his troops into Germany, where in a few days he had taken every -fort along the Rhine; successes celebrated with great pomp in Paris, but -worthless indeed to Louis should William accomplish what he was now free -to attempt, and bring England out of her shackles into the alliance -against France. - -The Prince's preparations were complete; his Declaration had been -published and circulated in England by the arts of his friends, his -ships and troops were ready, even to the embarking of the soldiery, and -he himself had to-day taken his farewell audience of the States; for now -the south-west wind had changed, and the great fleet gathered at Goree -was free to sail. - -Mary, in the chilly autumn garden of the 'huis ten bosch,' waited his -return. Four times a day she went to public prayers, but not all her -ardent faith could quell the tumult in her soul; her anxieties were not -to be repressed, even at the communion table, which added to her -distress, her self-reproach, her uneasiness. - -She walked up and down the bare alleys, the hard gravel paths, with a -quick step, between the newly-turned flower-beds, the late yellowing -plants, and stiff evergreens. - -The violet St. Michael's daisies were brown and withered on their stems, -the last roses had fallen, and the carp been removed from the fish -basin, where the water lay frost-bound under a thin covering of ice; -there was no sun to cast a shadow from the finger of the grey sundial, -and the sky was obscured with low, floating, changing clouds; a little -wind brought the salt pure air from the sea-coast and stirred Mary's -bright locks inside her miniver hood. - -As she was pacing her most familiar and beloved walk, the little alley -at the end of the garden, sheltered by interlacing trees now bare, the -sound of a footstep brought her to turn with a glad expectancy. - -But it was not the Prince, only M. Auverqueverque, a noble who had long -been his friend, and who had saved his life amid the bloody steppes of -St. Denis, and for this reason always high in Mary's regard. - -"Do you come from the States, sir?" she asked wistfully, speaking in -English, for her Dutch was still very indifferent, and she was shy of -using it save on a necessity. - -"Yes, Madam, and I left His Highness conversing with M. Fagel and M. -Heinsius." - -The Princess stood still. Her loose velvet coat, of a bright blue -colour, served to accentuate the pallor of her face, which was worn and -strained in expression; her eyes were reddened with recent weeping, and -narrowed with a look of trouble. - -"There was no opposition to him--now, I think," she said, with a sudden -smile. - -"Madam--none; there was great enthusiasm and great grief at the going of -His Highness," answered M. Auverqueverque warmly. "He alone was -unmoved--I would you could have heard his words, Madam--'I have had no -thought,' he said, 'since I did undertake this position I hold, save for -the good of the States, and I do take God to witness that, if I have -erred, it hath been because I am human, and not through lack of -affection for, or care of, this country. Now, going to make the -endeavour to be of service to our common faith, I do commend to your -care and guardianship all that I hold dear--these States and my -wife'--and at this they were stirred to tears, Madam, for there was not -one who could not remember what he had brought them through." - -Mary was silent; she pressed her handkerchief to her lips and looked -towards the house. M. Auverqueverque regarded her tenderly. - -"The States professed great devotion to Your Highness," he said, "and -spoke from their hearts." - -"I do thank you," she answered, in a very low tone. "Will you not come -into the house?" - -He followed her across the bare garden, and there was nothing said -between them, each being deeply engaged with different thoughts on the -same subject. - -As they neared the villa, one of the gentlemen of the Princess's -household came to meet them and acquainted Mary that a lady who besought -her charity implored her for an immediate audience. - -The Princess was well used to these applications. Out of her meagre -allowance she contrived to greatly assuage the sufferings of the -distressed refugees at The Hague, and this liberality of hers being -known, she received more petitions than she could at all comply with, -which was a source of great distress to her gentle heart. - -"Alas!" she said; "I have already a great list of persons unsatisfied, -and worthy cases, too; but it is more than I dare put before His -Highness in this present juncture----" - -"This seemeth, Your Highness, a gentlewoman of the better sort, English, -and most earnest for speech with you." - -"I can but see her," answered Mary quickly. "Only I trust she will not -raise her hopes of what I can do for her. M. Auverqueverque, forgive -me." - -With a little curtsy to that gentleman she entered the house. - -"Where is this gentlewoman?" - -In her withdrawing room, she was told, and there Mary proceeded, without -ceremony, still wearing her cloak. - -The small but handsome room held a pleasant sense of comfort in contrast -to the dead grey weather without. A great log fire cast a glittering -light over the dark furniture, and in the full glow of it stood a tall -lady wrapped in a crimson mantle that half disclosed an embroidered -sacque, and wearing, twisted round her head and shoulders, a fine -Eastern scarf embroidered in many colours; she was much older than Mary, -and looked fatigued to illness; her large fair eyes were heavily -shadowed and her mouth strained, but her appearance was one of great -beauty. - -When the Princess entered she made a little deprecating, half-expectant -movement forward, as if hoping for recognition; but she was utterly -strange to Mary, who looked at her in some embarrassment, seeing at once -that this was no ordinary supplicant. - -The strange lady gazed at her sadly. - -"Ten years have changed you to beauty and me to age, Highness," she -said, in a voice of singular sweetness. "You have forgotten me. And I -should scarcely have known Your Highness." - -"Indeed," answered Mary, a little bewildered, "I cannot recall you. But -I do perceive that you are my countrywoman; perhaps I knew you at -Whitehall?" - -"It was there we met, Madam,--and of late we have corresponded----" - -"Why, who are you, Madam?" - -The elder lady cast herself to her knees before the Princess, and -answered with some wildness-- - -"I am the unfortunate wife of my Lord Sunderland!" - -"My Lady Sunderland! Madam, you must not kneel. Oh, what hath passed -in England to bring you here?" - -Mary impetuously raised the Countess, who kissed her hands in a kind of -frantic entreaty. - -"Where is the Earl?" cried Mary, with a flush of agitation. - -"He hath fled," whispered Lady Sunderland, "to Amsterdam, where he is in -hiding. We have lost everything--everything; his life was in danger; -there was no man in all the ministry hated like my lord----" - -The painful colour burnt in Mary's cheek. - -"His Majesty discovered--the intrigues--with us?" she asked. - -"No--else it had been Tower Hill; but the Catholics undermined him--my -lord could not hold his own--he was dismissed all his offices, and when -the Prince his Declaration was spread abroad, there rose such a spirit -in the nation that we were no longer safe, and while we could, we fled." - -Mary took a quick step across the room and laid her trembling hand on -Lady Sunderland's arm. - -"The King--knoweth?" she asked. - -"The last dispatch of M. D'Albeville told him, and he was struck silent -with dismay." - -"Alas! alas!" was wrung from Mary, "that this should have had to be! It -is my father, Madam, and I do a bitter thing against him----" - -She sank into the great walnut chair by the fire, and the ready tears -overbrimmed and ran down her white cheeks. - -"Your Highness hath a patriotic public duty to perform," said Lady -Sunderland. "And must not think of this----" - -"No," answered Mary unsteadily, "no;" she stretched out her hand and -drew the other woman towards her; "but you--you have taken a strange -part, my lady----" - -"My lord," said the Countess earnestly, "hath served His Highness to his -own extreme peril, and now I am come to plead a pardon for him from -you----" - -"But you yourself," urged Mary; "what have you felt towards these -affairs?" - -She rose, still holding the fluttering hand of Lady Sunderland, and -looked steadily into her eyes. - -"I have done as my lord directed," was the answer. "I have served him -all my life. I shall serve him--always." - -Mary dropped her hand. The thought that stirred her was that she could -not judge, since that same unquestioning devotion ruled her life too. - -"My lord his services," she said faintly, "are not such as the Prince -can with honour reward." - -"Nor," answered my lady with some pride, "such as he can with honour -ignore----" - -"He is apostate," said Mary; "that cannot be forgiven." - -"It can be pardoned." - -"What would you, Madam? The Earl is no subject of the Prince." - -"He is his supplicant--as I am; he might have gone to France, but he -hath put himself at the mercy of His Highness." - -"The Prince is ever generous," answered Mary, "but what he can do here I -know not." - -She drew away a little from the Countess, for in her thoughts were -rising the remembrances of all the ignoble parts my lord had played, and -the ill reports she had received of him and his wife from her sister, -the Princess Anne. - -"You must see the Prince," she said, something coldly. - -Lady Sunderland was quick to notice this change of manner. - -"I am a woman in bitter trouble," she answered. "I stand before you no -better than a beggar. If it were not that I might still be of use to my -lord, I would pray to die." - -"You are very weary," said Mary, with instant kindness. She drew her to -seat herself on the long brocade couch--"Poor soul, I doubt that you are -very sad!" - -Lady Sunderland looked at her wildly, then burst into anguished tears. - -"Ah, Madam!" cried Mary, bending over her, "I do beseech you take -comfort." - -The Countess kept her face hidden, and her bowed shoulders heaved. - -"Nothing shall happen to the Earl, I dare swear." - -Lady Sunderland looked up. - -"Forgive me. I have not wept for so long. My son, my eldest son, is -recently dead in Paris in an obscure duel--I hoped so much from -him--once. Dead! Indeed I know not what I say." - -Mary shuddered. She recalled the Lady Sunderland of former -days--brilliant, ambitious, superbly happy--a woman she herself had -looked up to with a half awe as a personification of all the allurement -of that splendid life she had left so early; she thought of all the -unscrupulous intrigues, bargains, deceits, buyings and sellings this -lady had helped her shameless husband with; the extraordinary double -game they had played so long and successfully. But looking at this, the -sudden end, penniless, bereaved exile, she felt no scorn, only a great -pity; for the Countess had been faithful, and Mary thought that a great -virtue in a woman. - -"I did not know that of Lord Spencer," she said gently. "I am very -sorry; it is sad for you." - -The Countess dried her eyes swiftly. - -"I do not know why I should weep for him," she answered half fiercely; -"he went near to break my heart. He was what they call worthless." - -She paused, and Mary stood silent; she was not unaware that the sharpest -prick to Lord Sunderland's magnificence had ever been that poor useless -rake, his son, nor ignorant of the Countess's long endeavour to make -some show before the world in this matter, and now that broken pride -opened its heart to her, a stranger, the sadness of it held her mute. - -Lady Sunderland's wet strained eyes looked past the fireglow to the bare -boughs and cloudy heavens framed in the tall window. - -"It is much better that he is gone," she continued. "Yet--last night I -went on the deck of the packet and it was all so dark and cold, not a -star, and the waves sounding, but not to be seen, and I remembered how -little he was once, and how warm in my arms, and then methought he was -somewhere crying for me in the chill blackness ... abroad--in a poor -lodging with no friend." - -She wrung her hands together with irrepressible horror. - -"My God!" she cried, "there's a way to die!" - -Mary caught her arm. - -"You must not think of it like that; there is another side to it--God is -very merciful, I know nothing--but in heaven there is great pity for all -of us." - -The Countess turned and stared at her a moment, with her handkerchief to -her lips, then said unsteadily-- - -"I never meant to speak like this--but Your Highness is so gentle----" - -Mary smiled. - -"I must carry you to my Lady Argyll, Lady Balcarres that was, who is -here with her daughters----" - -She turned swiftly, for the door opened, and a familiar voice behind her -said eagerly her name--"Marie, Marie----" - -It was the Prince; as he entered he paused, seeing the Countess, who had -instantly risen. - -"Lady Sunderland!" he exclaimed, before Mary could speak, and stood -amazed. - -They had last seen each other on the occasion of the Prince's last visit -to England, and though he knew her at once he found her considerably -changed. - -"The Earl hath fallen?" he added swiftly. - -Lady Sunderland was mistress of herself immediately on his appearance. -By force of her long training she fell into the same manner she would -have used to him at Whitehall or Windsor; she gave him a great courtly -curtsy. - -"The Earl is a refugee at Amsterdam, Your Highness," she said, "and I am -here beseeching charity." - -"Ah." William drew a quick breath. "I thought my lord was safe -enough--the King discovered him?" - -"No, sir, the Catholics unseated him." - -The Prince crossed slowly to the fire. - -"So," he said slowly--"well, Madam, the Earl is safe in Amsterdam, and -the Princess will make you welcome." - -A flush of reviving hope kindled the refugee's pale cheek. - -"We are assured of the gracious protection of Your Highness?" she asked -ardently. - -"My lord hath done me considerable service," answered William. "But, -Madam, he is not loved by those English I have about me now." He smiled -dryly. "Yet, if he will lie quiet awhile--I am not ungrateful----" - -"It is all we ask," said Lady Sunderland warmly. "My lord wisheth only -to live in quiet obscurity unless he can serve Your Highness--some -way----" - -William gave her a keen look. - -"I hardly think," he answered, "that M. de Sunderland is fitted for -quiet obscurity--but perhaps he will endure it a little while. I leave -for Helvoetsluys to-morrow." - -"God bless this noble enterprise Your Highness hath on hand!" cried the -Countess fervently. "Could you see the crowds waiting outside Whitehall -and a-studying the weather-cock and praying for a Protestant wind you -would be heartened further in your daring!" - -The Prince took a swift look at his wife, who stood with averted face by -the window. - -"The King--how took he the news?" he asked. - -"I heard that he was all bewildered (being then deeply engaged in the -Cologne dispute and thinking nothing of this, like a man besotted) and -would not part with the Declaration of Your Highness, but carried it -about with him re-reading it--then he called the bishops to ask if they -had put their hands to the invitation, and they gave him no--after which -he made all manner of concessions, like one in a panic fear----" - -"Concessions?" interrupted the Prince. - -"Sir, he gave back the charter to the city with due solemnity, and their -privileges to the fellows of Oxford and Cambridge, and there was held an -inquiry into the birth of the Prince of Wales--all of which but wasted -the dignity of His Majesty and brought more ridicule than respect--for -all are equally eager for Your Highness, and these concessions come too -late." - -"Too late, indeed," said William quietly. "I hope this week to be in -England. How came you across, Madam? I have stopped the packet service -lest they carry too sure advices of what we do here----" - -Lady Sunderland smiled sadly. - -"In a little owler, sir, we slipped off from Margate sands, and the -weather was so terrible we were like to have been whelmed by the -overtopping waves; yet we gained Maaslandsluys, and from there my lord -went on to Amsterdam----" - -"He was wise," said the Prince, "not to come to The Hague." - -Lady Sunderland looked at Mary, who had stood motionless so long. - -"Your Highness--may I not retire? I have taken too much of your -time----" - -The Princess turned about with a little start. - -"Where are you lodging?" she asked. - -"With one Madame de Marsac--known, I think, to Your Highness----" - -"You must stay with me," answered Mary warmly, yet with a curious absent -air of distraction. "I will take you to the other English ladies----" - -She looked at her husband. - -"I shall come back," she said. He gave a little nod which cut short the -graceful gratitude of the Countess, and the two ladies left. - -Now he was alone he seated himself near to the fire with that air of -utter fatigue that was like apathy and seemed at times, when he was out -of the sight of men, to overwhelm his great spirit. - -He sat quite still, gazing into the fire from under drooping lids, and -when Mary softly returned he did not move. - -She slipped behind his chair and took the stool the opposite side of the -hearth; she had put off her cloak; the firelight touched her brown dress -and brown hair to a beautiful ruby warmth and gave a false rosiness to -her pale face. - -"I am grieved for Lady Sunderland," she said. - -The Prince answered absently. - -"Ah yes--I believe she is a knave like him--but they are clever, and he -at least hath some root of patriotism in him." - -"Yet I am sorry that you must use such people." - -He made no reply, but continued to gaze sadly and sternly into the fire. - -Mary gave a little shudder. - -"I cannot believe that to-morrow we go to Helvoetsluys----" - -Her voice broke, and she steadied it hastily. - -"The States are coming also, are they not, to see your departure?" - -"They are paying me that compliment," he answered indifferently. - -"What chance will your poor wife have to speak to you then--amid that -pomp----" - -He sat up and looked at her with instant attention. - -"Have you something that you wish to say to me, Marie?" - -"Yes," she said earnestly. "I do desire to ask you--for your own -sake--to see that no harm happeneth to--my father." - -Now she had spoken she sat very pale and distressed, but fixing him with -her soft brown eyes ardently. - -He flushed, and seemed much moved. - -"That you should need to ask----" he began, then checked himself. "I -promise," he said. - -"For your own dear sake," she cried, "forgive me for speaking of -this--but let people know you would not have him hurt----" - -He gazed at her intently. - -"This is hard for you," he replied. "I could not go without your -sanction and your help----" - -He broke off again. Speech, which had always seemed inadequate to him, -now seemed to merely travesty his feelings. - -She too was silent; she had lowered her eyes and seemed to be thinking -deeply. The Prince studied her with an almost painful intensity. - -She was so lovely, so gracious, so sweet, so high souled ... he -remembered how he had disliked and despised her, treated her with -neglect, then indifference, made no effort to please or win her; and yet -she, during the ten years of their marriage, had never from the first -failed in obedience, sweetness, self-abnegation, nor once faltered from -a passionate devotion to his interests, an unchanging belief in him, and -now, for him, she was doing violence to her own heart and setting -herself in active opposition against her father, a tremendous thing for -such a nature to bring itself to. As he gazed at her fair youth, pale -with anxiety for him, he felt she was the greatest triumph of his life, -and her love an undeserved miracle. - -And there came to his mind a certain conversation that he had had with -Sir William Temple in a sunny garden at Nymwegen before his marriage. -He remembered that the Englishman had smiled at his scornful talk of the -Princess, and had said--"Do not despise good women because there are so -many of them----" - -Mary suddenly moved and rose. The sun had parted the loose clouds and a -fine ray fell through the tall window and shone in her bright hair and -satin skirt. His thoughts were scattered by her movement; he rose also. - -She smiled at him. - -"How kind you are to me," she said, trembling, and very low. - -"Dear God!" he exclaimed softly, as if he was mocked. "In what way?" - -"In giving me so much more of your company of late," answered Mary -simply. - -The Prince looked at her strangely. - -"Women are wonderful," he said humbly. - - - - - CHAPTER XIV - - STORMS - - -The long sand-dunes about the village of Scheveningen were covered with -spectators to the number of several thousands, comprising nearly the -entire population of The Hague, several strangers, refugees from other -parts of Holland, and many French, German, and English; they were -principally women, children, and old men, or those in the sober attire -of merchants, clerks, servants, or shopkeepers. - -One single object seemed to animate these people; they were all utterly -silent, and all directed their gaze in one direction--that of the sea. - -There, covering the entire sweep of water and obscuring the great -horizon itself, rode that huge armament which contained the whole -strength of the Republic, and on which was staked her hopes and her -safety. - -This fleet had weighed anchor during the stillness of the previous -night; a few hours after the wind had turned to the south and so brought -all the ships on the north coast, where, for half a day, they had been -in full view of The Hague. - -The weather was still and warm, the sky a sunny blue, and the long -stretches of the dunes touched from their usual greyness to a gold look. -Towards afternoon a fine mist rose shimmering from the sea and gave a -curious unreal flatness to the naval pageantry, as if it was some -magnificent vision painted between sea and sky. - -Without speaking, save in short whispers to each other, without moving, -save to change their places by a few steps, the people continued to gaze -at the gorgeous spectacle, the like of which no living man had been able -to see before. - -There were no less than sixty-five great ships of wars, splendid vessels -rising high above the waves, with much gold on them, seventy vessels of -burden in attendance on them and five hundred transports. - -These ships carried five thousand cavalry and ten thousand infantry of -the magnificent Dutch army, the six British regiments in the employ of -the States, the French Protestants formed into a regiment by the Prince -after the Edict of Nantz was revoked, and the whole artillery of every -town in the Republic, which had been left stripped of all defences save -twelve ships of war and the German troops on the Rhine frontier. - -The immobile, silent effect of this great and terrible fleet, spreading -for miles and representing the entire strength of a vast maritime power, -making little progress and waiting for the wind, wrought a kind of -exaltation in the hearts of the spectators, all of whom felt their -fortunes dependent on the success of this enterprise, and most of whom -had friends and relations on board, or in England, whose lives were now -at the hazard. - -But no dread of personal loss or discomfiture, no fear for those dear to -them, could equal the grand swell of pride the Dutch felt at beholding -the magnificence of the Republic they had built up out of blood and -tears, the power of the Religion they had preserved through perils and -agonies inconceivable, and which had now grown, from a little feeble -spark, to a torch to illume half the world. - -The dangers to which they were exposed, the chances of attack from a -powerful enemy while their defences were abroad courting the fortune of -war and the hazard of the winds and sea, the fact that their artillery -was gone and their frontier was on one side in the possession of their -enemies and on the other but protected by German mercenaries, could not -check the sense of glory that stirred them as they watched the changing -leagues of ships, so near, yet so silent and beyond communication. - -The exiles, French and English, gazed with more sullen feelings; but -while no national pride was thrilled in their bosoms, the thought of -their former wrongs and suffering and the anticipation of their speedy -avenging made them no less fiercely wish success to those spreading -sails wooing the wind for England. And there was one foreigner, who -loved Holland as her own country, and whose heart beat with a pride and -a terror as intense as that which inspired any of the Dutch. - -This was the wife of the Stadtholder, who had yesterday returned from -Helvoetsluys. She had been above two hours riding up and down the sands -watching the slow passing of the fleet; in her company were the English -ladies, the Countesses of Sunderland and Argyll and some of her own -attendants; she had been very silent, and, now, as the afternoon was -fading, she touched up her beast and galloped away from all of them -along the dunes. - -She reined her black horse at a higher point where some sparse poplar -trees, stunted, leafless, and tufts of crackling grass grew out of the -dry white sand, and looked round at the great sweep of sea covered with -ships and the great curve of shore covered with people. - -Then her glance returned to the object where it had rested since she -first rode down to Scheveningen, the blue flag hanging heavily above the -"Brill," the ship in which the Prince sailed. - -Amid all the crossed lines of mighty masts, intricate cordage, and -strained sails she had never failed to distinguish, now in sun, now in -shade, sometimes lifted by the breeze, sometimes slack, this standard, -though she was very shortsighted, and much clear to the other spectators -was a blur to her. When she used her perspective glass she could -sometimes read the legend on this flag, which was the motto of the House -of Orange with the ellipsis filled in--"I will maintain the liberties of -England and the Protestant Religion." - -Mary rode out farther along the dunes, the crisp sand flying from her -horse's feet. She was a fine horsewoman, and had dropped the reins on -her saddle to hold her glass. The wind was keen on her face and swept -back the long curls from her ears and fluttered the white plume in her -beaver. Though she was near so vast a multitude no human sound -disturbed the clear stillness; there was only the long beat of the surf -on the smooth wet sand and an occasional cry of some pearl-coloured -sea-bird as he flashed across the golden grey. - -In Mary's heart all terror, remorse, sadness had been absorbed by strong -pride; the doubts, shames, fears that had tortured her were gone; she -did not think of her father, of her danger, of her loneliness, only that -she, of all the women there, was the beloved wife of the man who led -this--a nation's strength--into war for that cause which to her was the -holiest of all causes, the new liberty against the ancient tyranny, -tolerance against oppression--all that she symbolized by the word -Protestantism. - -She was so absorbed in this ecstasy of pride and enthusiasm at the sight -on which she gazed that she started considerably to hear a voice close -beside her say-- - -"Is it not a magnificent spectacle, Madam?" Mary turned quickly and saw -a plainly dressed lady on a poor hired beast riding close up to her. -Solitude was dear to the Princess, but to rebuke an advance was -impossible to her nature. - -"Are you from The Hague?" she asked gently. - -"Yes, Madam, I came there yesterday." - -She was English, and obviously did not know Mary, who was moved by -something pitifully eager and wistful in her worn thin face and stooping -figure. - -"You are belike one of the English exiles?" she suggested kindly. - -The other opened out at once with a glow of gratitude at the interest. - -"My husband was an officer in the Staffordshire, Madam, and we had no -money but his pay, so when he refused to abjure there was nothing for us -but exile." - -Mary pointed to the fleet. - -"He--your husband--is there?" - -"Yes--the Prince gave him a pair of colours in one of the English -regiments." - -"You should be proud," smiled Mary. - -She answered simply-- - -"I am very proud. I pray God to bless the Prince day and night. Where -should such as I be but for him? You, I see, Madam, are also English." - -"Yes." - -The stranger lady glanced at Mary's gold-braided coat and splendid -horse. - -"But not a refugee?" she questioned. - -"No--my home is at The Hague. I am married to a Dutchman." - -The other was looking out to sea again. - -"Can you tell me how the ships are disposed?" she asked. - -"What is your name, Madam?" - -"Dorothy Marston." - -"Well, Mrs. Marston, those in the foremost squadron, to the left"--Mary -indicated them with her riding-stock--"have on board the English and -Scotch, commanded by General Mackay--they sail under the red flag of -Admiral Herbert." - -"Who is given the van out of compliment to the English," remarked Mrs. -Marston, with sparkling eyes. - -Mary drew an excited breath. - -"Those scattered ships, under the white flag, are the Germans, the -Prince his guards and Brandenburgers under Count Zolms, and these that -bring up the van are the Dutch and the French Huguenots under the Count -of Nassau--this squadron is under the orders of Admiral Evertgen." - -"And where, Madam, is the Prince?" - -"In the centre--you can see his flag with his arms--it is called the -'Brill.'" - -"Thank you, Madam--it is a noble sight, is it not?" - -Mary laughed softly; she was so secure in her own exaltation, that she -felt a kind of pity for the rest of the world. - -"Your husband is aboard the fleet?" asked Mrs. Marston, with friendly -curiosity. - -"Yes," said Mary quietly. - -"Well, there is heartache in it as well as pride for us, is not there, -Madam?" - -Mary answered with sparkling animation, her eyes on the blue flag. - -"That is for afterwards." - -Mrs. Marston sighed. - -"I know--but one storm----" - -"Speak not of storms," answered Mary, "when we have all whom we love on -board yonder ships----" - -"Not _all_." - -Mary turned her eyes from the fleet that was gradually becoming -enveloped in the mists of the darkening afternoon. - -"How--not all?" - -"There are always the children," answered the other lady, with a bright -tenderness. "I have three, Madam, whom we keep in Amsterdam, as The -Hague is so expensive----" - -Mary's horse started, and she caught up the reins and clutched them to -her bosom. "They are--boys?" she asked, in a changed voice. - -"Two, Madam. If they had gone I should indeed be desolate--but they are -too young, and I am selfish enough to be glad of it." - -Mary sat motionless. The whole sky was darkening, and hurrying clouds -hastened the twilight. The waves were growing in size and making a -longer roar as they curled over on to the land; the great ships of war -could be seen tossing as their wind-filled sails drove them forwards, -and the little boats were pitched low on their sides. - -"It indeed seemeth like a storm," said Mary faintly; her courage, her -pride, had utterly gone; the eyes she strained to fix on the blue flag -were sad and wild. - -"A storm?" echoed Mrs. Marston. "O God, protect us!" - -Suddenly a low deep murmur rose from the distant multitude. - -"What is that?" - -"They have lit the lantern on the Prince his ship," said Mary, very low. - -The English exile thrilled to see the great clear light hoisted amid the -masts and cordage, sparkling, a beacon through the stormy dusk; her -thoughts travelled from her children, whom so lately she had spoken of. - -"It is sad," she remarked, "that the Prince hath no heir." - -"His cousin, the Stadtholder of Friseland, is his heir," answered Mary, -with sudden harshness. - -"Ah yes; I meant no child. My husband saith it is cruel for any man and -terrible for a great Prince--for how useless all seemeth with none to -inherit! And such an ancient family to end so suddenly----" - -Mary murmured something incoherent, of which Mrs. Marston took no -notice. - -"I would not be the Princess," she continued, "for her chances of a -crown, would you, Madam? It is a cruel thing--I met in Utrecht a -Scotswoman who had been her tirewoman, and she told me that the poor -lady was like a maniac after her second hopes were disappointed and for -ever----" - -Mary put out her hand; her face was concealed by the deeping dusk and -the shade of her hat. - -"Please stop," she said, in a hard voice. "I--you do not understand--do -people _talk_ of this? God is hard, it seems--and you have children, -and I _pitied_ you. I have been too proud--but humbled enough, I -think." - -Her speech was so confused and broken that the English lady could make -no sense of it; she stared at her in surprise. - -"Why, my speech annoys you, Madam." - -Mary was facing the sea again. - -"No--continue--people _talk_ of this?" She was facing the overwhelming -bitterness of the discovery that her inmost anguish, which had been too -sacred to take on her own lips, was matter for common gossip. It was an -extraordinary shock, so carefully had the subject always been ignored -before her, and yet, she told herself fiercely, she might have known -that it was discussed in the very streets, for it was a matter that -affected nations. - -"You must have heard it spoken of if you have lived any time in -Holland," answered Mrs. Marston--"ay, or in England either--they say -'tis a pity the Princess cannot do as the Queen did, and smuggle an heir -out of a warming-pan--why, see, the ships are moving out of sight!" - -A great wind had risen which tore the clouds across the paling sky and -drove the ships across the rising sea; already a widening expanse of -waves showed between the fleet and the sands from which the people were -beginning to depart in silent groups; all mist had gone, swept away like -vapour from a mirror, and every tumbling crested wave was clear in the -storm-light. Mary held herself rigid, watching the blue flag lurching to -the pitching of the high vessel; a mere speck it was now, and near the -horizon, and she watched it with no feeling of pride now, that was; the -momentary exaltation had passed, been crushed utterly by a few careless -words. - -Mrs. Marston spoke again, but Mary did not hear her; she was alone in a -world of her own. The rapidly disappearing fleet was blurred to her -vision, but she could still see the great light at the prow of the -"Brill" as the crowded canvas bent and leapt before the sudden fury of -the wind. - -"A storm," she said, aloud--"a storm." - -Her horse moved along the dunes and she did not check him; against the -blue-black clouds was the indistinct figure of Dorothy Marston on her -little knock-kneed hack, excitedly waving her handkerchief to the -disappearing ships. - -Mary passed her without speaking, then suddenly turned and galloped back -towards Scheveningen, where, in front of the church, her attendants were -waiting for her; she rode in among them, and, for some reason she could -not have herself explained, passed her own friends and singled out Lady -Sunderland. - -"Let us go home," she said; "it is going to be a stormy night." - -The Countess at once noticed the change in her manner--the brave calm -changed to piteously controlled trouble, the superb pride turned to -trembling sorrow. - -"Those ships, Highness," she answered, "can weather very fierce storms." - -"Yet a little accident might sink them," returned Mary, in a quivering -voice--"like hearts, Madam, that are so hurt with little pricks yet will -survive a deep thrust----" - -She lifted her beautiful face to the failing light; even the lantern on -the "Brill" had disappeared now; the dark sea was almost clear of sail, -the horizon was obscured in part by the passing of the vanguard, but for -the rest was silver white, a line of radiance fast being obscured by the -overwhelming threatening clouds. - -In silence Mary turned and rode back to The Hague; the other ladies -whispered together, but she said nothing until they reached the 'huis -ten bosch'; then the rain was falling in cold drops and the heavy wind -was casting down the snapped branches along the wide bare avenue. - -They dismounted, and Mary turned impulsively to the little quiet group. - -"You are extraordinarily kind to me," she said, "and I must thank you -all." - -She smiled a little and went from them to her chamber, and then walked -straight to the window embrasure and stood listening to the growing -sound of the wind that lashed the darkness with spreading fury. - -She would not come down to supper or even change her clothes, though she -was usually very careful not to disturb the routine of her well-ordered -life; yet, in this little intimate court where every one was her friend, -she felt she might allow herself this solitude. - -With the increasing darkness the storm rose to fierce height; the rain -dashed against the window-pane, making the glass shiver, and the wind -was tearing through the wood as if every tree must break before it. -Mary took off her hat and cloak and called for candles; when they were -brought she sent for Lady Sunderland. - -The Countess came, looking wan and old; she wore no rouge, and the fair, -carelessly dressed hair showed the grey locks unconcealed. - -Mary turned to her dry-eyed. - -"Do you hear the storm?" she said. She was seated on a low red stool by -the window and held a Prayer Book in her right hand. - -"My Lady Argyll is weeping downstairs," said Lady Sunderland; "but I -perceive that Your Highness hath more constancy." - -Mary held up the Prayer Book. - -"I have been trying to set my mind on this," she answered, "but the -devil is busy about me--and I cannot fix my thoughts on anything -but--those ships----" - -Lady Sunderland, who had made a great clatter with her devotions at -Whitehall, with the sole object of covering her husband's apostasy, but -who had no real religion, knew not what to say. - -"God," continued the Princess gravely, "must surely protect an -enterprise so just, but since His ways are mysterious it might be His -will to bring us to disaster, and, humanly speaking, it is a terrible -night." - -"I fear they will be diverted from their course," said the Countess, -"since faith cannot still the winds----" - -Mary rose and handed her the Prayer Book. - -"I think we should pray--will you read?--I have had a course of humours -in my eyes, and of late they are so weak----" - -The Countess took the book with shaking fingers, then laid it down on -the blue-and-white chintz-covered chair beside her. - -"I cannot," she said half fiercely. "It is, Madam, no use." - -Mary looked at her curiously, and a pause of silence fell, during which -the triumphant progress of the storm seemed to gather and swell abroad -like a trumpet blast without the dark window. - -Presently Mary said in a moved and barely audible voice-- - -"Madam--about your son--have you ever thought that you would--forgive -me--but he was nothing but pain to you----" - -She paused, and Lady Sunderland answered from a kind of -self-absorption-- - -"I did my best. It all seemeth so pointless now we are ruined--I -thought of the name, but there is his brother--a cold, hard spirit who -hath no kindness for me." - -Mary was looking at her intently. - -"That must be terrible," she said, breathing quick. "To have children -who love one not--do you not think, perhaps, Madam, that it might be -better--to--to have none?" - -Suddenly Lady Sunderland saw what she meant, divined the desperate -appeal for comfort disguised in the halting sentence. - -"I do think so, truly, Madam," she answered instantly. "My children -have, for all my care, been but discomfort to me." - -"But there was the time when they were little," said Mary, with a note -in her voice that caused Lady Sunderland to turn away her face. "And -you must have been glad of them--I--ah, I forgot what I was saying." - -She was young enough herself to be the Countess's daughter, and that -lady felt a great desire to take her in her arms and weep over her, but -a certain reserve and majesty about Mary's very simplicity prevented her -from even discovering her sympathy. - -"It is very strange to me to think of my husband abroad in this great -storm," said the Princess, looking up at the window. "I bless my God -that I have the trust to believe that he is safe," she added quietly. -"It was as if my heart was torn out when he left me, and since I have -been in a kind of numbness." - -"It is hard on women that they must always sit at home," remarked the -Countess; she thought of her own lord lurking in the back streets of -Amsterdam; she would rather have been with him than playing her part at -The Hague. - -The wind rose on a great shriek that seemed to rattle every board in the -house. - -Mary winced back from the window, and her face was white even in the -candle glow. - -"Let us go to prayers," she said faintly. - - - - - CHAPTER XV - - THE SECOND SAILING - - -The next day the Prince of Orange re-entered Helvoetsluys attended by -four maimed ships, the rest having been utterly scattered and dispersed -by the fearful storm; he then, though giddy and scarce able to stand -through seasickness, proceeded, with a serene composure, to go from ship -to ship animating his discomfited followers, and refused to be put on -shore, lest it should be taken as a sign that he was discouraged in his -enterprise and intended to postpone his sailing till the spring. - -For the next week the great ships of war with tattered sails and broken -masts came creeping out of the ports and creeks where they had taken -shelter to join the fleet at Helvoetsluys. - -Many of the horses had been thrown overboard to save the others, and one -transport had been lost on the coast of Ireland, but there was no -further damage, and the Prince by his great constancy, enthusiasm, -spirit, and courage soon had all repaired and made fit, though he caused -it to be put in the Dutch Gazette that he was utterly confounded and his -forces so broken by the storm that he could not possibly sail before -April, and copies of these Gazettes he saw were smuggled into England, -where they were read by King James, who was mightily pleased by this -news--and said it was no wonder since the Host had been exposed a week, -and thereupon he withdrew all the concessions that the reported coming -of the Prince had frightened him into, and so showed plainly that fear -and not desire had wrung them from him; and both the relaxing and the -tightening of his rule were fatally too late for his fortunes, for men -had no longer any trust in his word or sincerity, and half the great -lords were pledged to the Prince, and the greater number thought there -could be no salvation save in his coming, so gave no heed to the actions -of the King, but watched the weather-cocks and prayed for a Protestant -wind. - -Within Whitehall was a medley of priests and women, mingled with some -honest gentlemen who really were loyal to the Kingship and the House of -Stewart, and who were in no way listened to, and silent courtiers who -were pledged to William, about the stern foolish King who alternated -between weak hesitation and self-confident obstinacy. - -Sunderland had kept the business of the Kingdom together, and now -Sunderland was gone everything fell into bewildering chaos; the King, -distracted between the advices of M. Barillon and the fears of Father -Petre, the tears of the Italian Queen and the sullen coldness of his -nobles, bitterly regretted Sunderland, whose intrigues he had not as yet -any glimpse of. There was a fine fleet the King might have relied on, -and the Admiral, Lord Dartmouth, was loyal enough, but the Duke of -Grafton, son of the late King, and a rude handsome rake, went down -privately to Plymouth and extorted a secret promise from most of the -Captains that they would not fight for a Catholic King against a -Protestant Prince. - -The Army was gathered on Hounslow Heath with the object of overawing the -capital, and the advice of those spirited gentlemen who were truly -desirous to see the King retain his dignities was that he should put -himself at the head of it and so advance to meet the invader. - -But the spirit that had inspired James when he was rowed with his flag -through the fires of Solebay had long left him; his courage had been the -mere flash of youth and noble blood; he was old now, and his soul sank -before danger; the terrors of his father's fate, the miseries of his own -exiled youth, came upon him with horrible vividness; he let disasters -crowd down upon him, and clung to his priests and his faith with the -despair of stupidity. - -Meanwhile the Prince of Orange, having taken a second leave of his wife -and the States, sailed with great pomp, the sound of trumpets, the -flutter of flags, and the discharge of artillery, from Helvoet, having -been but eleven days repairing his ships, replacing his horses, and -reassembling his fleet, and having, by the serenity of his behaviour, -the unfaltering decision of his actions, the wisdom of his proposals, -snatched glory from disappointment, as was ever the way of this Prince. - -The little advice packets that darted out from the coast of England to -watch his movements reported that he was making for the north, in which -direction, with a brisk gale in his sails, he indeed steered for twelve -hours; but when the night fell and the advice packets had hastened home -with news, the Prince signalled to his fleet to tack about, which it -did, and, with all the sail it could spread, put before the wind to the -westward, and under a fair sky bore for the coasts of Devon. - -This ruse had its full effect, for Lord Feversham, who commanded the -English troops, was bid march northwards, and all the cattle were -ordered to be driven from the coasts of Yorkshire. - -With the next dawn the Dutch van made the Channel, along which it -stretched for twenty miles in full view of England and France, the -shores of both these countries being covered with spectators who viewed -a sight such as had not been seen in these waters since the great Armada -crossed these seas, a hundred years before. - -The magnificence of this procession of mighty ships, which took seven -hours to pass, going at their full speed before a strong east wind, the -strength and purpose that they symbolized, the power of the Religion, -once despised and oppressed, but that now was able to split the world -into factions, whose name showed beneath the arms of Orange, that family -which of all others had been most distinguished in the defence of -liberty, the sheer pomp of war in the great vessels with their guns, -flags, and netting, their attendant ships and companies of soldiers on -board, the prestige of the man who led this daring expedition, all -combined to thrill the hearts of those who watched, whether on the -French or English coasts, whether they uttered curses or blessings, -prayers for failure or success. - -About noon, they then being in Calais roads, the Prince gave orders to -lay by, both to call a council of war and to strike terror into the two -watching nations by displaying his strength in this narrow sea. - -Accordingly he himself changed to the foremost vessel, taking with him -his own standard, and there waited for the rest of the armament to come -up, which they presently did, and formed into one body, sixteen ships -square, only a league at each side, from either shore, and when they -were drawn up, the Prince, from that ship which was nearest the English -coast, signalled that the two famous forts of Calais and Dover were to -be saluted, which was done at the same moment with great thunder of the -deep-mouthed artillery, which was an astonishing spectacle that there -should be in Dover Straits a fleet so huge that it could salute these -two forts at the same time and be but a league from either. There was -something awful in the sound of this warlike courtesy, to the ears of -both nations, and some awe and terror mingled with their admiration as -the smoke obscured the green dancing waves. - -From Dover Castle there was no reply, the doubt of England being -expressed in this silence; but from Calais came a proud answering salute -as from a mighty foe who honours himself by the formalities of respect -to his adversary, and the Prince standing on the upper deck amid the -slow-clearing gunpowder vapour flushed to hear again the French guns who -had last spoken to him among the heights of St. Denis, ten years ago. - -At the council of war now held it was decided that the disposition of -the fleet should be changed, for news had come that the English, who lay -at the Gunfleet, were making full endeavours to overtake and fight the -Dutch, for though Lord Dartmouth knew that half his officers were -pledged to the Prince, and his men very doubtful of engaging in the -cause of the King, yet he resolved to use his utmost powers to prevent -the landing of His Highness, for he was under personal obligations to -James, who had always treated him more as a friend than a subject, and -was filled with an honourable desire to serve His Majesty in this -crisis. - -The Prince, knowing this from my Lord Grafton, was eager to avoid a -conflict, for however well disposed the English sailors might be to his -religion and person, he wisely suspected that a nation so proud, and in -particular so jealous of their prestige on the sea, would, when faced in -order of battle with those people whom they had so often and so recently -fought, forget everything save the desire to achieve a victory over that -Republic which alone disputed with them the over-lordship of the ocean. - -For this reason His Highness had given Admiral Herbert the command of -his armament, that the English might salve their arrogance by the -thought that an Englishman led this invading force; yet he secretly -believed that the names of Herbert and Russell would not prove so potent -a motive for peace, as the sight of the foreign flags, jacks, and -haughty ships would prove an incentive to rage in the bosoms of the -British, who could endure, it seemed, any hardship but the idea of -foreign dominion. - -Therefore it was decided that the Prince and the transports with the -troops should continue to lead the van with three ships of war to guard -him, and so, sailing down the Channel, make the coast of England, in the -west, and that the bulk of the fleet should remain in the van ready to -engage the English should they leave their station and venture into the -open straits. - -But this, though it was the thing he most longed to accomplish, Lord -Dartmouth found impossible, for that east wind so favourable to the -hopes of the Prince was a tyrant to him and held him helpless abreast of -the Long Sands, with his yards and topmasts down incapable of purchasing -his anchors, while he beheld some of the Dutch vessels pass within his -very sight making triumphantly for the coast he was bidden protect while -his ships rode at their station useless as a fishing fleet. - -And this was in some part the fault of my Lord Dartmouth, who cursed the -wind in a passion of misery, for he had ignored the advice of His -Majesty, who was a knowing man in naval affairs, which was to anchor -east of the Gallopper, so that his ships might be free to move which way -they pleased, instead of which he acted on his own sense, which was not -equal to the King's advice; as was proved, for the scouts, who were left -at the Gallopper, captured a Dutch transport, and if they had been -greater in strength might have served the whole body of the invader the -same. - -Now in full sight of the shores of these two countries, England and -France, the Dutch fleet performed their evolutions, with the pomp of -war, the discharge of artillery, the music of trumpets and drums, and -the salutes of the entire armament to the ship which carried the Prince -and his standard as she made her way to the van; and this all under a -blue sky crystal-clear that reflected in the tumbling waves lashed by -the strong high English wind a hundred tints of azure and water-green, -above which the smoke hung in light vapours. - -The Prince, under full sail, made for Torbay, which was large enough to -contain a great number of the transports, but the Dutch pilot, not being -just in his reckoning, went past both that port and the next, which was -Dartmouth. The third port was Plymouth, but this being a naval station -and a well-fortified place, the Prince was by no means inclined to risk -a landing there, since he was not certain of the disposition of the -inhabitants towards him, and his great object on land, as on sea, was to -avoid a combat, since his sole argument for interfering in the affairs -of England was the wish of the English themselves and the invitation of -their principal nobles, as he had acknowledged in his Declaration, and -it would give a very ill look to this claim of his if his landing was -opposed by a bloody fight. - -Yet to tack about to enter Torbay was attended by almost equal danger, -since the wind had changed, and Lord Dartmouth with his entire fleet had -left Long Sands and was now under full sail in pursuit. - -The Prince, distracted by these conflicting considerations, knew not -what course to take, and was tortured by the most cruel anxiety, since -to either advance or retire might be followed by misfortunes fatal to -his whole design. - -While he was still undecided as to what orders to give and which risks -to choose, the wind changed in an instant to the south, which had the -effect of bringing the Prince within a few hours into Torbay and forcing -the English Admiral back to Long Sands. - -It being the 4th of November when the Prince saw the cliffs of Devon and -the great natural harbour overlooked by the tourelles and towers of -Brixham and Torquay, he was anxious to effect a landing there, because -it was both his birthday and the anniversary of his marriage, and so he -put off in a cock boat with a few of the English nobles and M. Bentinck, -and came ashore at Brixham, where there were none but fishermen to -receive him, the which stood about staring half in admiration, half in -awe, thinking maybe of Monmouth's landing not so far off nor so long -ago, and how the county had suffered for it under the executions of my -Lord Chief Justice. - -The Prince called for horses, which were being landed as fast as might -be where the water was shallower; yet it was not possible to make the -landing effectual till the morrow, and but few of the transports were -able to land that night. - -The Prince, who had well studied the map of England, resolved to march -to Exeter and there wait the coming of his English friends; but for this -night the wooden tent that he used in war was put up in a neighbouring -field, to the great amazement of the country-folk, who had never beheld -anything of this nature. - -The friends and followers of the Prince being gathered about him to -congratulate and flatter, among them came his chaplain, Dr. Burnet, -expounding in his usual talkative excitement on the marvellous success -of the expedition. - -The Prince was more than ordinarily cheerful, and spared the rebuke with -which he usually checked the meddling enthusiast. - -He gave the Englishman his hand, and looking round the darkening -landscape said, with a smile-- - -"Well, doctor, what do you think of predestination now?" - - - - - CHAPTER XVI - - NEWS FROM ENGLAND - - -The weeks that followed, so full of great events, passions, movements, -and suspenses in Britain, passed with an almost uneventful calm in The -Hague, where the Princess, round whose rights half the turmoil had -arisen, and the wives of many eminent men engaged in, or affected by, -the rapid changing of events, waited for the packets that brought the -English letters, and lived in between their coming in a kind of retired -anxiety supported by prayers and saddened by tears. - -The Elector of Brandenburg and his wife came on a visit to Mary, and she -entertained them as best she might with her heart aching with other -thoughts. They went, and she was alone again and free to go to and from -her chapel and wait for her letters and wonder and dread the future -through the cold winter days in the quiet town, which seemed, as she -was, to be waiting with suspended breath. - -The progress of affairs in England came brokenly and from various -sources, letters arrived slowly, at irregular intervals, delayed by -ice-blocked rivers, storms at sea, detained messengers. At first the -news was of the Prince's progress to Exeter and the cold reception of -that city, the long delay of his friends to join him, the mere wondering -apathy of the country-people, who made no movement one way or another, -save to make a spectacle of the passing of this foreign army and to -petition the Prince that he would, when he could, remove the hearth tax. - -The next news was that when the Prince was near resolved to return home -the spirited English gentry began to rise in his favour, the Lord -Wharton and the Lord Colchester marched from Oxford to join him, and my -Lord Lovelace broke through the militia, and though arrested once and -taken to Gloucester, yet forced out of prison, and with the help of some -young gentlemen who had taken up arms for the Prince, drove all the -Papists out of that city, and so joined His Highness at Exeter; soon -after the Lord Delamere came from Nottingham and took Chester, which, -under a Papist, Lord Molineux, held out for the King, and my Lord Danby -rose up in the North, and with other persons of quality seized on the -city of York and turned out the Papists and clapt up the Mayor, while -Colonel Copley, with the aid of some seamen, seized Hull and the powder -magazine, and the Earl of Bath took Plymouth from the Earl of Huntingdon -and declared for the Prince, as did all the seaport towns in Cornwall. - -At which, the news ran, the King went to join his army at Salisbury, -having sent the Prince of Wales to Portsmouth, but afterwards returned -to Windsor upon an alarm of the approach of M. de Schomberg, and so to -London, where he found his favourite, Lord Churchill, his son-in-law, -Prince George, and his daughter, Anne, had fled to the Prince of Orange, -attended by the suspended Bishop of London, who had signed the -invitation to His Highness. Then followed news of the skirmish at -Wincanton, where some of the Prince's guards under Lieutenant Campbell -were put to the rout by the King's men, commanded by that gallant -Irishman, Patrick Sarsfield; soon the fleet, growing cold in the service -of His Majesty, sent up an address for a free parliament and the army -deserted by the regiment. - -Now the King took out of the Tower Sir Bevil Skelton, late ambassador to -Versailles, cast there for the move he had concerted with M. D'Avaux, -which if truly followed had saved the King, as he now came to say, and -so made Sir Bevil governor of the Tower and Master of the Keys of the -Kingdom. - -After which he went to Hungerford in great despair of mind, where, -advised by the Queen and the Jesuits, he sent overtures to the Prince, -offering to defer all grievances to the calling of a free parliament, -the writs for which the Lord Chancellor Jefferies had already been bid -to issue. - -The Lords Halifax, Nottingham, and Godolphin, having taken this message, -brought back an answer which was the best the King could have hoped for, -since it made only those demands which were reasonable, such as that the -Papists should be removed from office and that Tilbury Fort and the -Tower of London should be put into the hands of the Capital. - -But when they returned with these terms to Whitehall, the commissioners -found that the King, either through fearfulness or weakness, or wrought -on by the advices of M. Barillon, had taken the extraordinary -resolutions--first, of sending his wife and son to France, and secondly, -of flying London himself, leaving the government in chaos. Upon which -these three lords, perceiving they had been sent on a mock embassy, -became for ever incensed against His Majesty. He left a letter for the -commander of the army, a Frenchman, Lord Feversham, which that general -took to be an order for the disbanding of the forces, which finally put -everything into the greatest disorder. - -The next letters that came to The Hague were full of the Prince's -success against the Irish Guards at Twyford Bridge, outside the town of -Reading, and the behaviour of the multitude in London, who, as soon as -they heard of the departure of the King and the Jesuits, and the near -approach of the Prince of Orange, got together and demolished all the -new mass chapels and convents; among which was the great monastery of -St. John, which had been two years building at a great expense, but was -now burnt down and the goods seized as the monks were hurriedly -removing, besides all the timber stored in Smithfield for the finishing, -which was stacked into a bonfire and burnt at Holborn by the river -fleet. - -Likewise the chapels in Lime Street and Lincoln's Inn Fields, the -lodgings of the resident of the Duke of Florence, and Nild House, which -was the mansion of the Spanish Ambassador, were spoiled and defaced; yet -to the great credit of the English people, in all this heat and -excitement, there was not one slain or even hurt. - -To put a stop to these mischiefs, the lords who were then in London went -to the Guildhall and, having demanded the keys of the Tower from Sir -Bevil Skelton and delivered them to the Lord Lucas, they took upon -themselves the governance of the kingdom for the maintenance of order -and the prevention of bloodshed. At first they associated with -themselves the magistrates of the city, but on finding that those who -are born traders cannot contest with gentlemen in great affairs, they -used them not as their colleagues but as their servants, and gave their -orders as the King had done. - -Soon after they invited the Prince, who was now at Windsor, to London, -and the same day that he received their address he was presented with -another to the same effect from the city of London, which he accepted -with more pleasure, and let it be seen that he did; for his titles and -encouragements had always come from the people, and his enemies from the -nobles, both in his own country and England. - -To the anxious hearts at The Hague all seemed now clear for a peaceful -conclusion, when the news came that the King, having by foul weather -been cast upon the coast of Kent, was there stopped and roughly handled -by several of the common people who knew him not. - -When the governing lords heard of this they sent an express begging His -Majesty to return to London, which he did after some difficulty, and on -Sunday, being the 16th of December, entered the capital, attended by -some troops of the Life Guards and Grenadiers; and a set of boys -following him with cheers put up his spirits so that he thought he had -the people with him again. - -At this juncture he sent the Lord Feversham to His Highness at Windsor, -asking him to come to St. James's and settle matters; but His Highness -had by now perceived that no settlement of any difficulty could be -arrived at while this obstinate, foolish, and fearful King remained in -London, and, having discovered that His Majesty had no courage to resist -authority, he took a high hand, arrested the Lord Feversham for -travelling without a passport, and sent three lords to Whitehall with a -message desiring the King to retire to Ham, having first secured all the -posts and avenues about Whitehall by replacing the English guards by -Dutch. On receipt of the message the King instantly agreed, only asking -that it might be Rochester and not Ham, which desire being communicated -to the Prince by messenger (His Highness being then at Zion House), who -sent an answer by M. Bentinck that he gave his consent, only adding that -he wished His Majesty to leave early that he might not meet him on the -road. - -So the King, having with him the Earl of Arran and a few other -gentlemen, went by barge to Gravesend and so overland to Rochester, -where he lay in the house of Sir Richard Head. - -The afternoon of this day on which the King left London for ever, the -Prince and his retinue came to St. James's, the whole city shouting and -blazing in his honour. But having always hated these displays, and -despising the levity that prompted them, he drove by a back way to the -Palace, and the people got no sight of him. All the persons of quality -in town now flocked to offer their congratulations, and the city sent up -a most obliging address which His Highness very cordially received; soon -the lords and the city requested the Prince to take the government on -himself, which he did, his first act being one which gave him peculiar -satisfaction--he ordered M. Barillon to leave the kingdom in twenty-four -hours, and had him escorted to the coast by Dutch guards, which was a -severe knock to the pride of France. - -As to the affairs of the kingdom, he ordered writs to be issued for the -calling of a Convention, which was to consist of all persons who had sat -in parliament during the reign of His Majesty Charles II. - -All this was great and triumphant news to the States and the Princess. -The nobility then at The Hague came to compliment Her Highness, and -three deputies were sent from the States-General to congratulate the -Prince, and were magnificently received by the English. - -The Prince then commanded all Papists to depart out of London and -Westminster within three days, and to engage the city in his interest he -asked them for a loan, and though the security was but his bare word and -the sum he asked but a hundred thousand, they subscribed three hundred -thousand and paid it in, in so many days. - -His Majesty being gone to Windsor so as not to prejudice the meeting of -the Convention, that body came together on the 22nd of January, and -after having humbly thanked His Highness for their deliverance, prayed -him to continue to administer the government, and appointed a day of -thanksgiving, fell to considering what course they should take. - -With comparative ease they declared the throne vacant by the flight of -the King, but were not so quick in deciding who should fill it. The -Prince meanwhile kept silence, observing the same composure that he had -maintained during the whole progress of the Revolution, even hunting, -staying at private houses, and keeping out of the capital; only sending -one brief letter to the Convention, in which he prayed them to come -quickly to a decision, as there was the safety of Europe to consider. - -Despite this withdrawal of himself, this calm that he displayed in the -midst of the turmoil, he was the pivot round which all circled, the one -authority respected by all, the one defence against anarchy and -mischievous confusion. - -The English, who knew in their hearts that they could not do without -him, could by no means make up their minds what to do with him, and -soon, after their custom, split into very decided parties, which were -most violent against each other and got every day farther from a -settlement. - -At this time the news that reached The Hague was of the most astonishing -and unwelcome to the Princess, and this was the manner of her receiving -it, one day, very cold, in late January. She was riding in her chariot -in the Voorhout, reflecting on this extraordinary revolution in her -native country, and thinking of her father (who was now fled to France), -when she was accosted by M. D'Avaux, who still remained at The Hague. - -The Princess was much surprised by this, and was giving a mere formal -salute, when M. D'Avaux, with his hat clasped to his bosom, galloped up -to her open chariot in such a manner that she could do nothing but -desire it to stop. - -"Ah, Madam," said he, smiling, and very courteous, "am I to condole with -the daughter of King James or congratulate the wife of the Prince of -Orange?" - -She looked at him, very pale, but with a great majesty. - -"You are to respect a woman in an extraordinary and sad situation, -Monsieur," she answered gravely. - -"Extraordinary indeed, Your Highness," said M. D'Avaux. "But scarcely -sad to you, I think, who are like to be Queen." - -It flashed through Mary's mind how near to war they must be with France -before he could venture to speak so. - -She answered instantly-- - -"I take no public reprimand from the Ambassador of France, Monsieur." - - M. D'Avaux bowed. - -"More a congratulation, Highness, to the future sovereign of England." - -Her look of amaze was not to be concealed. His keen eyes, that never -left her face, remarked it. - -"Ah, Your Highness hath not heard the last news from England?" he asked -quietly. - -"News from England!" repeated Mary, "I hear nothing else----" - -"Then you will have heard that the Convention is for making you Queen, -Madam," he answered, "which perhaps is not quite the consummation His -Highness desired." - -Mary gazed at him a second, then made a motion with her gloved hand to -the coachman. - -"It is cold to keep the horses waiting," she said, and so drove on. - -Cold indeed, and the snow beginning to fall in heavy flakes across the -straight fronts of the noble houses in the Voorhout; the people of -quality gathered there on horseback and on foot began to scatter before -the chilly wind and slow darkness. The Princess shuddered inside her -fur coat, and drove back to the 'huis ten bosch.' - -As she passed down the gaunt avenues of bare trees overshadowing frozen -water and frozen ground, showing between their dark trunks glimpses of a -pale February sunset fast being blotted out by the thick snow clouds, -she felt to her very heart the awful desolation of approaching change, -the wild regret for a happy period closed, the unnameable loneliness -which assailed her when she considered how she was being caught up and -hurried into a whirl of events foreign and distasteful. - -When she reached home she asked for her letters; but evidently the -packet that had brought M. D'Avaux his had none for her. She made no -comment, but played basset awhile with Lady Sunderland, went early to -her prayers, then wept herself to sleep. - - - - - CHAPTER XVII - - FAREWELL TO HOLLAND - - -Soon after the Groote Kerk had struck midnight, one of the Princess's -Dutch ladies came to the chamber of her mistress with the news that -letters from England had come, it being the command of Mary that she -should always be roused, whatever the hour, when the mail arrived. - -She came out now, in her undress--a muslin nightshift with an overgown -of laycock, and with her hair, which was one of her principal beauties, -freed from the stiff dressing of the day and hanging about her -shoulders--into the little anteroom of her bedchamber, where the candles -had been hastily lit and the tiled stove that burnt day and night -stirred and replenished. - -There were two letters. She had no eyes save for that addressed in the -large careless hand of the Prince, and tore it open standing under the -branched sconce, where the newly-lit candles gave a yet feeble light -from hard wax and stiff wick, while the Dutch lady, excited and silent, -opened the front of the stove and poked the bright sea coals. - -The Princess, who had waited long for this letter, owing to the -ice-blocked river, was sharply disappointed at the briefness of it; the -Prince requested her to make ready to come at once to England, as her -presence was desired by the Convention, told her what to say to the -States, and remarked that the hunting at Windsor was poor indeed -compared to that of Guelders. - -Mary laid the letter down. - -"I must go to England, Wendela," she said to her lady; then sat silent a -little, while the candles burnt up to a steady glow that filled the room -with a fluttering light of gold. - -"Is my Lady Sunderland abed?" asked Mary presently. - -"No, Madam; she was playing cards when I came up." - -"Will you send her to me, Wendela?" - -The lady left the room and Mary noticed the other letter, which she had -completely forgotten. She took it up and observed that the writing was -strange; she broke the seals and drew nearer the candles, for her eyes, -never strong, were now blurred by recent tears. - -The first words, after the preamble of compliments, took her with -amazement. She glanced quickly to the signature, which was that of Lord -Danby, then read the letter word for word, while her colour rose and her -breath came sharply. - -When she had finished, with an involuntary passionate gesture and an -involuntary passionate exclamation, she dashed the letter down on the -lacquer bureau. - -Lady Sunderland, at this moment entering, beheld an expression on the -face of the Princess which she had never thought to see there--an -expression of sparkling anger. - -"Ill news from England, Highness?" she asked swiftly. - -"The worst news in the world for me," answered Mary. Then she cried, -"This is what M. D'Avaux meant!" - -The Countess raised her beautiful eyes. She was very fair in rose-pink -silk and lace, her appearance gave no indication of misfortune, but in -her heart was always the sharp knowledge that she was an exile playing a -game, the stake of which was the greatness, perhaps the life, of her -husband. - -"What news, Highness?" she questioned gently. - -Mary was too inflamed to be reserved, and, despite the vast difference -in their natures, a great closeness had sprung up between her and the -Countess during these weeks of waiting. - -"They wish to make me Queen," she said, with quivering lips, "to the -exclusion of the Prince. My Lord Danby, whom I never liked, is leading -a party in the Convention, and he saith will have his way----" - -Lady Sunderland was startled. - -"What doth His Highness say?" - -"Nothing of that matter--how should he? But he would never take that -place that would be dependent on my courtesy--he!" She laughed -hysterically. "What doth my lord mean?--what can he think of me? I, -Queen, and the Prince overlooked?--am I not his wife? And they know my -mind. I told Dr. Burnet, when he meddled in this matter, that I had -sworn obedience to the Prince and meant to keep those vows----" - -She paused, breathless and very angry; her usual vivacity had changed to -a blazing passion that reminded Lady Sunderland of those rare occasions -when His late Majesty had been roused. - -"My lord meant to serve you," she said. - -"To serve me!" repeated Mary, "when he is endeavouring to stir up this -division between me and the Prince--making our interests different----" - -"You are nearer the throne, Highness----" - -Mary interrupted impatiently-- - -"What is that compared to what the Prince hath done for England? Can -they think," she added, with a break in her voice, "that I would have -done this--gone against--His Majesty--for a crown--for anything save my -duty to my husband? What must _he_ think of me--these miserable -intrigues----" - -She flung herself into the red brocade chair in front of the cabinet, -and caught up the offending letter. - -"Yet," she continued, with a flash of triumph, "this will give me a -chance to show them--where my duty lieth----" - -She took up her pen, and Lady Sunderland came quickly to the desk. - -"What do you mean to do?" she asked curiously. - -"I shall write to my lord, tell him my deep anger, and send his letter -and a copy of mine to the Prince." - -Lady Sunderland laid her hand gently on Mary's shoulder. - -"Think a little----" - -Mary lifted flashing eyes. - -"Why should I think?" - -"This is a crown you put aside so lightly!" - -The Princess smiled wistfully. - -"I should be a poor fool to risk what I have for a triple crown!" - -"Still--wait--see," urged the Countess; "'tis the crown of England that -my lord offereth----" - -"Do you think that anything to me compared to the regard of the Prince?" -asked Mary passionately. "I thought that you would understand. Can you -picture him as my pensioner--him! It is laughable, when my whole life -hath been one submission to his will. Oh, you must see that he is -everything in the world to me ... I have no one else----" She continued -speaking rapidly, almost incoherently, as was her fashion when greatly -moved. "At first I thought he would never care, but now he doth; but he -is not meek, and I might lose it all--all this happiness that hath been -so long a-coming. Oh, I will write such a letter to my lord!" - -"You sacrifice a good deal for the Prince," said the Countess half -sadly. - -"Why," answered Mary, "this is easier than going against my father, and -giving the world cause to scorn me as an unnatural daughter----" - -Her lips quivered, but she set them proudly. - -"I have talked enough on this matter, God forgive me, but I was angered -by this lord's impertinence." - -The Countess made some movement to speak, but Mary checked her. - -"No more of this, my Lady Sunderland," she said firmly. She took a sheet -of paper from the bureau and began to write. - -Lady Sunderland moved to the stove and watched her intently and with -some curiosity. The wife of my late Lord President was tolerably well -informed in English politics, and knew that the Tories would rather have -the daughter than the nephew of the Stewarts on the throne, and that the -great bulk of the general nobility would rather have a woman like the -Princess than a man like the Prince to rule them. - -She did not doubt that Mary, with her nearer claim, her English name and -blood, would readily be accepted by the English as Queen, and that the -nation would be glad to retain the services of her husband at the price -of some title, such as Duke of Gloucester--which had been proposed for -him before--and whatever dignity Mary chose to confer on him. She -certainly thought that this scheme, pleasing as it might be to Whig and -Tory, showed a lack of observation of character on the part of the -originator, my Lord Danby; Lord Sunderland had always declared that it -was the Prince they needed, not his wife, and that they would never -obtain him save for the highest price--the crown. - -Yet the Countess, standing in this little room, watching Mary writing -with the candlelight over her bright hair and white garments, seeing her -calmly enclose to the Prince Lord Danby's letter and a copy of her -answer, could not help some wonder that this young woman--a Stewart, and -born to power and gaiety--should so lightly and scornfully put aside a -crown--the crown of England. - -When Mary had finished her letters and sealed them, she rose and came -also to the stove. She looked very grave. - -"The Prince saith not one word of our losses," she remarked--"Madame -Bentinck, I mean, and M. Fagel, yet both must have touched him nearly. -I am sorry for M. Bentinck, who hath had no time to grieve." - -"What will happen in England now, Highness?" asked the Countess, -thinking of the Earl. - -"I suppose," said Mary, breathing quickly, "they will offer the Prince -the throne ... he commandeth my presence in England ... I must leave -Holland----" - -"You love the country?" - -"Better than my own. I was not made for great affairs. I love this -quiet life--my houses here, the people..." - -She broke off quickly. - -"What will you do, Madam?" - -Lady Sunderland indeed wondered. - -"Go join my lord in Amsterdam," she answered half recklessly. "An exile -remains an exile." - -"The Prince," said Mary gravely, "hath some debt to my lord. He never -forgetteth his friends--or those who serve him." - -"I thank you for that much comfort, Madam." - -"You must return to England--to Althorp," continued the Princess gently; -"you have done nothing that you should stay abroad----" - -Lady Sunderland shook her head. - -"What is Althorp to me, God help me! I think my home is in Amsterdam--I -shall go there when Your Highness leaveth for England." - -Mary put her cool hand over the slim fingers of the Countess that rested -on the back of the high walnut chair. - -"Are you going with Basilea de Marsac?" - -"Yes; she is a good soul." - -"A Catholic," said Mary, with a little frown; "but I like her -too--better than I did----" - -"She hath become very devoted to Your Highness; she is very lonely." - -"What was her husband?" - -Lady Sunderland smiled. - -"An incident." - -Mary smiled too, then moved back to the bureau. - -"I must get back to bed; I have a sore throat which I must nurse." She -coughed, and moistened her lips. "I am as hoarse as a town-crier." She -laughed again unsteadily and rang the silver bell before her. "I never -pass a winter without a swelled face or a sore throat." - -The Dutch waiting lady entered, and Mary gave her the letters. - -"See that they go at the earliest--and, Wendela, you look tired, get to -bed immediately." - -With no more than this she sent off her refusal of three kingdoms. When -they were alone again she rose and suddenly embraced Lady Sunderland. - -"Do you think I shall come back to Holland?" she asked under her breath. - -"Why--surely----" - -"Ah, I know not." She loosened her arms and sank on to the stool near -the stove. "Sometimes I feel as if the sands were running out of me. -You know," she smiled wistfully, "I have an unfortunate name; the last -Mary Stewart, the Prince his mother, was not thirty when she died--of -smallpox." - -She was silent, and something in her manner held Lady Sunderland silent -too. - -"A terrible thing to die of," added Mary, after a little. "I often -think of it; when you are young it must be hard, humanly speaking, but -God knoweth best." - -"I wonder why you think of that now?" asked Lady Sunderland gently. - -"I wonder! We must go to bed ... this is marvellous news we have had -to-night ... to know that I must sail when the ice breaketh ... good -night, my Lady Sunderland." - -The Countess took her leave and Mary put out the candles, which left the -room only illumed by the steady glow from the white, hot heart of the -open stove. - -Mary drew the curtains from the tall window and looked out. - -It was a clear frosty night, utterly silent; the motionless branches of -the trees crossed and interlaced into a dense blackness, through which -the stars glimmered suddenly, and suddenly seemed to disappear. - -The chimes of the Groote Kerk struck the half-hour, and the echoes dwelt -in the silence tremblingly. - -Mary dropped the curtain and walked about the room a little. Then she -went to the still open desk and took up the remaining letter--that of -the Prince. - -With it in her hand she stood thoughtful, thinking of her father in -France, of all the extraordinary changes and chances which had brought -her to this situation, face to face with a dreaded difference from -anything she had known. - -She went on her knees presently, and rested her head against the stool, -worked by her own fingers in a design of beads and wool, and put the -letter against her cheek, and desperately tried to pray and forget -earthly matters. - -But ever between her and peace rose the angry, tragic face of her father -and the stern face of her husband confronting each other, and a -background of other faces--the mocking, jeering faces of the -world--scorning her as one who had wronged her father through lust of -earthly greatness. - - - - - CHAPTER XVIII - - BY THE GRACE OF GOD - - -The Princess's boat, with her escort of Dutch warships, rode in the -Thames at last. The frost had broken, and she arrived not long after -her letter to Lord Danby had scattered that statesman's party, and -frustrated his hopes of placing her on the throne. The Prince having -soon after declared his mind to the lords in council, that he would -accept no position dependent on his wife's pleasure or the life of -another (for there had been talk of a regency, leaving the King the -nominal title), made it clear that if his services were to be retained, -if he was not to abandon them to the confusion, strife, and disaster -from which his presence alone saved them, he must be King. All parties -uniting, then, on what was now proved to be the winning side, the -Convention voted the offer of the crown to the Prince and Princess -jointly--the sole administration to rest with him. - -The succession, after naming the direct line, was left vague to please -the Prince, who was free to flatter himself that he could choose his own -heir. - -This news had come to Mary before she left The Hague, and she knew that -the day after her landing there would be a formal offering and -acceptance of the crown of Great Britain. She beheld the prospect with -extraordinary sensations as, passing Gravesend, and leaving her vessel -and escort at Greenwich, she proceeded in a state barge to the more -familiar reaches of the river, Rotherhithe, Wapping, and presently the -Tower, rising golden grey in the chill spring sunshine, by the bridge -with the deep crazy arches through which the water poured in dangerous -rapids. Crowded with houses was this old bridge, and in the centre a -little chapel with a bell, now ringing joyfully. - -Mary remembered it all--the long busy wharves, now taking holiday; the -barges, boats, and compact shipping now hung with flags; Galley Key, -where the slaves in chains unlade the oranges, silks, and spices from -the East; the houses, on the side of Surrey, among which rose the spire -of the great church at Southwark; the merchants' houses built down to -the water's edge, with pleasant gardens filled with poplar trees and set -with the figureheads of ships in which some adventurer had sailed his -early travels long ago in the time of Elizabeth Tudor; and the distant -prospect of the city itself shimmering now under an early haze of -sunshine. - -All was utterly strange, yet nothing was altered; it looked the same as -when, weeping to leave England, she had come down these waters in a -barge with her silent husband, ten years ago, and waited at Gravesend -for the wind. - -One difference attracted Mary's eyes. Behind and beyond the Tower a -mass of scaffolding rose that dominated the whole city, and through the -crossed poles, boards, and ropes, she could discern the majestic outline -of the dome of that vast church which had been slowly rising out of the -ashes of the old St. Paul's since she was a child. - -At the Tower Wharf she landed, laughing hysterically, and hardly knowing -what she did. They gave her a royal salute of cannon, and she saw all -the guards drawn up in squares, with their spears in the midst, and a -red way of brocade carpet laid down for her, and a coach with white -horses and running footmen, and beyond, a press of noblemen and -officers, and the sheriffs and aldermen of the city with the Lord Mayor. - -She hesitated on the gangway, amidst her ladies, her spirit completely -overwhelmed. She looked round desperately for some one to whom to -say--"I cannot do it--I cannot put it through. I must die, but I cannot -be Queen." - -The complete incomprehension on the excited faces of these ladies, the -strangeness of many of them, recalled her with a shock to herself; she -felt as if she had been on the point of betraying her husband. She -recalled his last letter, in which he had asked her to show no grief or -hesitation in her manner, and, biting her lips fiercely, she stepped -firmly on to English soil, and managed somehow to respond to the lowly -salutations of the crowd pressing to receive her. The Prince was by the -coach door; she noticed that he wore his George and garter, which he had -not done perhaps twice before. There were a great many gentlemen behind -him, many of them those whom she had already met at The Hague, others -strange to her, several of the Dutch officers, and M. Bentinck in -mourning for his wife. - -Mary, still English enough to think her country the finest in the world, -was thrilled with pleasure to see how respectfully all these great -nobles held themselves to the Prince. She was used to see him receive -this homage in his own country and from the magnates of the Empire, but -these Englishmen were to her more than any German princes. - -The Prince took her hand and kissed it, and said very quickly in Dutch-- - -"I would that this had been in Holland." - -The English gentlemen bowed till their long perukes touched their knees, -Mary entered the coach with Lady Argyll and a Dutch lady, the Prince -mounted his white horse, and the cavalcade started through the expectant -city with all that pomp which the people would not forgo and the Prince -to-day could not avoid. - -All London was eager for a sight of the Princess. The last Queen, -foreign, proud Romanist, and hard, had never been a favourite, the Queen -Dowager had never counted for anything, and was now a forgotten figure -in Somerset House; but Mary was English, Protestant, and her image had -long been faithfully cherished in England as that of a native Princess -who would some day restore the old faith. Therefore her greeting was -such as made her turn pale; she had never before heard such thunders of -acclamation, popular as she was in the United Provinces. - -Every road, every housetop, all the windows, alleys, and turnings were -filled with well-dressed, orderly people, who cheered her and cheered -the Prince till Mary felt dizzy. She saw in this their true title to -the crown; the lords were but obeying the people in setting it on their -heads, and she recalled how these same Londoners had besieged the doors -of Westminster Hall, while the Convention was sitting, and threatened to -use violence if the Prince was not elected King. - -Her appearance of beautiful youth, her sparkling excitement, her -gracious smiles made a favourable impression, and further roused the -enthusiasm which the very stiff demeanour of the Prince, to whom this -display was hateful, was apt to damp. - -By the time they reached Whitehall she was more popular than he, and the -nobles who rode in the procession thought to themselves that the English -wife would serve to keep the foreign husband in the affections of the -people. - -Whitehall was filled with English, Dutch, and Scotch waiting to kiss her -hand: Mr. Sidney was there, Mr. Herbert, Mr. Russell, Lord Shrewsbury, -Lord Devonshire, Lord Halifax, Lord Godolphin, Lord Danby, and others -whom she did not know or had forgotten; their background was that -splendid palace, seeming vast and magnificent indeed after her houses in -Holland, which she had left so sadly ten years ago. Then she had wept, -now she laughed and was very gracious, but in her heart she was as -reluctant to enter Whitehall as she had ever been to leave it; the -memories the place aroused were poignant, not sweet. - -It was three hours before she found herself alone with the Prince in -that gorgeous little chamber that had once been her father's, and still -contained his pictures, statues, his monogram and arms on chairs and -carvings. - -The instant he had closed the door the Prince kissed her in silence, and -she burst into speech. - -"Are you satisfied? Are you pleased? Is this another step in your -task--they--these people--will they help? How long the time hath -seemed!" - -"To me also," said the Prince unsteadily. - -She stepped back to look at him anxiously: he was extravagantly vestured -in embroidered scarlet, lace, jewels, the George and garter conspicuous, -and a great star of diamonds on his breast. A close scrutiny showed -that he looked more ill and weary than she had ever known him. - -"You are changed," she said quickly. "Oh, my dear, the climate doth not -suit you----" - -He smiled languidly. - -"I would we had met in Holland," he answered. "I am sick for Holland, -Marie." - -"Already?" - -He seated himself in the deep window-seat that overlooked the privy -garden and she took the low stool beside, studying him wistfully for one -hint of that enthusiasm and elation which she hoped would be called -forth by his splendid success. - -"We could not have asked God for a more happy ending," she said in a -trembling voice. - -"They--the English--will declare against France," he answered, but -without spirit, and as if it was an effort to speak at all. "If I could -get them into the field this spring----" He was interrupted by his -cough, which was violent and frequent, and he flung the window open -impatiently. "There is no air in this place," he continued, in a -gasping voice; "their smoky chimneys and their smells are killing me; I -cannot endure London." - -"We need not live here," said Mary quickly. - -"They think so," he returned; "'tis our post, where we are paid to -be----" - -The scarcely concealed bitterness with which he spoke of England was a -matter of amaze and terror to Mary, in whose ears still rang the -enthusiastic shouts of the people and the flatteries of the courtiers. - -"But you are popular----" she began. - -"Hosanna to-day, and to-morrow crucify!" he answered. "I shall not long -be popular--the great lords have not loved me from the first. They -offer me the throne because there is no other to serve their turn, and I -take it because it is the only way to secure them against France. But I -undertake hard service, Marie." - -"You mean--the difficulties?" - -"The difficulties! I confess I am overwhelmed by them; everything is -confusion--everything! To get the bare Government on a business footing -would take a year's hard work, saying every one was honest--and every -one is corrupt. I can trust none of them. There is Ireland in a -ferment and the Scottish affairs in a tangle; there are a hundred -different parties, with indecipherable politics, waiting to fly at each -other's throats; the Church is hydra-headed with factions--and a cow -might as well be set to catch a hare as I set to put this straight, and -I have had the business of Europe to conduct already." - -Mary's pride and pleasure were utterly dashed. Troubles and -difficulties she had been prepared for, but they had been vague and -distant; she had not thought to find the Prince already whelmed in them. -She reflected swiftly on the anxiety, labour, and anguish that had gone -to this expedition, the odium they had both incurred, the violence she -had done her own feelings, and she wondered desperately if it had been -worth the price. - -The Prince took her hand, having noticed the paling of her face and the -distress in her eyes. - -"We will talk of other things," he said, with an effort over his tired -voice. "I am weak to burden you at once with this; you at least will be -beloved here----" - -Mary broke in passionately-- - -"I do not love England--nor want to be Queen. I doubt I can do it--I -was made for little things and peace--I hate this palace," she glanced -desperately round her father's splendour; "our own homes--where we were -so happy--are they not better?" - -The Prince went very pale. - -"I should not have repined," he said; "it is my task, which I must put -through ... the part you have been made to take is the worst for me--the -part you may have to take----" - -"If it serveth you I am very content," she answered; "if I can do -anything to help I shall be happy----" - -The tears sprang into the Prince's eyes. He looked away out of the -window. - -"Marie--about His late Majesty--I could not help--that he was stopped in -Kent ... I would not have had it happen----" - -"Do not fear," she answered wildly, "that I do not in everything hold -you justified?" - -Her voice broke, and she began to weep. - -The Prince rose and helped her to her feet. - -"We must not show tears here," he said gently, "for we are not at -home--but among many enemies----" - -She dried her eyes and smiled bravely. - -"Do we feel constraint so soon?" - -"We pay something," he said sadly, "that we are, by the grace of God, -Monarchs of England." - - - - - PART II - - THE QUEEN - - -"I have really hardly had time to say my prayers, and was feign to run -away to Kensington, where I had three hours of quiet, which was more -than I had had together since I saw you. - -"That place made me think how happy I was there when I had your dear -company; but now--I will say no more, for I shall hurt my own eyes, -which I now want more than ever. - -"Adieu! Think of me and love me as much as I shall you, who I love more -than my life."--QUEEN MARY TO KING WILLIAM, 15*th July* 1690. - -"Every hour maketh me more impatient to hear from you, and everything I -hear stir I think bringeth me a letter.... I have stayed till I am -almost asleep in hopes; but they are vaine, and I must once more go to -bed and wished to be waked with a letter, which I shall at last get, I -hope ... adieu! Do but love me and I can bear anything."--QUEEN MARY TO -KING WILLIAM, _July_ 1690. - ---"My poor heart is ready to break every time I think in what perpetual -danger you are; I am in greater fears than can be imagined by any who -loves less than myself. - -"I count the hours and the moments, and have only reason left to -think--as long as I have no letters all is well.... I never do anything -without thinking--now, it may be, you are in the greatest dangers, and -yet I must see company on my set days; I must play twice a week; nay, I -must laugh and talk, tho' never so much against my will. I believe that -I dissemble very ill to those who know me; at least it is a great -constraint to myself, yet I must endure it. All my movements are so -watched, and all I do so observed, that if I eat less, speak less, or -look more grave, all is lost in the opinion of the world; so that I have -this misery added to that of your absence and my fears for your dear -person, that I must grin when my heart is ready to break, and talk when -my heart is so oppressed I can scarce breathe.... Besides, I must hear -of business, which, being a thing I am so new in and so unfit for, doth -but break my brains the more and not ease my heart.... - -"Farewell! Do but continue to love me and forgive the taking up so much -of your time to your poor wife, who deserves more pity than ever any -creature did, and who loves you a great deal too much for her own ease, -tho' it can't be more than you deserve."--QUEEN MARY TO KING WILLIAM, -5*th September* 1690. - - - - CHAPTER I - - A DARK DAWNING - - -In the King's antechamber at Kensington House my Lord Dorset and one of -his pensioners (of which he had a many) awaited an audience of His -Majesty. - -It was a year since the Revolution, a cold-wet autumn, and Kensington -House, recently bought from my Lord Nottingham, stood blank and sad -among dripping wet trees. - -Lord Dorset strolled to the window and looked out on the great park -spreading to the horizon. He, in common with every other Englishman, -found both house and grounds an ill substitute for Whitehall, where the -King would never go when not forced, spending his time at Hampton Court, -Holland House, or here, in this half-built villa, still disfigured with -the scaffolding poles of the alterations Mr. Wren was putting in hand. -Lord Dorset sighed; he was a tolerant, sweet-natured man, more -interested in art than politics; he had been magnificent as Lord -Buckhurst, and was more magnificent as Marquess and holder of the office -of Lord Chamberlain. - -Presently the Lords Shrewsbury and Nottingham came out of the King's -Cabinet; the first looked downcast, the second sour. - -Dorset lifted his eyebrows at Shrewsbury, who said dolefully as he -passed-- - -"Good God! we are like to get on the rocks--nothing is right." - -When the two Secretaries of State had passed, Lord Dorset remarked to -his young companion, with a kind of good-natured softness-- - -"You see--I have brought you to Court in an ill time; perchance I had -best not press for an audience to-day----" - -But even as he spoke the door of the Cabinet opened and the King came -out. - -He stood for a second in the doorway, looking at the few gentlemen -standing about the bare, large room; then his glance fell on Lord -Dorset, who moved forward with his splendid air of grace. - -"Is it the wrong moment to present to the notice of Your Majesty the -young poet of whom I spoke yesterday?" - -The King's large open eyes turned to the pale and agitated young man in -question, who instantly went on his knees. - -"A poet?" repeated William; the word to him conveyed a mild, but -scarcely harmless madness. He thought the patronage of these people an -irritating trait in his Lord Chamberlain. "Have we not already poets in -our Court?" - -Lord Dorset smiled. - -"This poet, sir, is also a very good Protestant, and one who did much -service in writing of satires----" - -"We have always uses for a clever pen," said William, in whose own -country the printing press was a powerful political engine. He turned -gravely to the young man-- - -"What is your name?" - -"Matthew Prior, Your Majesty." - -"You wish a post about the Court, Mr. Prior?" - -The aspirant lifted sincere and ardent eyes. - -"I have desired all my life to serve Your Majesty," he answered, which -was true enough, for he cherished an almost romantical admiration for -William. - -"My Lord Dorset," said the King, "is a fine guarantee for any man; we -will find some place for you----" He cut short protestations of -gratitude by saying, "You must not expect us to read your poems, Mr. -Prior." - -"Your Majesty was ever severe on that art," smiled Lord Dorset. - -"I do not understand it," said William simply; but the Lord Chamberlain -had a fine enough perception to discern that there had been more poetry -in the actions of the King's life than ever Matthew Prior could get on -paper. He took the following silence for dismissal, and withdrew with -his grateful pensioner. - -The King drew out his watch, glanced at it, and called up one of the -ushers at the further doors. - -"When Lord Halifax arriveth bid him come at once to us." - -He hesitated a moment, looking at the sombre prospect of grey and rain -to be seen through the long windows, then returned to his private room -and closed the door. - -A wood fire burnt between two brass andirons and filled the plain closet -with warmth, above the walnut bureau hung a map of the United Provinces, -and on the high mantelshelf stood several ornaments and vases in -blue-and-white delft. - -The King seated himself in the red damask covered chair before the desk, -and mechanically took up the quill that lay before him; but presently it -fell from his fingers and he leant back in his seat, staring at the map -of his country. - -Since his coronation in April last, nay, since his first assuming the -government a year ago, everything had gone wrong, and he had been blamed -for it; nothing could exaggerate the difficulties of his position. He -had partially expected them, for he was not naturally sanguine, but his -worst imaginings had fallen short of the actual happenings. - -Affairs had now reached a crisis. In England, Scotland, and Ireland was -a deadlock, on the Continent imminent peril, and the King, for the first -time in his life, doubted his own capacity to deal with such huge -obstacles as those which confronted and threatened to overwhelm him. - -Sitting utterly still, he mentally faced the task before him. - -He believed that to fail utterly was impossible, since that would be to -deny the teaching of his own soul, and so, God; but he might fail -partially, and he might, even in winning a small measure of success, -forfeit tremendous stakes. - -The loss of personal ease, of his popularity in England, a complete -misunderstanding of his motives, the rancorous, malicious hate of his -enemies--these things he had, from the moment of his coronation, been -prepared for; but it might be that he would be called upon to make -vaster sacrifices--the friendship of many former supporters, even their -long-cherished love and loyalty, the trust and confidence of the allies, -the admiration of the dissenting churches throughout Europe, even his -own peace of soul. Everything in brief, that he valued, save the love -of Mary and the friendship of William Bentinck, must be pledged, and -might be lost in this forthcoming conflict. - -He had honestly and justly tried to satisfy the English, but had met -with utter failure. They reproached--reviled him, complained, and -loudly voiced their dissatisfaction; he had not pleased one of those who -had placed him on the throne. The chaotic state of the Government -might, to a superficial observer, appear to give some warrant for their -discontent; but, as the King cynically observed to himself, they were -incapable of even suggesting a remedy for the ills they so decried; he -did everything, and Whig and Tory alike agreed in putting all burdens on -his shoulders, then in blaming his administration. - -In the crisis of '88 their action had been oblique. They had shifted -the almost intolerable confusion of affairs into his hands, then stood -back to watch and criticise, while he, who had already the business of -half Europe on his mind, made what order he could out of jarring chaos. -His health had broken under the strain; even his friends noticed a new -languor in him, which the English were quick to dub sloth. Deprived of -his one recreation of hunting--for which he had no time--hardly able to -endure the stenches and smoke of London, his reserved temper taxed -almost beyond bearing by the incessant, unreasonable, shortsighted -quarrelling by which he was surrounded, he felt his strength slipping -like water through his hands. - -His popularity had gone as he had predicted it would. The Jacobites -were already a tremendously strong party, and his own ministers were -half of them already beginning to traffic with the exiled King--who was -now in Ireland with French troops, and of whom it had been said that, -would he but change his religion, he could not be kept out of England -six weeks. - -William, reviewing his position, smiled at the shallow taunts that -accused him of having thirsted for a crown. - -He was working like a galley-slave for England--working with -insufficient money, false servants, unfriendly onlookers, and an -apathetic nation ready to seize on frivolous pretexts to dub him -unpopular--and his reward for labours, that perhaps not one of his -subjects had any conception of, was the nominal dignity of kingship and -the long-fought-for alliance of England with the States. - -He was certainly paying a bitter price. - -All the great nobles were dissatisfied. The King had a keen dislike of -party, and his ideal of government was a cabinet comprising of the best -men of every faction to advise a ruler free to decide the final issue of -every question. He had tried this scheme in England, equally honouring -Whig and Tory, and taking his ministers from the rival ranks. - -The plan had been an utter failure; each faction wanted the supreme -control. The Whigs wanted the King to become their champion, and avenge -them indiscriminately on every Tory; the Tories, who had always been -opposed to William, refused to work with the Whigs; Danby, created -Marquess of Caermarthen at the Coronation, was furious because he had -not the privy seals; Halifax, to whom they had been given, grudged Danby -the Marquisate; the two Secretaries, Shrewsbury and Nottingham, were -scarcely on speaking terms; Russell, now Lord Orford, and Herbert, now -Lord Torrington, quarrelled fiercely over the naval affairs; at the -Treasury Board, Lord Mordaunt, now Earl of Monmouth and Lord Delamere, -both hot Whigs, did their best to disparage their colleague, Lord -Godolphin, who, of all the Government, was the quietest man and the one -most esteemed by the King; Clarendon, the Queen's uncle, had refused to -take the oaths; and his brother Rochester was suspected of plotting with -James. There was, in fact, scarcely one Englishman, even among those -who had accompanied William to England, whom he could trust, yet the -advancement and favour he showed his Dutch friends was made the matter -for perpetual and noisy complaint. - -On the other hand, the Church of England, which owed its very existence -to the Revolution, proved itself unreasonable and ungrateful; it refused -stubbornly to grant any concessions to Non-conformists, and wished -severe penalties visited on the Papists. - -Added to this, the home government was rotten to the core, the army and -navy in a miserable state, the people overtaxed, business disorganised, -the treasury empty, credit low, every one discontented, Ireland in the -possession of James, a revolt in Scotland, and, on the Continent, the -French making unchecked progress, and the Dutch beginning to complain -that they were being neglected for the English. - -When it is considered that the man who was to face and overcome these -difficulties was disliked, distrusted, misunderstood, and betrayed on -every hand, it can be no wonder that even his brave soul was drooping. - -His position was in every way complex. By nature imperious, arrogant, -of the proudest blood in Europe, he had a high idea of the kingly -prerogative, and by instinct leant to the Tories; but the Whigs claimed -him as peculiarly their champion, and it was undoubtedly to their -influence that the Revolution was due. As King of England he was head -of the Anglican Church and swore to uphold it; but he was a Calvinist -himself, and the whole tenor of his life had been towards that broad -toleration which the Church regarded with abhorrence. He was avowedly -latitudinarian and set his face resolutely against any form of -persecution for religious belief, and while this attitude cost him the -support of the Church, his refusal to treat the Catholics harshly lost -him the alliance of the Dissenters, who regarded him as disappointingly -lukewarm in the true cause. - -A gentle treatment of the Papists was essential to William's foreign -policy, since he had promised his Catholic allies--Spain, the Emperor, -and the Pope, to protect those of this persuasion--and it was, besides, -his own conviction of justice and the general good. He had therefore -forced through Parliament the Toleration Act, which was, however, too -limited to heal the internecine disorders of religious parties; he had -then endeavoured to bridge the schism between Nonconformists and -Anglicans by the Comprehension Bill, but the measure was before its time -and failed to pass. - -Many of the bishops and clergy having refused to take the oaths and been -obliged to resign, William had been forced to make new appointments, -every one of which, including that of his chaplain, Dr. Burnet, to -Sarum, caused universal dissatisfaction. - -There had been a mutiny in the army which had to be repressed by Dutch -troops--a further grievance to the English, who began to bitterly resent -foreign soldiers in their midst; yet on these troops alone could the -King rely. - -William's lieutenant, the popular and brilliant Schomberg, had proved an -expensive failure. He was at present in Ireland, with a huge army dying -of fever about him, doing nothing but writing maddening letters of -complaint to the King, who had, on the other hand, to listen to the -ceaseless goadings of the English Parliament, who wished to know why -Ireland was not reduced, and, until that plague spot was attended to, -who refused to turn their attention to the Continent, where the great -events gathered that were ever next William's heart. - -Those were the great difficulties, but there were many smaller -vexations, such as the party the Princess Anne, under the influence of -those adventurers--the Churchills--was forming against the Court; the -sulky, unreasonable behaviour of Lord Torrington at the Admiralty Board; -the constant necessity the King was under of going to London (the air of -which was literally death to him), and of dining in public at -Whitehall--a practice he detested; the lack of money for the buildings -at Hampton Court and Kensington, which were both in an uncomfortable -state of incompletion; his own ignorance on little technical points of -administration and costume, which made him dependent on his English -advisers--all these were added annoyances and humiliations that went far -to unman a nature well inured to strenuous difficulties. - -The King made a little movement forward in his chair with a short cough, -as if he caught his breath, his eyes still fixed on the map of the -United Provinces; his haggard face slightly flushed as if he was moved -by some intense thought. - -The latch clicked, and William turned his head quickly. - -In the doorway was the handsome figure of the tolerant, able, and -cynical chief adviser to the Crown, the Lord Privy Seal, my Lord -Marquess Halifax. - - - - - CHAPTER II - - THE KING AT BAY - - -My Lord Marquess left His Majesty after a dry and formal interview -concerned with minor but necessary business, and, leaving the King still -sitting before the map of the United Provinces, proceeded to the -incomplete and ill-furnished council-chamber, where my lords Shrewsbury, -Caermarthen, Nottingham, and Godolphin were gloomily conferring. - -Halifax was the only man in the assembly not of decided Whig or Tory -politics--it was believed that this was the reason that the King had -elected him to fill the highest place in his councils. Lord -Caermarthen, who, jealous of his elevation, was known to be secretly -working his downfall, greeted him with haughty frankness. - -"I hope, my lord," he said, "your interview with His Majesty hath had -some smack of satisfaction in it----" - -"Why, none," answered the Lord Privy Seal; "there is no satisfaction -anywhere." - -He seated himself on one of the red damask covered stools by the table, -and looked with a kind of cynical amusement at the other ministers, all -of whom, he well knew, were, however diverse their several opinions -(with the exception of Lord Godolphin), doing their utmost to oust him -from the position he held. His mobile, easy, and delicate face was -turned towards the meagre but noble figure of Caermarthen, in whom he -recognised his chief enemy. Indeed, that statesman, who, as Lord Danby, -had himself narrowly escaped the attacks of Jack Howe in the last -Parliament, was endeavouring to stir up the present Commons to impeach -Halifax. - -"His Majesty," added the Lord Privy Seal, in his pleasant, tolerant -voice, "is very discontented with all of us." - -Shrewsbury--a duke now, and crowded with dignities beyond his -years--blushed. - -"What are we to do?" he asked, in a kind of frantic way. - -The other Secretary, Nottingham, dark as a Spaniard and sour in -expression, remarked briefly-- - -"We can do nothing until we see which way the Parliament moveth." - -"The Parliament," said Caermarthen, "will do nothing until some -satisfaction is given for the money voted to Ireland. Schomberg, I -doubt, is doited; he hath not moved since he landed----" - -"The King," put in Halifax, "is desperate to go to the Continent, where -the allies clamour for him and King Louis gaineth headway every -week----" - -Caermarthen sprang up from the window-seat. - -"By God, he cannot go abroad until Ireland is settled!" he cried; "the -country will not stand any war but that----" - -"The King," answered the Lord Privy Seal, "hath such a mind to France -one would think he took England but on the way----" - -"France," said Shrewsbury, with feverish anxiety, "is not the question; -we have to think of England. War was declared last May, and we are -still incapable of putting a single regiment in the field. By Heaven, -the Government is too disjointed for us to interfere in foreign -affairs!" - -"You should have thought of that, my lord," answered Nottingham dryly, -"when you put a foreigner on the throne." - -A deep colour again flushed Shrewsbury's beautiful face. - -"I judged from His Majesty's reputation that he would have done better," -he murmured. - -"His Majesty is a great man," said Halifax placidly. - -Caermarthen shrugged his shoulders. - -"Is it the kind of greatness that will help England?" - -"Or your party to places, my lord?" retorted the Lord Privy Seal -shrewdly. - -Caermarthen's thin face darkened. - -"His Majesty doth not know his friends," he said. - -"He will not be a party leader," returned Halifax; "but I do doubt -whether England will be ever governed save by factions----" - -Shrewsbury came up to the table and looked round the faces of his -colleagues. He was by far the youngest of the company, and his soft -good-looks were incongruous to the importance of his position; Lord -Godolphin, a quiet, thin man, who so far had not opened his lips or -taken any notice of anything, now fixed his eyes on Shrewsbury, and kept -them there keenly while the Duke spoke. - -"Sirs, what is to be done? We have very good assurance that the -Government cannot hold--nay," he added, with increasing agitation, "if -King James were to land to-morrow, who would stay him from the throne?" - -"His Majesty," said Lord Godolphin quietly. - -Caermarthen caught the words. - -"His Majesty! I have little faith in him now; he is a dying man----" - -"The doctors," added Nottingham gloomily, "give him another year----" - -"No more, I truly think," said Halifax calmly. "The Dutchmen themselves -say they hardly know him for the man he was at The Hague----" - -"What then?" cried Shrewsbury, in a desperate frankness. "Are we all to -fall into the laps of women and my Lord Marlborough?" - -"The Queen could never hold the throne," answered Halifax; "she is not -loved," he smiled; "the people dislike her for her false position----" - -"By God!" interrupted Caermarthen hotly; "what know you of Her Majesty? -She would rule better than any Stewart hath done yet----" - -"Maybe, and wed another foreigner," retorted Shrewsbury. "Besides, I -think you are wrong. No woman could rule England now----" - -"Nor any man, it seemeth," smiled Halifax sadly. "For my part I am -weary of all of it--and so, I think," he added, "is His Majesty. He is -greatly angered that the Bill of Indemnity is changed into a Bill of -Pains and Penalties, and there are such heats over it----" - -"What course doth he think to take?" asked Shrewsbury abruptly. - -"He said very little to-day," answered Halifax. "Our talk was all of -business; he is of an extraordinary industry," this with admiration, -"and hath mastered the details of the government already. Were he a -stronger man I should have no fear for England----" - -"Talk--antic talk!" cried Caermarthen impatiently; "and are no nearer a -solution----" - -The sound of the opening of the heavy carved door caused them all to -pause. Godolphin, who was the only one facing it, rose respectfully; -the others turned. - -It was the King. - -His bright glance went from face to face. He came slowly to the head of -the table, and seated himself in the wand-bottomed chair there; his -ministers were on their feet waiting for him to speak. Surprised as -they were by this unexpected appearance, their agitation showed in their -faces, Shrewsbury in particular was colourless; only Lord Godolphin -remained perfectly composed. - -The King continued to look from one to the other; he wore a heavy brown -velvet thickly braided with gold, and held in his right hand a paper -written upon, and folded across. - -"Affairs," he said, in his tired voice, with his peculiar short manner -of speaking, "have reached a crisis, my lords, and I have come to -acquaint you with my resolution." - -He leant forward a little, and rested his right arm on the table, -keeping his dark, powerful eyes fixed on these ministers whom he read so -perfectly. - -"My lords," he continued quietly, almost gently, "it is a year since I -took up the government of this country, and in that time I have done -nothing to please any one of you." He coughed and pressed his -handkerchief to his lips. "I have done my best to govern justly," he -added proudly, "but I confess I took up a task beyond my powers. My -lords, I cannot rule a disaffected country with disaffected ministers. -I admit I do not understand you. As I am often reminded, I am a -foreigner." - -The five nobles made a common movement as of painful expectation. The -King's plain speaking took all words from them; Shrewsbury was painfully -agitated. - -"What doth Your Majesty propose?" asked Halifax anxiously. - -The King opened out the paper on the dark walnut table, and laid his -right hand on it. He wore round this wrist a bracelet of red glass or -crystal, cut into facets, that caught and threw back the light; it -gleamed now strongly through the thick Bruges lace of his ruffles. - -"I mean," he said, "to resign the crown and return to Holland--where I -am needed," he added strongly. - -"My God!" exclaimed Caermarthen; the rest were silent. - -The King surveyed their changed and utterly amazed faces with a gleam in -his eyes. - -"My convoy is in readiness," he said, "and here, my lords, is the speech -in which I announce my intention to Parliament"--he glanced at Sidney -Godolphin--"my lord," he added with dignity, "will do me a last service -and correct my poor English----" - -Caermarthen broke out passionately-- - -"Sir, you cannot know what you are saying--this is unheard of----" - -"I know very well what I am saying, my Lord Marquess," answered William. -"I cannot please you, but I think the Queen can. I believe you would be -faithful to her--she is English; but as for me, you can manage your -business better without me--and I am needed on the Continent." - -He rose, and Halifax, rather pale, came up to him. - -"What is to become of England if Your Majesty leaveth us?" - -"The Queen will please you," repeated William. - -"This action on the part of Your Majesty will mean chaos," cried -Shrewsbury desperately. - -The King smiled sternly. - -"No confusion could be worse than what we now endure--perhaps alone ye -can put it straight." - -They looked at each other. In their hearts they all knew that the King, -and the King alone held them together and kept them from France; to the -Whigs his departure would mean ruin, and among the Tories there was not -one man capable of undertaking a tithe of what the King--who had foreign -affairs exclusively in his hands--performed. - -"What is Your Majesty's reason for this bitter resolve?" cried -Caermarthen. - -"I am needed in Holland," said William. "I have, my lord, my lifework -to do. There are certain things put to my hand for me to accomplish, -and I have pursued them through too many difficulties to be thwarted now -by the disputes of the English Parliament----" - -He spoke with a sudden force that lashed them. - -"I took this crown," he added, holding his hand to his breast, "that I -might, with God His help, put England in her ancient place among -nations, not that I might lose myself in heated factions and blind -animosities." - -"If Your Majesty desert us we are all undone," said Caermarthen -passionately. - -"Ah, my lords," answered William, "I am not of a nature to be the puppet -between your parties. God gave me a disposition different--I cannot mix -in these your politics." - -His cough interrupted him; he gave a little shudder, and sank back into -the walnut-backed chair. - -"There are some things beyond a man's strength," he said hoarsely, "and -I, hampered as I am, cannot govern England." - -"I," cried Halifax sincerely, "have tried to help Your Majesty----" - -"And what is your reward?" asked William quickly. "Parliament is so -pressing on you, my lord, that I shall have to forego your -services--what is any honest man's reward in this country? As angry -dogs ye rend each other. My God, will there never be an end to these -dissensions?" - -He crushed the rough draft of his speech up in his hand and flung it on -the table. - -"There is my answer to this question," he said, and made to rise again, -but Shrewsbury came forward and cast himself on his knees before him. - -"I entreat Your Majesty to consider--to reflect--to spare us, to spare -this unhappy country----" - -The King looked wildly but not unkindly into the fair, agitated young -face. - -"I cannot do what you want of me," he answered. "Everything I do -displeaseth--I stand for toleration and ye will have no manner of -toleration--hath not the Indemnity Bill become a Bill of Pains and -Penalties? Is not Parliament busy looking up charges of twenty years -ago against men of position? Is not the Church crying out against the -Dissenters, and the Dissenters against the Papists?" - -They were all silent; Shrewsbury on his knees by the King's chair. - -"As to the civil government," continued William, "ye know perfectly well -what corruption is there. For the last two reigns every honour in the -gift of the Crown hath been put up to sale with women and priests for -brokers--I can trust no one save, of course, yourselves, my lords," he -added, with a faint sarcasm. "There is neither honesty nor industry nor -credit in any department of the administration. I can do no more." - -Lord Godolphin came forward from the window; he was known to be higher -in favour with the King than any there, and the others waited with a -silent, anxious curiosity for him to speak. - -"I think Your Majesty will change your resolution," he said, with sudden -warmth, "for the sake of Europe." - -"For the sake of Europe, my lord, I shall persist in it." - -Sidney Godolphin looked straightly at the King. - -"No--Your Majesty is not the man to shirk difficulties--bear with us a -little." - -"My lord," answered William, "if all were as you I should have no -difficulties--rise up, my lord of Shrewsbury; this is not your fault." - -The Duke got to his feet and retired to the deep window-seat; he -appeared utterly overwhelmed. - -"I undertook to serve a King," said Godolphin, deeply moved. "Let me -resign that service while you are still my King--if Your Majesty becomes -Prince of Orange I become a private gentleman. I pray Your Majesty -accept my resignation." - -"And mine, sir," added Halifax. - -"I hope that you will serve the Queen," replied William; he leant back -in his chair and his face was colourless against the red brocade -cushion. - -"It was to Your Majesty I swore obedience," said Godolphin firmly. - -"I set you free of those oaths--all of you, my lords--my convoy waiteth -at Gravesend. In Holland I can be of service--not here." He, with -infinite weariness, sat up and took his speech from the table. "Take -this, my lord." He held it out to Lord Godolphin. - -The minister went on one knee. - -"I cannot be a party to this," he said. "Your Majesty must forgive -me--but I cannot----" - -The blood rushed into the King's thin cheek. - -"What do you want of me?" he cried passionately. "You know I do not -shirk labour. I have worked like a government clerk since I have been -in London, and I am well used to it--but it is no use." - -Godolphin answered him with equal passion. - -"Is all this labour to come to nothing, sir? If Your Majesty giveth up, -there will be no heart in any of us--everything will fly asunder, and we -be unprotected for the French and Irish to overrun. Your presence, your -Dutch troops alone keep order. Without you we are lost again, and worse -than we were before '88----" - -"Your Majesty cannot--Your Majesty must not," cried Caermarthen. - -Shrewsbury raised his face; he was trembling, and weeping softly. - -"God in heaven!" he whispered, under his breath. - -Nottingham looked at him with contempt. - -"Will Your Majesty forsake your friends?" he asked sombrely. "Where do -we stand if Your Majesty resigns the position we asked you to accept?" - -"Sir," said Halifax firmly, "the Prince of Orange cannot go back on what -he hath undertaken." - -William leant forward, resting against the table; his eyes filled with -tears, and he gave a short cough as if he caught his breath. - -"You ask too much of any man--to rule this country under the -disadvantages that whelm me," he said faintly. "I was not made to be -cabined in these small factions----" - -"We cannot do without Your Majesty," said Halifax sharply. "Are all your -glorious deeds and achievements to end in this, sir?" - -The King put his hand before his eyes and sobbed heavily. - -"O God," cried Godolphin, in bitter distress, "what pass is here?" He -turned on the others. "Is this to what we have brought the Prince who -saved us?" - -The tears were in his own eyes, and his voice was broken. - -Halifax spoke to Caermarthen. - -"This is like to be the end of us, my lord," he remarked. "Cry 'finis'! -for the play is over now." - -The King continued to weep; his whole frail figure was shaken with his -passion. The last cold daylight was over his gold broideries and the -crimson bracelet round his wrist. Caermarthen was pacing to and fro in a -kind of frenzy. - -"What is to do!" he asked himself. "What is to do!" and he clutched the -cambric ruffles on his bosom. - -Godolphin again dropped on his knees before the King and took William's -cold left hand to his lips. - -"Your Majesty will not leave us," he murmured, in a quivering tone. - -The King lifted his great eyes, blurred, yet bright, with tears. - -"If I stay," he answered, "it is on certain terms--I will not be the -puppet of factions." He stopped, exhausted; he composed himself and -flushed feverishly; his speech was interrupted by continual and painful -coughing. "I will not be a party to persecution." He clenched his thin -hand on the smooth curved arm of his chair, and spoke with a force and -energy that gripped and almost frightened his listeners. "A measure -must be passed to prevent it--and I must go to The Hague next spring." - -"Ireland----" began Caermarthen. - -William caught up the word. - -"I will go to Ireland--since ye think so much of that wretched country I -will get it----" - -Even in the midst of their relief that they had moved him the ministers -were shaken at this resolution. - -"Your Majesty cannot be spared from London," exclaimed Halifax. - -"I shall prorogue Parliament before I leave," answered William fiercely. -"That or nothing, my lords. I do not stay here to be King Log----" - -They bowed before his terms as they had done in the crisis of '88; only -Shrewsbury, who saw the downfall of his party in the prorogation of a -Whig Parliament, made a feeble protest. - -"Fever is epidemic in Ireland--the health of Your Majesty----" - -"You fear to lose me, my lord, before I have served your turn!" was -struck out of the King; then he amended his contempt, for he was ever -fond of Shrewsbury. "It is the only thing to do--if the reduction of -Ireland is necessary before the Continental Campaign--I must go." He -looked sharply round. "Gentlemen, do you take these terms--will you -unite to help me to them?" - -"We have no choice," said Lord Godolphin, and he tore the draft of the -King's speech across. - - - - - CHAPTER III - - THE BEST OF LIFE - - -It was early May; the King was walking in his park at Kensington, with -his friend, William Bentinck, Earl of Portland. - -It was the eve of his departure for Ireland; he had yesterday prorogued -Parliament, and laughed a little as he related the discomfiture of the -Whigs at his speech. - -"I shall be glad to be under canvas again," he added. "For myself it -will be a holiday, but I pity the poor Queen." He repeated with great -tenderness--"the poor Queen!" - -"How doth she take your going?" asked the Earl. - -"Ah, heavily--what have I brought her but affliction?--sometimes I think -of that----" - -He spoke sadly, and pressed Bentinck's hand. - -"Be good to the Queen," he said wistfully. "As you love me, William, -help the Queen when I am not here.... I think women have the harder -part." - -"I have great faith in her courage and wisdom, sir," said the Earl. - -"There is no woman like her," answered the King, under his breath. He -added aloud, with a flashing smile, "As there is no friend in the world -like you!" - -"Ah, sir," cried Portland, much moved, "you ever flattered me." - -He was not so reserved as the King nor yet so demonstrative. William -could express by word and letter, strong passion, but this was not -possible to William Bentinck. Devotion to his master was the motive -power of his life, but he could not say so. - -The King again pressed his hand affectionately. They were walking under -limes, and hawthorns white with blossom. The sky shone cloudy blue, and -the pale English sunshine was over the young grass. - -William looked round him with the sick eyes of exile; thoughts of -Holland tugged so sharply at his heart that he gave a little suppressed -sound of pain. - -"What of this Crone and Fuller plot?" asked Portland suddenly. - -"I am sorry to leave that on the Queen her hands," said William quietly; -"but I do not think it serious." - -"Some great men are implicated?" - -"I do not doubt it." - -Portland hesitated a moment, then said-- - -"Nottingham's spies intercepted letters to St. Germains, he saith--who -were they from?" - -"People of no station," answered the King. "Nottingham is over -zealous." - -"And you, sir, are over easy." - -William smiled at him, and seated himself on a wooden bench under one of -the limes. - -"That is an old complaint between us, is it not?" he said kindly. "Dear -lord, let it be----" - -Portland smiled also; he was not satisfied; he stirred his cane among -the scattered hawthorn flowers and his fair face hardened. After a -little he asked his dismissal, and turned towards Kensington House. - -The King remained alone in the park, sitting a little droopingly; he -hardly ever held himself erect now; he had shifted his sword-belt so -that the weapon was across his knees, and he held pommel and point of -the scabbard with his bare, delicate hands; his clothes were dark and -plain; he wore high riding-boots and a beaver with a great plume of -white feathers. So still he sat, and so shaded was his figure in the -deep glowing shadow cast by the lime boughs of budding foliage, that a -young man coming moodily along the path was upon him before he noticed -that any sat there. - -"Ah, sire!" he exclaimed, in confusion, and pulled off his hat. - -William looked up at him; it was the Duke of Shrewsbury. - -"I am glad to see you, my lord. I wished to speak to you." - -"I was about to seek an audience of Your Majesty." - -Shrewsbury was in a painful agitation, further increased by this sudden -meeting with the King, utterly unlooked for. It was rare to find -William at leisure or on foot. - -The King's deep eyes regarded him sadly and kindly. - -"Was it to a second time offer your resignation?" he asked. - -Shrewsbury went crimson under his powder; he seemed to find it difficult -to maintain even a show of composure. - -"Yes, Your Majesty," he answered. - -"Very well," said William quietly. "I am sorry that you will not serve -me till my return from Ireland." - -"Sire, my health," murmured the Duke faintly--"I have had a fall from my -horse--I am not fit." - -Still holding his sword in both hands, the King rose. - -"My lord--is that your sole reason?" he asked gently. - -The blood ebbed from the young man's soft face; he answered with an -effort. - -"My sole reason, Your Majesty." - -William continued to fix his eyes on him. - -"My lord, when did you last see Roger Fuller?" - -Shrewsbury shivered; he stammered painfully. - -"I--I--do not know--the fellow----" - -"I take your word, my lord," said William gravely. - -He dropped his sword, and laid his hand with a gentle dignity on the -young man's heaving shoulder. - -"Remember I trust you," he added quietly. - -"Sir," cried Shrewsbury, through pale lips--"what is your meaning--do -you think----" - -"I think that you are a man of honour," said William. "You have given me -your word, and I trust you. Remember it." - -"Your Majesty," began the Duke wildly, "I never meant----" - -"Hush," interrupted the King. "I know nothing. Take care of your -health, my lord." - -He touched his hat and moved on. The young Duke looked after him with -eyes of agony, then stumbled wretchedly away through the trees. - -William proceeded slowly to the privy garden, which was full of stocks, -pinks, wallflowers, aloes, and early roses. - -He found the Queen and Lady Nottingham seated in front of a great bush -of box clipped into the shape of a peacock. Between them was a length of -yellow silk that they were sewing with blue beads in little crosses and -stars. - -At the King's approach Lady Nottingham rose and retired with a courtsey. -Mary looked after her kindly. - -"She is a sweet lady--I like her vastly," she said. - -"You find most ladies sweet, do you not?" answered the King; he seated -himself beside her on the bench, and took up the end of silk Lady -Nottingham had laid down. - -"I have spoilt your work. But I wished to tell you something, Marie." - -Mary glanced at him anxiously; she was slightly pale, and wore a black -scarf wrapped round her head and shoulders; her petticoat was striped -red and frilled at the foot, her over-gown dark blue and spread round -her in circling folds of glittering silk. For all the sombre heaviness -of this stately dressing she looked very young--sad, also, for all the -desperate gaiety to which she was continually nerved. - -The King looked about him to see that they were not overheard, then -said, in a low voice-- - -"I have accepted my Lord Shrewsbury his resignation." - -Mary waited, catching her breath. - -"He," continued William, "hath tampered with His late Majesty." - -The Queen gave a little sound of distress, and dropped her sewing. - -"Shrewsbury!" she whispered. - -"I have sure proof of it," said the King. "I am sorry for him," he -added simply; "and for myself, it something moved me, for I ever liked -my lord." - -Mary flushed and clenched her hands on her lap. - -"How base every one is," she cried, and the angry tears glittered in her -eyes. - -"There is not much honour in England, Marie. Have a care of all of -them--particularly of that knave"--he spoke with strong force--"that -villain, my Lord Marlborough----" - -"Need he be of the Council?" she asked eagerly. - -"Child, he is the best soldier in England, and if I was to leave you a -Council of honest men they could not be of this nation--trust none of -them." - -"God help me," said the Queen. "I know not how I shall support myself -when you are not here--but how weak I am to talk thus--my part is little -compared to yours." - -She smiled with a pitiful brightness, and the King, looking at her, -flushed as if he had been hurt and suppressed the pain. - -"Talk no more of this," he said quickly--"in this little time we have -together----" - -Mary laid her hand on his. - -"How pale the sunshine is--not thick and golden like The Hague--the -flowers seem so different too; is not that a silly fancy?" She smiled -again, and her voice quivered. - -"You are not happy here, Marie." - -She answered hastily. - -"Happy wherever I have your dear company--but I confess I am a coward -without you--but God is greater than our hopes, our fears, our desires; -He knoweth best." - -When her soft voice ceased the only sounds were those of water running -in the lead basin of a fountain hidden somewhere behind the alleys of -wych-elm, and the occasional distant blows of a hammer from the workman -engaged on the scaffolding of Kensington House. - -She spoke again at last, her white fingers tightening over his. - -"I wonder if you will ever rest--if achievement will ever come--at last, -if you will ever think your work done----" - -"How can I?" he answered. "That is my sole excuse to live--that there -is something for me to do--and I am so used to work I think I could not -rest----" - -"It hath been hard--hard and long," said Mary. "You must be so weary of -it all--the lying, the treachery, the weakness, the opposition, the -delays, the disappointments----" - -The King smiled faintly. - -"Yet I have done something----" - -"So much!" exclaimed Mary proudly. "But I do long for you to have some -leisure now ... for both of us ... to be alone, at last----" - -"When the war is over----" - -She interrupted gently. - -"When the war is over! Alas!" She shook her head. "So long still to -wait." She smiled. "I would that you had not been a great man, -dear--but just a simple citizen." She laughed charmingly. "And we -would live at The Hague always and have a great garden where you should -grow 'La Solitaire' for the thousand gulden prize--and I would polish -all the furniture myself--and I could call you 'Willem' then before all -the world, and we should have long days together ... and you would read -of great events in the _Gazette_ and never want to mix in them, and I -should laugh at those unhappy kings and queens----" - -Her husband looked at her in silence. - -"So you see I am a good housewife, no more!" she continued, in a kind of -wild gaiety. "Alas, I have no brains for business!" - -"I have thought, too," said William, "that I would like to be a mere -gentleman watching events, not guiding them; but these thoughts are -beneath us--and idle visions." - -"Idle visions!" repeated the Queen. "And you must go to the war -again--Death's target--and I must stay behind and keep my countenance! -I am such a poor weak fool!" she added, in bitter self-reproach. - -The King raised her head and pressed it against his heart. - -"That kind of fool I could never have done without," he said -impetuously. "If I have ever achieved anything, the credit is to you, -my dearest, my dearest----" - -He dropped her hand, and abruptly broke his speech. - -"What more can I want than to hear you say that?" answered Mary. "Only -love me and I can bear anything----" - -The King's brilliant eyes rested on her pale but smiling face; he spoke -slowly, and his tired voice was hoarse and unequal. - -"When I was a boy--a youth--I was so proud, so self-confident.... I -remember I thought I was capable of anything--I took my inexperience, my -handful of soldiers, into the field against France--against Conde! I -had been very much alone, and so learnt reserve that I had almost lost -the power of expression--I was also very unhappy--I think I had no -support in the world but my pride--I thought God had elected me to be -his Captain----" - -He paused, but Mary did not speak. Only the little gurgle of the unseen -fountain broke perfect stillness. - -"I remember," continued William, "the first time I went to Middleburg -and heard the people shout for me--and saw the Town Council bowing.... -I never had felt so lonely. Twenty years ago--and I have greatly -changed, but in a fashion I have kept the vows I made then to God--I -have not turned back from defending His Faith--but that was before He -pleased to humble me by constant defeat. I was so confident, Marie! -Ah, could I recapture that exaltation of the morning it would all be so -easy--I felt so glad of what I had to do--but now!" - -He raised his hand lightly and lightly let it fall; his profile was -towards the Queen now, and his gaze directed towards the English -hawthorns that showed above the box hedge of the privy garden. - -"But though," he added, "it hath all darkened since then, I think God -meant me to go on--for He sent you, my wife ... and you are the one -thing that hath never failed me." - -She hid her face in her hands, and sat trembling; the little tray of -blue beads fell from her lap, and they were scattered over the gravel -path. - -"If I am not good at gratitude," said the King haltingly--"yet believe -me--while you are there I can endure anything. After all, there is -nothing in the world for me but you and Holland, and while I have both -why should I complain of any difficulties?" - -Mary raised her face. - -"If I could think I made that difference to you!" she said. - -"You have given me the best of life," he answered gravely. - - - - - CHAPTER IV - - THE SECRET ANGUISH - - -In that ancient palace called Hampton Court, on the banks of the Thames, -the Queen of England walked through the rooms that were rebuilding, and -tried to subdue her soul to peace. - -The King was at the war in Ireland, and she, with the aid of the nine -councillors--men divided by personal spites and party differences--was -ruling England through a bitter and desperate crisis. - -Mary, a woman and utterly unused to business (though she had always -taken an intelligent interest in politics), yet found all these men, on -whose wisdom she was supposed to rely, peevish and silly. Marlborough -was using her sister to stir up opposition against the Government,--she -strongly suspected him, Godolphin, and Russell of having made their -peace with King James; Caermarthen she personally disliked; the Crone -and Fuller plot had proved to be a widespreading affair, in which there -appeared every possibility of her uncles being involved; the country was -denuded of troops, and the fleet in disorder; the treasury empty, and -the French threatening the Channel. - -These were the first few moments of leisure the Queen had known since -her husband's departure; she was eager to have Hampton Court ready for -his return, and so had come eagerly to see the progress of the -rebuilding and alterations. - -Here again she was met with difficulties and humiliations. Sir -Christopher Wren, the architect, was in want of money, the workmen were -unpaid, the contractors refused to deliver any more Portland stone on -credit. - -Mary had no money, and knew not where to get it; she soothed Sir -Christopher as best she could, and desperately resolved that these debts -should be paid; the thought of them was an added vexation. She felt -there was a kind of meanness in so lacking money, and that the -rebuilding of Hampton Court, which had been her one pleasure, was a -reproach and a mistake. - -M. de Ginckle had written to her from Ireland that they were so -straitened in the camp that the King had refused to sign for wine for -his own table, and was drinking water with the men. - -Mary thought of this passionately as she surveyed the unfinished -building the grumblers declared such an unwarranted luxury, and -remembered the noble fortune William had lavished on the public cause. - -Under some pretence, she slipped away from her ladies and Sir -Christopher, and, with a wild longing to be alone, made her way to some -of the old deserted Tudor rooms of the palace, opened now for the first -time for perhaps fifty years. - -In the wing in which Mary found herself there were near a hundred -chambers, and she, new to the palace, was soon lost in the maze of -apartments. - -She was wildly glad to be alone, to drop, for a moment, the mask of -composed gaiety that she ever kept over her anxiety. - -Door after door she opened, and room after room she traversed, until she -reached a little winding stairway that led to a chamber in one of the -fine red turrets with the graceful decorated chimney-stacks that Sir -Christopher was so calmly destroying. - -Stairway and chamber were both covered with thick white dust; the bolts -on the door were rusty and loose; there was no furniture save an old -rotting chest, rudely carved; but the walls were beautifully panelled -with oak in a linen pattern, and the low lancet window disclosed a -perfect view. - -Mary went straight to it, leant her sick head against the mullions, and -gazed over the fair prospect of unkept garden, field, meadow, and river, -all shimmering under a July sun. The Thames showed argent gold between -banks of willow and alder; stretches of daisies, buttercups, clover, and -poppies reached to distant groves of elm, oak, and beech. - -In the nearer glades deer wandered in and out of the sweeping shadows, -and the air was soft with the whispers of the ringdove. - -Such a different England this seemed from that England shown in London, -so far removed from war and discord, danger and alarm. - -The lonely young Queen felt her own desolation heightened by the -solitude; she became almost afraid of the silence. - -When she reflected that the person who was everything to her was -distant, exposed to many perils, that her father was opposed to him in -battle, that the great responsibility of government was intrusted to -her, and that she had no one on whom she could rely or even to whom open -her heart (for William Bentinck had, after all, been summoned to -Holland), she felt a melancholy creep over her spirit that was near -despair. - -The sun was warm on the sill where her hand rested and on her cheek; she -leant a little farther out of the narrow window, that had neither glass -nor casement, and fixed her eyes on the pulsing flow of the river. - -A little sound behind her caused her to turn quickly with a nervous -start. - -Before a small worm-eaten inner doorway that she had not noticed stood a -comely child of five or six years, gazing at her intently. The colour -fluttered into the Queen's face; they stood staring at each other--the -woman and the child--as if they were both afraid. - -"What are you doing here?" asked Mary coldly, after a second. - -The child did not answer; he had as little expected to see this tall -young lady in the fine blue gown as she had expected to see him. - -"You have no business here," said Mary, in the same tone; "this is -private. Go, find your people." - -And she turned towards the window again so that she could not see him. - -He answered now. - -"I have lost my way." - -"There are the stairs," said Mary, without looking round. "Go down -there, and you will find your way." - -There was silence, and she waited a little; then looked over her -shoulder to see him still standing there, staring at her. - -"Why don't you go?" she asked harshly. "You are not allowed here." - -"Yes, ma'am, I am," he replied. "Father said I could go where I liked." - -"Who is your father?" - -The child laid a delicate finger on the smooth carving of the wall. - -"He maketh--these," he explained. - -"A carver," said Mary. "Is he working here?" - -"Yes, ma'am. We come every day; there is another little boy--you are -the mother of the other little boy?" he questioned. - -"No," said Mary coldly. - -"He isn't here to-day," remarked the child rather sadly. "When he is we -go out, because he is a bigger boy than me. If you had been his mother I -thought you might have taken me out." - -"Your father can take you out." - -"Father is working with Master Wren. Do you know Master Wren?" - -"Yes." - -"He goeth up and down in a basket outside the house. Once I went too, -and he held me so tight that it hurt. He is too old to play with." - -He came a little farther into the room, eying Mary wistfully. She was -stately as well as tall, and the high lace commode she wore, and the -stiff arrangement of her heavy curls, further added to her dignity. The -child looked at her in some awe. - -"Are you cross with me?" he asked gravely. - -"No," answered the Queen--"no--but your father will be looking for -you--best go and find him." - -"I have lost my way," he said, subdued by her coldness. "I was asleep in -there." He pointed to the little sunny annexe to the turret from which -he had come. "I am glad I met you, ma'am." - -"Why?" asked Mary. - -The child smiled, in an effort to win her. - -"I get frightened when I am alone," he said. "Don't you, ma'am?" - -"Sometimes," answered the Queen; she bit her lip and fixed her narrowed -brown eyes on the boy; he was fair, and rather delicate, and wore a -shabby suit of red tabinet. - -He slowly and reluctantly moved towards the narrow dark stairs. - -"I wish this house was finished," he said plaintively. "It is so large. -The King will live here," he added. "I saw the King talking once to Mr. -Wren." - -Mary gave him no encouragement to stay, but he still lingered by the -rotting door, that swung back against the wall, and looked at her with -wide, puzzled eyes. - -"I am going now," he said at last; his hands went to his cravat, which -was sadly knotted. "Would you tie this for me first? Father don't like -me to look untidy." - -"Come here," said Mary. - -He came at once and stood before her. - -"I don't think I can do it," said the Queen unsteadily. - -She took hold of the scrap of cambric awkwardly, while he obediently -held his head up; but her cold fingers bungled, and the bow was clumsy. - -"I can't do it," she murmured. - -"You are so tall, ma'am!" - -She looked into his upturned face. - -"Too tall to be so stupid," she answered, and untied the bow. "Have you -a mother?" she asked suddenly, holding his shoulder gently. - -"No, ma'am." - -"Ah, poor soul!" - -She spoke so sadly that he was distressed. - -"What is the matter, ma'am?" - -"I was thinking of what we both have missed," said Mary gently. - -His bright eyes were bewildered. The Queen drew him to the old chest, -seated herself there, and again tied the cravat. - -"What is your name?" she asked, as she smoothed it. - -"James, ma'am--it was the King his name when I was born," he added -proudly. - -Mary drew a quick breath. - -"But you serve King William." - -"I know," he answered dutifully. "He is a soldier, father saith. I -would like to be a soldier, ma'am." - -Mary smiled; though she had done with his cravat she still kept her -hands lightly on his shoulder. - -"Not a wood-carver?" - -He shook his head. - -"Father saith, 'Better be a soldier these days--there is no living -else,'" he quoted wisely. - -"There is time enough to decide," said Mary softly; her ringed right -hand timidly caressed his hair, scarcely touching it. "Have you many -toys?" - -"No, ma'am." - -"Do you care for them?" - -He considered. - -"Books," he said, with a little frown, "that you can tear the pictures -out of--pictures of fights, ma'am--and blackamoor's teeth." - -"What are they?" asked Mary, gazing earnestly at him; she spoke with a -catch in her breath. - -He put his hand into his pocket and produced several cowrie shells. - -"There, ma'am--they come from far away." His eyes glittered. "It would -be good to be a sailor, would it not, ma'am?" - -"You are a grave child," said Mary; she drew him softly nearer to her, -and bent her beautiful pale face near to his. "You pray for the King, -do you not?" - -"On Sunday, ma'am." - -"Pray for him whenever you say your prayers--and for the Queen." - -He nodded. - -"The poor Queen!" he said. - -"Why do you say that?" asked Mary, startled. - -"Master Wren said those words--like that--'the poor Queen!' ma'am." - -Mary stared at him intently; her arms tightened about him. Suddenly she -pressed him up to her bosom, where his little head rested patiently -among her thick laces. - -"The poor Queen!" she whispered wildly, and drew him closer, till he was -half frightened by the force of her embrace and the beating of her heart -beneath his cheek. - -"Oh, ma'am!" he cried, "I have even dropped the blackamoor's teeth." - -She let him go, and watched him with desperate eyes while he searched -and recovered the gleaming white shells from the dusty floor. - -As he busily sought for one in the shadow of the chest, a soft whistle -sounded twice; he sprang to his feet at once. - -"That is my father--I must go now, ma'am." - -The Queen held out her hands appealingly. - -"Will you not kiss me?" - -He came obediently and held up his unconscious face. - -Mary's lips touched his brow in the saddest salute he was ever like to -know. He did not offer to return it, but made a little bow, and so left -her. She sat quite still, listening to the sound of his unequal -footsteps departing; then she stooped and picked up the shell he had -abandoned. - -She fancied that it was still warm and moist from his tight clutch, and -as she looked at it the tears veiled her eyes and fell on to her -trembling palm. - -"O God!" she cried aloud, with a passion that had slipped her control. -"Ye had no right to make childless women!" - -She flung the shell from her, and buried her face in her hands, while -the painful sobs heaved her body. - -She had not long even the comfort of lonely weeping, for the sound of -voices and footsteps coming up the narrow stairs caused her to rise -heavily, with a start of self-reproach. - -It was her secret boast that she had not allowed a tear or a sigh to -escape her in public since the King had gone. She dried her poor tired -eyes hastily, and bit her lips to steady them, while she thrust her -sorrows back into her heart with that placid courage that never failed -her. She descended the stairs and faced the people who were, she knew, -looking for her. - -She was not prepared to see Lord Nottingham, whom she had left at -Whitehall; the sight of him among her attendants caused her to pause at -the foot of the stairs. - -"You, my lord!" she cried faintly. - -His dark face showed obvious relief at her appearance. - -"I have been searching for Your Majesty," he said, with some reproach. -"I have ridden hot after Your Majesty from London----" - -"There must be grave news," said Mary, knowing that otherwise he would -not have come himself. - -"There is, Madam--the gravest." - -Mary raised her head; she was perfectly composed. - -"From--the King?" she asked. - -"No, Madam." - -Mary smiled superbly. - -"Then it is not the worst." She was colourless to the lips, but bore -herself with majesty. "What is it, my lord?" - -Nottingham was always tragical in his discourse, and now his face and -tone were gloomy in the extreme. - -"Madam, M. de Waldeck and the allies have been defeated at Fleurus, M. -de Tourville and the French fleet have been spied under full sail for -the coast of Devon. There is no relying on our sailors--there is a -panic in the city." - -The Queen's eyes flashed with something of her husband's look when -fronted with disaster. - -"We will to London," she said--"there to face these misfortunes." - - - - - CHAPTER V - - A WOMAN'S STRENGTH - - -The council of nine was sitting at Whitehall waiting for news from the -English Fleet, which, under command of Lord Torrington, had sailed out -from Plymouth to meet the French. - -The Queen sat at the head of the table, as usual silent and as usual -watchful; at her right hand Lord Caermarthen, at her left Lord -Devonshire, the others along the table, and at the foot Sir John -Lowther. - -The room was very handsome: the walls of varied-coloured tapestry, the -cornices of gilt wood, and the floor covered with rugs from Persia. -Through the tall, majestic window might be seen a view of housetops and -a little turret with a bell clear against a sky of flaming summer blue. - -Mary was seated in a heavy chair with crimson cushions; she wore a -violet dress of stiff damask satin and a petticoat flounced with lace; -her arms were covered to the wrist with ruffles of muslin, and she held -a long chicken skin fan with ivory mounts and an emerald in the handle; -her shortsighted and narrowed eyes dwelt anxiously and critically on the -faces of these men in whose hands she, and England, lay. - -Facing her, Sir John Lowther, commonplace, courtly, agitated, was -stabbing the polished table with a broken quill; to his left sat Edward -Russell, impatient, blond, swaggering; to his right, Pembroke, gentle, -hesitating, reserved. Godolphin, thin and hectic, was, as ever, mute -and self-effacing; his companion was the restless, feverish, and -volatile Monmouth, extravagantly dressed and fiery in manner. - -Opposite him sat the gloomy honourable Nottingham, and another man, an -object of peculiar dislike and suspicion both to the King and Queen, -John Churchill, recently created Earl of Marlborough. - -Of all the company he was the most remarkable in appearance--young, -tall, of extreme good looks, though florid and flamboyant in type, of a -calm, easy, and courtly demeanour, but obviously not an aristocrat nor -anything of a great gentleman, but rather of a kind of vulgarity, even -in his richly coloured beauty, and in that different to the other -ministers, who were all of noble appearance; he was dressed in scarlet -silk and wore a very rich sword-belt; he sat opposite the window, and -the sunlight made his splendour glitter. - -My Lord Devonshire was of another and more winning type of handsomeness; -his young face was refined and delicate in feature, yet expressed an -ardent strength and a proud decision; he looked continually at the -Queen, and seemed, with the exception of Caermarthen, to be the only one -who had much sympathy or regard for her position. - -"The conspirators----" began Nottingham heavily. He was drawing up a -list of the suspected names; he had industrious spies, as the Whigs had -found to their cost. - -"Well, my lord?" asked Godolphin imperturbable. He had made his peace -with King James himself, but was calm in the knowledge that he had been -far too cunning to leave evidence of it in anybody's hands. - -Nottingham pursed his lips; he added a name to his list, and handed the -paper with a significant look to Russell, who shrugged and passed it on -to Monmouth. - -"These are people to be put under arrest, are they not?" asked that -nobleman. - -"Yes," said Nottingham dryly. "Shall I leave that last name?" - -The paper was now in Lord Marlborough's hands; he smiled serenely, and -put up his glass. - -Mary spoke, and her woman's voice sounded strangely in the council -chamber. - -"What is this name?" - -Marlborough inclined with great deference towards her. - -"The Earl of Clarendon, Your Majesty." - -The other councillors were silent; he was the Queen's uncle, and even -the most callous of them felt some pity for her dilemma. Devonshire cast -an indignant look on Marlborough, whom he hated, but nothing could put -that gentleman out of countenance. - -"I will erase the name," muttered Nottingham. - -The Queen put out her hand in a gesture to stay him. - -"No, my lord. I know," she said, with great dignity, "and you all know, -that my Lord Clarendon is far too guilty to be left out." - -"A wise decision, Your Majesty," remarked Marlborough calmly. - -She set her lips in disdain of him, and turned to the haggard Lord -President on her right. She had never liked Caermarthen, even though -she owed her marriage largely to him, but she softened to him now; since -the King's departure he had worked incessantly. He was in extreme -ill-health, and she believed he was loyal. - -"My lord," she said, "should we not soon have news from Lord Torrington? -It is twenty-four hours since he had our orders to fight." - -"We are better waiting for that news than listening to it, Your -Majesty," said Admiral Russell bluntly. - -Mary knew that he was largely inspired by professional jealousy. - -"Oh, sir," she answered, "we will have more trust in the man on whom the -fate of three kingdoms dependeth." - -"Madam," said Lord Devonshire, "I do not think Lord Torrington a man to -be intrusted with the fate of three kingdoms." - -Mary answered with animation. - -"That censure hath been passed before, my lord--and at the privy -council--but since we must trust my lord let us pray God he will not -fail us." - -"He would not like those orders to fight," exclaimed Edward Russell, who -had been the main means of sending them. "A cautious man!" - -"One who was not cautious should have been sent to urge him!" cried -Monmouth, who was angry that his entreaty to be permitted to join the -fleet had been refused. - -Mary pressed her fan to her lips and sat mute; in truth, the agony she -endured was not to be soothed with words. Her whole being was strung -for the arrival of the next letters, not only from Torrington, who was -now the sole defence of England, but from Ireland, where she knew her -father and husband were rapidly approaching face to face. - -"Maybe," said the Lord President, "Torrington never got Your Majesty's -dispatch----" - -Monmouth, who was discussing with Godolphin the details of Fuller's -confession (that conspirator having turned informer to save his neck), -swung round violently in his seat. - -"Dear Lord!" he exclaimed. "Do you mean that he may be still idle at -St. Helens?" - -"It may be--the advice packets last reported that he had not moved, and -that M. de Tourville was beyond the Needles." - -"Oh, were I on board," cried Monmouth, "there should be a battle--I -pledge my life on it!" - -Mary was perfectly pale; she still held her fan to her lips and sat -silent, so motionless that it seemed as if she scarcely breathed. - -"He had positive orders to fight," said Godolphin. - -"Oh, my lord," answered Marlborough sweetly, "is it not believed that -this invasion is in concert with these plots among the malcontents?" - -"Do you mean that Lord Torrington is a traitor?" asked Caermarthen -bluntly; he gave Marlborough a glance that conveyed he thought him one. - -The Queen dropped her fan and clenched it tightly in her right hand. - -"Gentlemen, this is no time for these insinuations, with the enemy on -the coast. We," she said proudly and courageously--"we trust all those -in our service, and have faith in God who hath it all in His keeping." - -She paused; the effort of speaking had brought the colour into her face, -her eyes sparkled, and the western sunlight trembled in her auburn hair. -They waited silently, watching her with curiosity and some judgment. -She was principally conscious of the malignant smiling eyes of my Lord -Marlborough. - -"This is our decision," she continued, with unfaltering voice--"that -Admiral Russell and my Lord Monmouth go down to the coast, and there -join the fleet, and give our commands to Lord Torrington that, for the -honour of England, he fight the French, whom he must now outnumber since -his juncture with the Dutch. My lords, the council is over." - -It was the first time that she had given her commands to her advisers, -almost the first time she had announced her opinion on their -discussions; but she left them no chance to doubt that she meant what -she said; she had the manner of Kings. - -"Let these disloyal subjects," she added, pointing to Lord Nottingham's -list, "be at once lodged in the Tower." - -She rose, gave her hand to Lord Caermarthen, and descended from her high -chair with a soft heavy sound of silks. - -"England is Your Majesty's debtor," said Lord Devonshire, bowing low. - -She answered with her sweet stateliness. - -"I do what a woman can, my lord." - -"Your Majesty doth what few women would," said Caermarthen warmly; he -had for her a real and deep devotion. - -She turned as if she would have rebuked his compliment, but checked -herself at sight of his worn and ghastly face, livid with fatigue and -anxiety. - -"I am like your lordship," she answered kindly, "I am fond of my -country." - -He coloured with pleasure, and bent over her fine hand. - -"Now I must go wait for letters." She smiled and left them with her -usual little formal salutation. - -Devonshire looked round at the other councillors. - -"There is more courage in that lady than in most of us," he said gently. -"I did mark the tears lying in her eyes even while she smiled." - -"She will need her courage," answered Caermarthen briefly; "for seldom -hath the country been in the pass it is now." - -Mary had gone no farther than the antechamber with the French tapestries -and crystal candelabra when she was met by the news that the Duke of -Shrewsbury required an immediate audience. - -Her face hardened; she could not forgive Shrewsbury either his secret -treachery or the vexation he had caused the King by his sudden -resignation; she hesitated, then commanded his presence. - -When he entered she was standing before the great gilt mantelpiece, very -cold and contained. - -"What is the reason of your coming, my lord?" she said. - -His gentle face was flecked with feverish colour in the cheeks, he drew -his breath sharply, his riding-suit was dusty; indeed, he was spent with -rapid riding. - -"Madam," he answered, "upon this news--that M. de Tourville rode at the -Isle of Wight--I am come at once to London to offer Your Majesty my -services--my sword----" - -"You, my lord!" exclaimed Mary. - -"Madam," he said, "for the second time all I have is at the service of -His Majesty." - -She looked at him steadily; she could not doubt his sincerity. He was -again the man he had been in '88. Danger struck a fine spirit out of -him, she thought, and she the more deplored his miserable defection of -late. - -"Ah, my lord," she said sadly, "when His Majesty wished for your -services you refused them----" - -"Then," cried Shrewsbury, "the French were not on the coasts." - -She saw in his eagerness a desperate remorseful desire to make -atonement, and further softened. - -"I am in such a strait that I can refuse no offers," she said; "but, -sir, I have no work for you." - -"Send me to the Fleet, Madam--put me under my Lord Marlborough with the -army. I will serve as a volunteer--as anything----" - -"Had you shown this spirit before His Majesty went to Ireland I had been -more grateful," Mary replied gently. "But I am glad to know of your -loyalty, my lord." - -"Madam, this is an urgent crisis--there is almost an open panic--as I -rode up from Epsom, the people came running out of their cottages crying -that the French were coming; in the country all are looking out their -arms----" - -The Queen interrupted. - -"Some, I fear, with the design of joining the invader." - -"Why, God forbid!" he cried. - -"I have commanded the Guards down to Devon to seize the arms and houses -of suspect persons," said Mary quietly; "and to-night, my lord, all the -leaders of this Fuller plot will be in prison--yea, even to my Lord -Clarendon." - -"Ah!" exclaimed Shrewsbury sharply. - -Mary fixed him with a proud but kind gaze. - -"There are many others whose guilt I know who have not been arrested," -she said slowly. - -The young Duke pressed his hand to the embroidered ruffles over his -bosom. - -"Why is Your Majesty thus tender with these--traitors?" he asked, in a -trembling voice. - -"It is my policy," she answered quietly. "I am only a woman, and must -trust to instinct. My lord, I will ask your advice about this matter." - -"My advice?" he stammered, very pale. - -"Yes. Supposing a great nobleman who had finely served His Majesty in -'88--one whom His Majesty loved and trusted--had, in a moment of -weakness, of temptation, betrayed him, and then, being remorseful, I -think, left his service--supposing, I say, that this gentleman came -forward now, with offers of help, should I not trust him?" - -Shrewsbury stood mute. - -"I think I should," said Mary softly. "He is an English gentleman, and -he would not take advantage of my great difficulties to intrigue against -me; he would not take advantage of my confidence to lead his people to -join the French--am I not right?" - -The Duke raised his head; his face was pitifully trembling. - -"Your Majesty's generosity would not be misplaced," he answered -hoarsely. - -"I am glad you think so, my lord. I may trust him, then?" - -"I pledge my life you may," said Shrewsbury ardently. - -"Thank you, my lord--I shall find you at your town house?" - -"I shall wait there to receive the commands of Your Majesty." - -Mary moved a little from the mantelpiece and held out her hand. - -Shrewsbury went on one knee to kiss the soft fingers. - -"I hope to see you at court once more," she said, with a pretty smile. -"I hope you will serve the King again when we are through this difficult -pass." - -He answered from his heart-- - -"I would serve His Majesty with my life." - -When he had gone Mary went to the window, for the light was beginning to -fade, and drew from her waist a crystal watch enamelled with white -violets. - -It was nearly time for her supper. She resided now at Whitehall to -please the people, and to please the people dined nearly always in -public, a practice the King detested and could scarcely ever be brought -to do; that penance was over for to-day, but she had other disagreeable -duties to perform. - -She rang the handbell on an ormolu bureau between the windows, and asked -the Dutch usher who came if Lord Feversham was without. - -He had, it seemed, been long awaiting an audience. - -The Queen commanded him to be brought to her, and seated herself in the -yellow brocade chair to the right of the fireplace. - -Lord Feversham, a Frenchman, a Catholic, and Chamberlain of the Dowager -Queen Catherine's household, entered with a most lowly obeisance. - -Mary looked at him haughtily. - -"You can guess the matter on which we have sent for you?" she asked, -speaking in French. - -"I fear I have again fallen under Your Majesty's displeasure." - -"Both you and your mistress are very much in our displeasure," answered -Mary. "It was our duty to reprimand you three days ago for leaving out -the prayers for the success of His Majesty in the services held in Her -Majesty's chapel, and we listened for near an hour to your excuses, nor -could make much sense of them. And now the offence is repeated." - -"I entreat Your Majesty to believe that it was an oversight," answered -Feversham humbly. - -"Disloyalty and insolence prompts such oversights," flashed the Queen. -"We will not take it, my lord; for though we may be meek, yet we stand -for His Sovereign Lord the King. Tell Queen Catherine so, and bid her -to-night put up prayers for the success of my Lord Torrington against -our enemies the French----" - -Feversham winced, and stole a startled glance at the woman he had -believed to be an amiable cipher; the young beauty's demeanour as she -sat stately and resolved in her regal gown undeceived him. - -"When we rode abroad in Hyde Park to-day," she continued, "we did note -many swarming villains, French and Irish, who gave us impertinent and -joyous looks as if they did anticipate a triumph, and maybe Her Majesty -thinketh also that she may do as she list now M. de Tourville is in the -Channel. But we have no fear of any kind as to the issue of these -matters, nor shall we be weak. Some great men will lie in the Tower -to-night. Bid your mistress take care." - -She rose, and her full height, with heels and head-dress, was more than -his. He made as if to speak. - -"There is no more to say," she said coldly, and left him discomfited. - -No news came, but many rumours found their way into the crowded -galleries at Whitehall, where the anxious courtiers waited and -endeavoured to read the situation in the Queen's face and manner. - -She baffled them all, both at her supper-table and afterwards, when she -sat down to basset as usual in that splendid hall where King Charles had -held his festivals. She was gay and gracious and unconcerned--some even -thought her unfeeling. She appeared to notice nothing; but her eyes and -ears were quick for it all--the whispers, the looks, the ill-concealed -fears and hopes. - -She was, she knew, absolutely alone; not one of the throng about her -could she confide in, and very few could she trust. She suspected that -many of them were but waiting for a slackening of her courage to call -all lost and hasten to make their peace with James; ill news from the -Fleet or from Ireland might mean instant rebellion, she was well aware. - -Meanwhile she played basset and made no mistake in her moves. - -When it was near ten of the clock Lord Nottingham entered the room. The -Queen's eyes at once distinguished him among the crowd. - -She continued dealing the cards. When he approached her she looked up -with a steady smile. - -Her lips shaped the one word-- - -"News?" - -He placed a dispatch on the card-table beside her fan and gloves. She -saw at once that it was not from Ireland, and she drew a breath between -relief and disappointment. - -Her glance went swiftly round the faces now undisguisedly watching her, -and then she broke the seal. - -While she read her bosom heaved, and those nearest her saw the colour -faintly stain her face. - -She folded up the letter and rose. The ace of spades fell from her lap -to the shining floor. - -There was a pause of silence. Mary's eyes were the eyes of a creature -at bay. - -"This is evil news," she said, at length, to Lord Nottingham, and a -proud little smile curved her lips. - -She had just read that Lord Torrington had been utterly defeated off -Beachy Head by the French, who were landed at Tynemouth. - -"What will Your Majesty do?" he asked, under his breath. "The courier -saith the enemy is in possession of the west----" - -She crushed up Lord Torrington's letter in a passionate right hand; she -saw that his defeat had been inglorious. The Dutch had been in the van -all day and were near annihilated; the English, mere spectators, had -drawn off to Plymouth almost untouched. - -"The French are landed," she said, "but we English will not let them far -advance. I will call upon the city of London. Summon to me the Lord -Mayor." - - - - - CHAPTER VI - - GOD SAVE THE QUEEN! - - -On the evening of the fourth day after the defeat at Beachy Head, the -Queen, who would abate none of her state during this time of anxiety, -but rather kept it more splendidly, as a besieged general will hang out -all his flags when his garrison becomes scant, so as to defy and deceive -the enemy, held court in the most sumptuous gallery of Whitehall. - -The land was full of panic, of terror, of mistrust, but the spirit of -the people had risen to the need. The city of London had responded -finely to the Queen's appeal; a hundred thousand pounds had been paid -into the treasury, she had to-day reviewed the train-bands in Hyde Park -and received an address assuring her of the loyalty of the capital. - -The spirit she showed made her suddenly popular. The distant King and -the Dutch were viewed with more favour. Hatred of the French was an -emotion powerful enough to overcome all lesser dislikes, and the whole -nation, Whig and Tory, Protestant and Catholic, shook with rage at the -part Lord Torrington had made the British navy play. - -It was apparent to all the world that he, irritated by orders he -conceived were devised by his rival Russell, had sacrificed the Dutch, -whom he believed were so unpopular that no outcry would be raised at -their destruction, to the English. - -Admiral Evertgen, the admiral of the States, had, with heroic valour, -fought his ships all day long against the overwhelming armament of -France, while the English fleet looked on, and only came forward at -nightfall to tow the disabled Dutch hulks away and destroy them at -Plymouth. - -Popular fury rose high. The London crowd would gladly have torn -Torrington limb from limb. Mary sent him to the Tower and dispatched a -special envoy to the States with the best and most flattering apology -she could devise; her very blood burnt with shame that her husband's -people should be thus sacrificed and her own behave so basely; she -ordered the wounded Dutch seamen to be tended in the English hospitals, -and wrote a letter of compliment to the gallant Evertgen. - -She had, in every direction, done what she could, and the spirit of -England had responded; but the situation was still acute, might yet turn -to utter disaster, and though people might shout for her in the street, -there was little but enmity, jealousy, and opposition among those by -whom she was personally surrounded. - -Even her own sister was under the influence of the Marlboroughs, her -enemy, and the Catholic Queen Dowager had no love for her; it was these -two women she was watching as she sat in her lonely weariness beneath a -candelabra of fifty coloured candles. - -Anne, beautiful, but stout and sullen, lacking all vivacity and charm, -was making knots near the gilt chair of the little dark Portuguese lady -who had been the wife of the second Charles. - -Catherine very seldom came to court, and would not have been there now, -as Mary reflected with a swelling heart, had the last news been of -victory instead of defeat. - -The Princess, who lost no opportunity of vexing her sister, was attired -in the free and gorgeous costume of the last two reigns, in defiant -contrast to the decorous modes the Queen had made fashionable, and -Catherine of Braganza wore a stiff farthingale of brown brocade sewn -with pearls. - -Presently Anne, becoming aware that Mary was watching her, broke into -challenging laughter, which rang false enough at this juncture. - -Mary hung her head; it seemed terrible that the wretched family -divisions to which she had been forced to be a party should be increased -by this breach between her only sister and herself. On a sudden impulse -she sent her new maid of honour, Basilea de Marsac, with a message -requesting Anne's company. - -The Princess tossed her head and came reluctantly; she was at no pains -whatever to conceal her rebellious attitude towards the throne. - -Mary greeted her gently. - -"It would be more fitting if you would give me some of your company, -Anne; Queen Catherine's sentiments are well noised abroad--you need -not--laugh--with her at such a time." - -Anne sank down on the other end of the settee; the ladies behind the -Queen withdrew, leaving the sisters alone; the musicians were playing a -monotonous little march in the gallery. - -"We should display a united front now," continued Mary unsteadily. - -"I don't know what you mean, Madam," answered Anne almost insolently; -she never used any manner of respect to the Queen; she considered that -she was of as much importance; she never ceased to flaunt that she was -the mother of the child who would be the future King of England. - -Mary gazed at her pouting, overblown comeliness with sad eyes. - -"You will not understand," she answered. "You take a pleasure in doing -everything contrary to what I do----" - -Anne smoothed her grey satin skirt with a plump white hand. - -"Our tastes are different," she said. - -Mary was silent. Anne kept her languid eyes downcast, then jerked out-- - -"I have writ to the King for the vacant Garter for my Lord Marlborough. -I hope Your Majesty will use your influence?" - -Mary coloured hotly. - -"You have writ to the King in Ireland on such a matter?" - -"And so hath the Prince. It is allowable to write to the King, I hope?" - -"You should have spoken to me first," answered Mary, with trembling -lips. "I have no mind that the King should be vexed with these things. -I do not think he meaneth the Garter for Lord Marlborough." - -Anne flung up her head with a force that set her huge pearl earrings -quivering. - -"And who better deserveth it, I should like to know? I suppose it is -meant for Lord Portland, or some other Dutchman?" - -"Anne, you are infatuate to speak so. The services of my Lord -Marlborough have been well rewarded." - -At that Anne burst out with what had evidently been her secret -grievance. - -"He is slighted on every possible occasion--'tis he who should have -reviewed the militia this afternoon!" - -Mary turned angrily. - -"This is my Lady Marlborough her doing; she put this into your head, -Anne, and it is too much." - -"Yes, it is too much," answered Anne, "that Your Majesty should have -such a dislike to my friend." - -"Her insolence," exclaimed Mary, "is beyond all bearing. I have it on -good report that she hath spoken of the King with great disrespect." - -"She ain't the only one if she hath," retorted Anne. "His Majesty ain't -so popular----" - -"I command you stop," said Mary, in a cold tone of deep anger. - -Anne submitted sulkily. - -"La, I meant no harm." - -"You go too far," answered Mary in a low controlled tone. "His Majesty -thinketh it ungenerous to quarrel with a woman, or your behaviour would -have been put a stop to before. I, perhaps, shall not be so long -enduring. I cannot and will not take the defiance of my Lady -Marlborough--no, nor your incivility either, Anne." - -"I don't suppose Your Majesty would hesitate to clap me up if you -dared," said Anne, lashed by the attack on her favourite. "There is one -of your relations in the Tower, and where the uncle is the sister may -follow; but I warn Your Majesty that I have the Parliament behind -me----" - -Again Mary interrupted. - -"Leave me until you can command yourself." - -Anne hesitated, but the music that had screened their talk had ceased, -and beyond a point Mary always quelled her. She rose, courtsied -haughtily, and withdrew to the other end of the gallery, where Lady -Marlborough--a gorgeous blonde shrew with a vulgar voice--was playing -comet with Prince George for partner. - -Mary closed her eyes for a second. This sordid quarrel with her sister, -mainly based on demands for money, was the last bitterness of her -position; she had tried every means of conciliation in vain. Lady -Marlborough's hold on her puppet was too firm, and Anne but took -advantage of any kindness from the Queen to press for an addition to her -already huge allowance. - -The violins played a gavotte. Mary sat motionless, listening to the -subdued volume of talk by which she was surrounded, and thinking of that -far-distant day when she had danced with her husband in this very -room--a week or so before her marriage. - -She recalled how she had enjoyed dancing, and wondered to think how dead -that passion was. - -"I used to think," she thought, "that a dance measure would lure me from -my grave, and now the gayest melody written will not move me." - -She gazed over her shoulder at her reflection in the tall mirror against -the wall to the left; she beheld a fair image, in yellow silk and -diamonds, with a very proud carriage. A Queen, young and beautiful--the -description sounded like a favoured creature from one of those fairy -tales she used to read; she knew the reality--a tired woman, unutterably -lonely, estranged from all her family, childless, and forlorn. - -Queen Catherine came to take her leave. - -"No news yet from Ireland?" she asked, in her awkward English. - -Mary courteously rose before the woman who had been Queen in Whitehall -when she was a child. - -"None, Madam." - -The Queen Dowager hesitated a moment, then said-- - -"I have not failed of late to put up prayers for His Majesty's good -success." - -"I thank you, Madam." - -Catherine of Braganza pulled at her curling feather fan and laughed. - -"We are both in a strange position, are we not?" - -"The positions God put us in," said Mary coldly. She wondered why the -other woman paused to talk. - -The Queen Dowager continued to smile over her fan. - -"I think to go back to Portugal." - -"That must be as Your Majesty pleaseth." - -"England is no longer the same to me." - -Mary's hand tightened on the rich back of the settle. She read -perfectly well the scorn of the Stewart's wife for the usurper and the -Protestant. - -"I find Whitehall a little dull," continued Catherine, with a malicious -twist of her lip. "Geneva bands and black coats are a strange sight in -these halls----" - -"Certainly they were not seen here in the days of my Lady Portsmouth," -flashed Mary. - -The little Portuguese winced slightly, but ignored the thrust. - -"I do not blame Your Majesty," she said. "You are not so fortunate in -your court as I was; the Dutch," she raised her thin shoulders in a -shrug, "do not make the best of courtiers----" - -"No," answered Mary impetuously; "but they make good husbands, Madam." - -Catherine made no attempt to turn this hit. She put her hand to her -dark throat, and her large melancholy eyes filled with tears. She -answered the thought and not the words. - -"I cared as much as you do, all the same;" she said, "and I shall always -be a Jacobite for his--worthless--sake." - -"Forgive me," murmured Mary instantly. "I had no right. But do you be -charitable. I am in great trouble, Madam, and very much alone." - -Catherine lifted her small olive face with a kind of defiant brightness. - -"We have that loneliness in common, Madam. If you or I had an heir it -would have all been different. I shall say a mass for your husband his -safety. Good night, Your Majesty." - -She swept her grave foreign courtsey and retired, followed by her silent -duennas. Mary stood pressing her handkerchief to her lips, and felt the -whole pageant of people, lights, speech, music, swing past her like -reflections on troubled water--broken, scattered without substance or -meaning. - -No news came. - -She dismissed the Court presently and went to her rooms; it was late, -long past ten o'clock, yet she would not go to bed, but sat in her -cabinet writing to the King. Sheet after sheet she covered with news, -hopes, fears, love, entreaties for God's blessings--all her heart indeed -laid out before her one confidant. - -The candlelight hurt her eyes, weaker of late with work and tears, and -at last she folded up the letter unfinished. The express did not go -till the morning, and she hoped that by then she might have the -long-looked-for news from Ireland. - -When she rose from her desk she was utterly tired, yet could not -rest--there was so much to do. - -Her letter to Admiral Evertgen, which she had written with great pains -in Dutch, had been returned as unintelligible, and now she must write -again in English, which language the Admiral understood perfectly, it -seemed. There was the question of the command of the Fleet on her mind; -Russell and Monmouth had been met at Canterbury by the news of the -disaster of Beachy Head, and now were back in London, hot against -Torrington; Mary feared that the King would be vexed with her for having -let them leave the council, yet she must again send some one to the -Fleet, now without a commander. Her choice had fallen on Pembroke, who -was an admiral, and Devonshire, whom she could trust, and thereupon -Caermarthen had taken umbrage, and it had been a weary work of tact and -sweetness to prove to him that he was indispensable in London and could -not be spared--yet perhaps she had been wrong, and she should have let -him go. - -All these lesser anxieties crowded on her weary soul, aching with the -desire for news from the King, and, as she left her cabinet and came -into her bedchamber, a profound melancholy overthrew her gallant spirit. - -Only two of her ladies were up--Madame de Marsac and Madame Nienhuys. -Mary told them to go to bed, and cast herself into the window-seat and -pulled the curtains apart from before the windows open on the warm soft -night. - -"It is Your Majesty who should go to bed," said Madame Nienhuys firmly. - -Mary shook her head. - -"I cannot. I cannot sleep until I get a letter." - -"You neither sleep nor eat," protested the Dutch lady. - -"I am very well," smiled Mary sadly. "Go to bed, like a good -creature----" - -"Indeed, Madam, I will not leave you in this state." - -"Have you been with me so long that you become disobedient? Very well, -put out some of the candles--the light hurts my eyes." - -Basilea de Marsac rose softly and extinguished all the candles, save -those on the mantelshelf. The large rich chamber was full of grateful -shadow. Mary's yellow gown gleamed secretively like gold through a -veil. - -She took the diamonds from her neck and arms and gave them to Madame -Nienhuys. She pulled off her rings slowly, and dropped them into her -lap, looking the while out on to the July dark, that seemed to her to be -painted with the menacing forces of war, flags, banners hanging bloody -to their poles, the hot, smoking mouths of cannon, the glitter of armour -through the dust--her husband's army and her father's struggling -together to the death. - -She rose so suddenly that the rings fell and rolled all over the floor. - -"I think I will go to bed after all," she said faintly. - -They undressed her in silence and left her wide-eyed in the great -crimson bed, canopied and plumed and enriched with the arms of England. - -When they had gone she lay for a while quite still. There was no moon, -and she could not distinguish a single object in the room, and only -uncertainly the dim spaces of the window. - -All that had seemed small, petty, and wretched in the daytime seemed a -thousand times more mean and unworthy now. She was haunted by the stiff -little figure of Queen Catherine, whose personality had suddenly flashed -out on her, by the fair sullen image of Anne, and the vulgar enmity of -Lady Marlborough. She was tortured by the idea that she had done -everything wrong.... - -She sat up in bed and locked her hands over her heart. - -"I must not despair--God will not let me despair," she clung to that -word, "God--ah, He knoweth best--He seeth what man cannot see--therefore -He did not give me children, knowing I could not have endured this if -their safety had been at stake." - -The Palace clock struck one. Like an echo came the bell of the Abbey -Church, then the dead silence again. - -The Queen rose from her bed and made her way lightly to the -dressing-table. After a little fumbling she found the tinderbox and -struck a light. - -The silver table, the enamel, jade, and gold boxes glittered into points -of light. In the depths of the mirror she saw her own face lit by the -little flame she held. - -It flared out between her cold fingers. She struck another and lit one -of the tall candles in the red copper stands. - -By the dim wavering light she found her scarlet shoes and a little -mantle of fox's fur that she put on over her muslin night-dress. She -then took up the candlestick, which was so heavy that it made her wrist -shake, and quietly left the room, which opened into the cabinet. - -Here she paused at the red lac desk, unlocked it with the gold key she -wore round her neck, and took out a packet tied with orange ribbon. - -These were the letters she had received from the King since his -departure. She looked at them tenderly, took up her candle again, and -passed on through an antechamber to a private door that led straight -into the chapel. - -Her feeble light gave her glimpses of the lofty walls panelled in cedar -wood, the majestic altar of white marble gilt, and the great painting -brought from Italy--all heavenly blue, and deep crimson, and angelic -faces breaking from rosy clouds. - -Mary went to the altar steps, set the candle on the topmost one, then -fell on her knees with her letters pressed to her heart. - -As she prayed she bent lower and lower till her beautiful head touched -the marble, and there it rested while she sobbed out her humble prayers -for her husband, her father, for England, for her own poor tired soul. - -She grew cold as she lay across the altar steps, and peaceful in her -heart. She thought God was not so displeased with her; a confidence -rose in her bosom that he would not let His cause fail though her -weakness.... - -A gentle confusion came over her senses, and she fell into a kind of -swoon; when this passed she found that her candle had burnt to the -socket and gone out, and that a blue dawn was lighting the glowing arms -of England in the painted glass windows. - -She got to her feet, shivering but calm, and went back stealthily -through the vast silent rooms, filled with the early sun, and so reached -her bed; and, for the first time for weeks, fell placidly asleep. Next -morning when she woke she was very silent; but, as her ladies thought, -more at ease. - -She had hidden her letters under her pillow, and when she was dressed -slipped them into her gown. - -As she left her apartments on the way to the chapel she was met by Lord -Nottingham. - -The news from Ireland at last! - -"The King is safe, Madam," said my lord, in pity of her face. - -She stood speechless; those about her were little less moved. The -silence hung heavy. - -"His late Majesty is also safe," added my lord delicately. - -She spoke then. - -"I--I thank you." - -She tore open her letters, but could not read them. - -"Oh, tell me, sir," she said hoarsely. - -"Madam, the King hath had a great victory at Boyne Water. Ireland is -conquered." - -Even as he spoke the bells broke out from a thousand steeples and the -guns of the Tower boomed triumph. - -"The news is just abroad," said Nottingham. - -Mary flushed into a glorious exaltation. - -"The _King_ hath redeemed us all!" she cried, with inexpressible pride. -"The _King_ hath saved us!" - -"Not the King alone, Madam," answered my lord, with a flush on his -shallow face--"listen to these----" - -From without came the sound of wild joyous murmurs from the crowd that -had gathered to hear the news. As it sped from mouth to mouth a frenzy -of relief and triumph shook the people. They burst into one shout that -drowned the cannon and the bells-- - -"Long live the Queen! God save and bless the Queen!" - - - - - CHAPTER VII - - THE SHADOW - - -Mr. Matthew Prior, Private Secretary to the Earl of Portland, was -enjoying the winter sunshine in the gardens of Hampton Court Palace. - -It was the year 1694, and near Christmas. Many vast events had taken -place since the young poet had been first introduced to the Court by my -Lord Dorset--plots, counter-plots, change of ministers, of parliaments, -the defeat of Landen and Steinkirk, the great victory at La Hogue, the -loss of the Smyrna Fleet, four bloody campaigns, four winters of gloom, -depression, and internal convulsion, and still, as by a kind of miracle, -the two lonely princes ruling England maintained their station and kept -their faces calmly to their enemies. - -Mr. Prior was a grateful soul; he adored the King and worshipped the -Queen; he had berhymed both copiously, and was ever ready to use his -sword or his wit in their behalf. The last of the King's unending -differences with the Parliament was on the matter of the Triennial Bill, -and Mr. Prior had his tablets on his knee and his pencil in his hand. - -He was engaged in composing a pamphlet in defence of His Majesty's -action in firmly refusing to curtail the regal authority by passing an -Act that permitted no parliament to sit longer than three years. - -But it was cold, and the neat little secretary found his fingers too -stiff to write. He returned his papers to his pocket, rose, and walked -on briskly. - -Both palace and grounds were now very noble, being designed closely -after the King's house at Loo: trees, thirty-five years old, had been -transplanted either side of a wide canal that had been cut opposite the -Palace; beds were shaped, walks laid down, shrubs cut after the Dutch -style; every endeavour had been used to make the place as much like -Holland as possible. Even now, in mid-winter, topiary art had preserved -monstrous box hedges and bushes in the shape of windmills, birds, and -animals. - -The day was cloudy, but the sun streamed through in a fine gold light on -the splendid front of the Palace, still unfinished but very imposing. - -Mr. Prior turned to the left, where was the privy garden directly -beneath the royal apartments, and the covered walk where the Queen would -sit in summer with her ladies, sewing and reading. There, too, was a -small sunk Dutch garden, with a fountain in the centre and tiled paths, -bare now of everything save a few evergreens, but in the spring a mass -of blooms from Holland. - -Here walked two ladies and a gentleman, all muffled in furs, and talking -together with some earnestness. - -Mr. Prior took off his hat; he recognized the Queen, his patron, the -Earl of Portland, and Lady Temple. He was passing respectfully on when -Mary called to him. - -He came up to her, and she paused to speak to him. - -"My lord tells me you are just returned from The Hague?" questioned -Mary. - -"Yes, Madam." - -"I envy you," said the Queen wistfully; "it is, Mr. Prior, such a dream -with me to see The Hague again." - -The ardent little poet thought he had never seen her look so beautiful. -There was an almost unnatural lustre in her eyes, an almost unnatural -brightness on her lip and cheek; the fresh wind had stirred the auburn -hair from her brow, and the fitful sunlight touched it to sparkles of -red gold. - -"The Hague liveth only in hopes of one day seeing Your Majesty," he -answered. "You are most extraordinarily beloved there, Madam." - -"They were always very good to me," said Mary simply. "I still feel an -exile here--but you must not breathe that, Mr. Prior," she added almost -instantly. - -"Are you returning to Holland?" - -"Very soon, Madam." - -"Well," smiled Mary, "I hope that when next I see you it may be at my -house in The Hague--for I have good hopes that I may be free to go there -soon. Let me at least flatter myself so." - -She dismissed him kindly and continued her walk, keeping her gloved hand -affectionately on Lady Temple's arm. - -"What is this of the Duke of Leeds?" she asked Portland. - -"They say he is to be impeached in the new Parliament, Madam, for taking -money from the East India Company." - -Mary frowned. - -"That is a hit at me," added Portland calmly. - -"And at the King," she said proudly. "There is no end to the spite of -these people. Heard you also that Sir John Dalrymple must go for the -Glencoe affair?" - -"If the Parliament had their way, it would be his head and not his place -he lost." - -"It seemeth to have been a cruel thing," said Mary, "if it is true? But -I am sorry for the Duke of Leeds (Danby he always is to me) for he has -been a faithful servant." - -"The King would like to employ Sunderland, who lieth quiet at Althorp," -said Portland, with some bitterness. "A villain if there ever was one!" - -Mary glanced at him anxiously. - -"The King doth not love Sunderland," she said, "but might find him -useful." - -"Will he persuade His Majesty to pass the Triennial Bill?" asked Lady -Temple. - -"No man can do that," answered the Queen. "If any could have done it, -it would have been your lord, a year ago--but nothing will move the King -once his mind is resolved." She laughed, and added, "You both have -known him longer than I have--tell me if you ever knew him change his -decision?" - -"Never," said Portland. "When he was a child he was immovable." - -"Sir William hath wasted eloquence on him more than once," smiled Lady -Temple. - -The sun had suddenly gone in, and a greyness overspread the gardens. - -"Let us go in," said Mary. - -They entered the Palace by the private door that led to the King's -apartments. Portland prepared to leave for Whitehall, where His Majesty -stayed to open the Parliament, and the two ladies went to the Queen's -great gallery, that was fine and beautifully furnished, though but ill -heated by the one fireplace where the pine logs blazed. - -They joined the little company gathered about the fire and protected by -tall lacquer and silk screens. - -Mary took off her furs and drew close to the flames. She was shivering -violently. - -"The room is too large," she said, "but a noble apartment, is it not?" - -She had taken great pride in furnishing Hampton Court and Kensington -House, and in introducing and making fashionable the arts and crafts of -Holland--the pottery, the brass-ware, the painted wood, and wrought -silver. - -The ladies answered in eager praises. The Queen's modest court now -consisted of a set of gentle ladies, Dutch and English, who were her -constant companions; their piety, their charity, their blameless lives, -their industry with the needle, made them utterly different to the -ladies of the two last reigns, and set an example which had made -soberness fashionable, at least in many homes; for Mary had won England -as, many years before, she had won her husband, and was now nearly as -beloved in London as at The Hague--at least among the common people. - -One fashion she set was a rage through the country--this was the -collecting of strange and monstrous pieces of old china. - -Above the yellow brocade chair where she now sat was a shelf laden with -vases and figures of extraordinary shapes and violent colours. Mary -loved them all; she looked up at them with a little smile, then took up -the book from which she had been reading to her ladies, but dropped it -on to her lap, and sat with an air of lassitude, gazing into the flames. - -"The truth is," she said, "I have a great headache, and have had one -this three days past." - -"It is the wind," answered Lady Nottingham. - -Mary shivered. - -"I have taken cold, I think," she remarked. She laughed; she was more -than usual gay. - -She was expecting the King in a few days, and, for the moment, the -troubles and difficulties had a little cleared from his path. For the -first time since the war began the last campaign had decided in favour -of the allies; the weight of England was beginning to tell in the -balance. Mary could not forget that; it coloured her days with -pleasure. - -"I think the ball will be popular," she continued irrelevantly; "every -one seemeth very pleased----" - -"What is the date, Madam?" asked Lady Temple. - -"The twenty-eighth--about a week from now," answered Mary. "I am to -have a new dress!" She laughed again; she seemed, for her, to be very -excited. "I shall put it on presently, and you must judge of it." - -She leant back in her chair, and was suddenly silent. The short day was -darkening; sullen crimson, presaging rain, burnt fitfully in the west, -and a gloomy brightness reflected through the windows of the great -gallery, and struck changeful colour from the mother-of-pearl figures on -the black china screens. - -Mary coughed and shivered. She turned to Madame Nienhuys. - -"When is your cousin coming to Court?" she asked. - -"Not yet, Madam. I had a letter from The Hague yesterday from her -mother saying she would send her in the spring." - -"Why not sooner?" asked the Queen. - -"She saith she is frightened by the reports of the plague in London." - -"They say it is worse this year," assented Mary. "And the smallpox." - -"And the smallpox, Madam. But it is foolish of my cousin to be so -timid." - -"Yes," said Mary gravely; "since timidity will save no one. God doth His -will, despite our fears." - -She opened the work-table beside her and took out a chair-cover she was -working with a design of birds and flowers on a black ground. She made -a languid attempt to thread the needle, then dropped the sewing as she -had the book. - -"I will try that gown on," she said, "and then we will make tea in the -little antechamber--this is so large." - -The ladies rose with a pretty rustle of skirts, folded up their work, -and followed Mary through Sir Christopher's noble apartments to her -chamber, which was very exactly furnished but cold. - -On the canopied bed of blue and yellow damask lay the Queen's new gown, -and two sewing-girls sat on low stools and stitched the lace into the -sleeves. - -At Mary's approach they rose silently. - -"How cold it is!" shivered Mary. "Put me down a grumbler, but we had -warmer houses at The Hague." - -"But the dress is beautiful!" cried Lady Nottingham, and the five ladies -gathered about the bed with exclamations of admiration. - -It was of white velvet, embroidered with little wreaths of coloured silk -flowers opening over a silver petticoat trimmed with flounces of lace. -The sewing-maidens eyed it shyly, and blushed at the compliments -bestowed. - -"I must dance in that," smiled Mary. "Dancing used to be one of my -prettiest pleasures, as you may remember, my Lady Temple!" - -"Will Your Majesty try it on?" asked Basilea de Marsac. - -"Yes," laughed Mary, "the sewing-girls will help me; get you into the -other room and make the tea----" - -The ladies trooped off, and the two sempstresses timidly helped Mary out -of her brown velvet and laced her into the state dress. - -A fire was burning, and the Queen stood between it and the bed, facing -the long glass mirror above the mantelshelf that was crowded with china -grotesques. As they pinned, arranged, and draped the rich silk about -her, Mary felt a sudden great fatigue; her limbs were heavy beneath her, -and she gave a little sigh of weariness. - -The dress was cut very low, and one sleeve was yet unfinished, so her -shoulders and left arm were bare save for her shift, and, as she moved -for her skirt to be adjusted, that slipped. The Queen noticed this in -the mirror, and put up her right hand to draw it up, when suddenly a -deep shiver ran through her. She stepped back, clutching the dress -together on her shoulder. - -"It is too dark to see," she said levelly. "There is a silver lamp in -my cabinet--will you fetch that?" - -The sewing-girls looked surprised. The light still held, and there were -candles in the room; but they left at once, with respectful courtesies. - -The instant they had gone the Queen sprang to the door and locked it, -then went back to the bed and leant heavily against the post nearest the -fire. - -She felt sick and weak; her head was giddy. - -"Be quiet--be quiet," she said aloud, and pressed her clenched knuckles -against her leaping heart. - -Only for a second did this weakness endure. She returned to the glass -and turned her chemise down; there she saw again what had made her send -the sewing-girls away--a large purple patch on the white flesh, -unmistakable. - -For an instant she stood gazing, then sat down in the majestic arm-chair -beside the bed. There was another test she knew of--she winced from -applying it, yet presently rose and took from a side-table near the tall -clock a rat-tailed spoon she used for rose-water. - -She put the bowl of this far back into her mouth, and then withdrew it; -the silver was covered with bright blood. - -Footsteps sounded without. Mary flung the spoon on to the fire and -softly unlocked the door. - -The sempstresses entered with the silver lamp, dutifully lit and placed -it on the mantelshelf. - -Mary stood holding her garments tightly together on her breast. - -"Have you ever had the smallpox?" she asked gently. - -They both answered together. - -"Yes, Your Majesty; but not the black smallpox, an it please Your -Majesty." - -Mary looked into their fair, undisfigured faces. - -"No," she answered; "the black smallpox is ever fatal, is it not----" - -"They say so, Your Majesty," said the elder girl, pinning up the lace on -the silver underskirt. "And there is a deal of it in London now, Your -Majesty." - -Mary made no reply. They finished with the dress and left her, having -laced her into the brown velvet. - -The Queen put out the silver lamp and went into the antechamber where -the ladies were chattering over the tea Lady Temple was making in a -Burmese silver urn. - -Mary seated herself near the fire. - -"We will go to Kensington House to-morrow," she said. Then, noticing -Lady Temple's look of surprise, she added, with a slight tremor in her -voice, "I have a fancy to be near the King." - - - - - CHAPTER VIII - - FEAR - - -My Lord Sunderland was climbing from obscurity, disgrace, and infamy to -that great position he had once held--climbing very cautiously, working -secretly, biding his time, venturing a little here, a little there, -helped always by my lady and some few ancient friends. - -The King had been obliged to leave him out of the Act of Grace. He was, -nevertheless, at this moment waiting for a private audience of His -Majesty, who had already visited him in his princely palace at Althorp. - -The King had gone in state to Parliament; my lord did not care to yet -take his seat in the House on great occasions; he preferred to wait in -Whitehall and reflect quietly on his policies. - -He believed that the summit of his ambitions was about to be reached; he -had staked on William of Orange twenty years ago, and had never lost -faith in him. The King was not a man to be ungrateful. Sunderland saw -close within his grasp the moment he had worked for steadily, -unscrupulously, so long--the moment when William of Orange and he should -rule England together. - -From his seclusion at Althorp he had watched the King's stormy reign, -and known that if he had been at William's right hand half the troubles -would have been averted or smoothed over. - -He was even scheming to make the Court popular; the attitude of the -people towards his hero considerably annoyed him. - -It was undeniable that the irreproachable example of the Court awoke in -the English more ridicule than respect or admiration; they regarded with -a sneer the sincere efforts of the gentle young Queen to elevate and -dignify her position, to improve the tone of a corrupt society. The -industrious simplicity of the King, his dislike of blasphemy, -evil-speaking, and frivolous amusements, his private tolerance, justice, -and modesty were as so many causes of offence to a people regretting -former princes so much more suited to their temper. They missed the -pageant that had continually entertained them at Whitehall, the money -that had been squandered by the Court in a manner so pleasing to the -national extravagance, the continual spectacle of the King in the -obvious exercise of gracious royalty, even the gay ladies whose -histories had diverted a generation. This humour provoked cynical -smiles from William and distressed comment from Mary. Sunderland -resolved to alter it; he saw the truth; he knew that nothing but genius -in the man every one combined to disparage could have kept the nation -together, and nothing but the greatest courage and strength on the part -of the woman they affected to dismiss as a cipher could have maintained -a government during the Irish war. - -Sunderland largely blamed the ministers. Halifax had failed, -Caermarthen (now Leeds) was failing, the others had never been really -trusted by the King, who relied mainly on secret advisers, such as -Carstairs, Temple, his Dutch friends, and lately Sunderland himself. - -My lord knew that he could do better than any of these; he had the great -advantage of understanding the King; he even believed that he could make -him again as beloved in England as he had been in '88. - -William was no boor, but of noble blood thrice refined; his passionate -nature and the constant control he had put it under made him break out -fiercely sometimes against the foolish and the vexatious; he never -flattered, and he took no trouble to please women. Natural modesty and -the languor of ill-health made him refuse to concede to the national -love of display; but he was beloved abroad, and Sunderland believed he -could be beloved in England. My lord resolved to persuade him to go to -Newmarket this year; he flattered himself that he had a considerable -influence over William. - -He became impatient for the King to return; he went to the window and -looked at the surging crowd beyond the courtyard waiting for a sight of -the Royal coach. It was not likely to be greeted very warmly, for the -King was, a second time, going to veto the Triennial Bill, a great -popular measure which, from the first, he had set his face against. - -Sunderland upheld him; to consent to the Bill would be an enormous -concession to the people, and my lord had no love for the democracy, -but, like William, had a high ideal of the rights of the Crown. He took -pleasure now in thinking of the King's firm stand and the disappointment -of this crowd when the news of the vetoed Bill was flashed from mouth to -mouth. - -As he watched, standing within the silver-corded curtains, a party of -halberdiers suddenly scattered the people to right and left, a company -of soldiers drove up, and then the Royal coach came, unusually fast, -swinging on its leathers. - -A deep hum rose from the crowd; some broke into cheering, hats were -thrown up, and handkerchiefs waved. Sunderland had never seen the King -receive such a cordial reception. - -He withdrew from the window, surprised, a little puzzled. - -The satisfied murmur of the crowd continued. - -"Why--is it possible----" cried my lord. - -He hastened to seek out the King. - -William was in his dressing-room, disrobing. M. Zulestein was with him, -and several other nobles. - -Gold-embroidered purple, scarlet and ermine, the collar and star of the -George lay tossed on one of the gilt walnut chairs; the King, in silk -shirt and white satin breeches, sat by a marquetry dressing-table with a -letter in his hand. - -Sunderland entered as one sure of his welcome. William had promised him -countenance if he would come to Court. - -"Your Majesty----" he began. - -The King looked at him blankly; his face, between the dark curls, was of -a startling whiteness. - -"Ah, sir," said Sunderland, "do I break in upon Your Majesty?" - -"No," answered William vaguely. - -My lord looked round the other nobles; they seemed strangely silent. - -"Sir, how went it in Parliament?" he asked, approaching the King. - -William made a heavy effort to answer. - -"I--well enough--they----" His voice trailed off. - -Sunderland stood utterly amazed. Was this man going to fail? - -"Sir, the Triennial Bill?" he questioned half fearfully. - -The King rose; he seemed utterly unnerved; he whom my lord had ever -considered beyond the touch of weakness. - -"I passed it," he said faintly. - -The colour flashed into Sunderland's face. - -"You did!" he cried. "You made that great concession. By God, if any -but Your Majesty had made that statement I should have disbelieved -them----" - -The King did not seem to hear him; he called distractedly for his coat, -and walked up and down the splendid little chamber with his head bent. - -Sunderland, sick at heart, drew M. de Zulestein aside. - -"What is the matter with the King?" he whispered. "I should not have -known him----" - -"He hath been all day like a man in a confusion," answered the Master of -the Robes. - -"And to give way," muttered Sunderland. "To concede like any weakling!" - -William mechanically took from one of the lords his coat, sword, and -hat, and stood still a moment before the chair on which his orders -glittered on his robes, like frozen coloured water gleaming in the -winter sunlight. - -"Is the coach ready?" he asked abruptly. - -"Your Majesty," reminded M. de Zulestein, "is to dine in public here -to-day----" - -"No," said the King, "I will go at once to Kensington House--hasten the -coach----" - -"But there are a number of people already gathered--it will cause -grievous offence----" - -The King stared at him with wild dark eyes. - -"My God, I will not stay an instant." - - M. de Zulestein bowed. - -At this moment Lord Portland entered; they saw him with profound relief, -believing that, if any could, he would fathom and combat the King's -humour. - -At sight of him William flushed with animation. Portland crossed to him -at once; he seemed himself troubled in his manner. - -The King caught his hand and pressed it inside his open satin waistcoat, -over his heart. - -"Do you feel that?" he asked. "Have you ever known it beat so?--that is -fear, William, fear----" - -He spoke in his own language, and with an extraordinary energy and -passion. - -"The letter," asked Portland tenderly, "that was handed you as we -started----" - -"From Sir Thomas Millington," said the King; he put it into his friend's -hands and sank on to the chair beside the dressing-table; he seemed -utterly unconscious of the watchful eyes upon him, of the presence, -indeed, of any but Portland. - -That lord read the letter of Sir Thomas (he was the King's physician) -with, it seemed, some relief. - -"Why, he merely saith the Queen is not well." - -William answered hoarsely-- - -"Lady Temple came to Whitehall this morning when you were abroad ... you -know _she_ hath never had the smallpox." His voice broke; he stared out -of the window at the winter sky. - -"God in Heaven!" exclaimed Portland. "You do not think of _that_?" - -"Lady Temple," muttered the King, "said--_she_ had sent from -Kensington--every one, even to the maid-servants--who--had not had the -smallpox----" - -"That is but her own sweet kindness," cried Portland--"she cannot -know----" - -"I am afraid, afraid," answered the King. "My father, my mother, my -uncle ... all dead of that..." - -He sprang up and turned to the door. Sunderland was in his way, and -stayed him gently. - -"Sir--I entreat you do not disappoint the people--stay in Whitehall to -dine----" - -William looked at him fiercely. - -"Do you not hear that the Queen is sick?" - -Sunderland's face was cold; he was disappointed in the King. - -"What of this Bill for the Calling of Parliaments?" he said. "I would -like to hear some good reason for that concession on the part of Your -Majesty." - -William made no answer; he put out his hand and motioned my lord out of -his way. Sunderland stepped aside and the King left the room. They -heard his high heels going quickly down the corridors. - -Portland turned to M. de Zulestein. - -"Why, he hath known two days that the Queen was not well." - -"It was Lady Temple," answered the Master of the Robes. "She told him -Her Majesty was worse than she would admit." - -"But the doctors----" - -"You know the King hath never had any trust in doctors--and certainly it -giveth an ill-colour that she hath sent away all that are like to be -infected." - -"Meanwhile the Bill is passed," said Sunderland. "And I have -misreckoned on the King." - -He took his leave haughtily of the Dutch nobles, and they went after the -King. An excited and disturbed crowd filled the galleries and the -banqueting hall where the dishes were already on the table and the lords -ready to serve. - -The King had already left Whitehall in the Duke of Leeds' coach, with no -other company but that nobleman. - -So completely deceived were the spectators who lined the way from the -Palace to the post office in Charing Cross to see the great people drive -away from Parliament that they, recognizing the arms and liveries of -Leeds (now unpopular by reason of the East India scandals), hooted -lustily, with no conception that the King was beside my lord. - -Nor did either King or minister care one whit whether the crowd hooted -or cheered. Leeds was on the verge of ruin, and knew it, yet thought -little about that; he had a peculiar regard for the Queen, a peculiar -loyalty towards the King; his thoughts, like his master's, were with -that lady whose life meant so much to England. - -In half an hour they were at Kensington House; in a few minutes more the -King, the Duke's mantle over his white satins and the garter still round -his knee, was by Mary's side in the long Queen's gallery. - -She was seated close to the fire with Basilea de Marsac and Madame de -Nienhuys--very languidly seated, with her hands in her lap and a blue -scarf about her shoulders. - -Her extravagant joy at the King's coming was piteous to see. - -"So soon!" she cried, and her whole face changed. "I thought it could -not be till this evening ... but were they not expecting you to dine at -Whitehall?" - -"No matter for that," he answered breathlessly. "You--you are no -worse?" - -"Oh, I am well again," smiled Mary; "but you will make yourself -unpopular if you disappoint the people--yet I am glad you came--I -thought I must see you--that is why I came from Hampton yesterday, -forgive me--but even the sound of the Tower guns as you went to -Parliament was company----" - -She paused, and seemed rather exhausted by the effort of speaking. -William noticed with unutterable anxiety that the hand he held was -burning hot and that she shivered continuously, yet she was so joyous, -smiling, and lovely he could not trust his own fears. - -The two ladies had withdrawn to the other end of the gallery. The King -took the stool beside Mary. - -"Did you pass the Parliament Bill?" she asked. - -"Yes," he said, never taking his eyes from her face and speaking as if -it was a matter of no moment. - -"Ah, why?" she asked, startled. - -"I did not care; what doth it matter? Do not talk of business, Marie." - -"No," she said softly; "let us forget great affairs for once. I am so -weary, dear." - -"But you are better?" He could scarcely control his voice. - -She smiled brightly. - -"Oh yes; I was out driving this morning, and afterwards talking to Dr. -Burnet, and you know that taketh some energy--I think to have my ball -just the same next Saturday. I have remedied myself and not troubled -the doctors." - -He wished to ask her why she had given the orders about her household -that had so shaken him, but could not bring the words to his lips. - -Mary coughed a little, and sat up. - -"I wanted to ask you something," she said. "I am always begging--am I -not?" - -He pressed the hand he held between his so fiercely that his heavy rings -hurt her, but she continued smiling. - -"About Greenwich Palace," she added rather faintly. "I want it for a -hospital----" - -"I know, I know," he answered remorsefully. "You have spoken of it -before. It hath always been the cursed money, but you shall have it if -I have to pawn my furniture." - -"There are so many old seamen about," murmured Mary--"poor and -wounded--and many of them were at La Hogue and helped save us all. I -used to see them when I took my airing in Hyde Park, begging--one could -not forbear tears. And the hospitals are full. But Greenwich----" - -"It shall be," said William. "Give that no more thought. Wren shall -draw plans. It shall be as you wish, only get well again, and that -shall be my thankoffering." - -Looking and smiling at him she sat silent while the firelight flooded -her figure with gorgeous light; in that moment's stillness both of them -thought of love as a terrible thing. - -Mary suddenly closed her eyes. - -"Your mother," she said softly, "do you remember her?" - -He answered under his breath-- - -"Yes. Your name, my dear, your family, should I not remember her?" - -"When she died she was no older than I am--I often think how strangely -near her grave is. I think that Chapel in Westminster a sad spot. But -if we live with our thoughts on Death how can we be afraid? God would -not let one be afraid." - -"Why do you speak of death?" asked the King, in a trembling voice. "You -frighten me----" - -"Ah no," whispered Mary. "Death is not fearful. I have been idle -to-day, and thought of many strange things. I recalled a portrait of -your mother I found in a desk of yours when I first came to Holland--a -limning in little with white violets on the back, and these words, -'J'aime un seul.' That was a pretty thought of hers." - -She moved her head restlessly on the red cushions and lifted her heavy -lids. - -"I would we were at The Hague again," she said wistfully. - -"You shall go," he replied impetuously. "When the spring cometh we will -go together to The Hague, and be free of all of it----" - -"There is the war." - -"Let Waldeck take the command this campaign--I will stay with you. We -have had so little time together all these years." - -Mary gazed tenderly into his ardent face. - -"The spring seemeth so far off. Hold my hand. I feel as if the world -might pass from beneath us if we could sit thus and I not notice. You -will be with me this Christmas-tide?" - -"I shall not leave you," he said hoarsely. "I will nurse you till you -are well again. But you are not ill?" he added piteously. - -"No--tired a little." She sat up and put her hands on his shoulders. -"You do not regret the day they married you to your poor little cousin?" -The soft brown eyes were full of yearning. "She was such a foolish -child, so ignorant----" - -He could not speak, but made a movement of his hands to hers as if to -stop her. - -"Let me speak," said Mary sweetly. "I have thought so much about it -lately. We learnt everything so late--our mistakes last of all, I -think, and I have made many mistakes. Perhaps another woman would have -helped you more. But I have done my best--I wanted to say that--I have -always done my best." - -He managed to answer, but almost incoherently. - -"You shame me--utterly shame me--you--know what you have been to me----" - -Mary dropped her hands; the tears gathered in her eyes. - -"And I am childless," she faltered. - -He sprang up as if he wrenched himself free from torture. - -"Do not leave me," entreated Mary feebly. "I think I am not very well, -after all, and you promised to stay--forgive me--but indeed I think of -it and your great kindness." - -He turned about and leant over her chair. Mary clung to him with hot -hands. - -"No one could have loved you more," she said, in great agitation--"too -much, for my own peace----" - -Her fever-flushed face drooped against the lace on his bosom; he put his -arm round her, and she gave a great sigh; the tears were on her lashes -and running slowly down her face; he kissed her loose hair and the hand -on his shoulder. - -"God," he said, in an unsteady whisper, answering his own desperate -fears, "could not be so cruel." - - - - - CHAPTER IX - - CHRISTMAS EVE - - -Kensington House was hushed and dark; in only one room did a light burn, -and that was where the Queen of England sat alone in her cabinet with -the door locked and two tapers burning on her desk. - -It was long past midnight on Christmas Eve, and she supposed in bed; the -stillness was intense; the ticking of the little brass clock sounded -loud and steady--a solitary noise. - -Mary sat at the desk with her papers spread before her; she had burnt -many of them in the candle-flame, and a little pile of ashes lay on the -cold hearth. - -It was four days since she had first sickened, and the doctors said this -and that, disagreeing with each other, and constantly changing their -opinion; but Mary had never been deceived; she had cheated herself, she -had cheated the King, into a belief that she was lately better, but from -the moment in her bedchamber at Hampton Court when the thought of her -danger had first flashed on her, she had had an absolute premonition -that this was the end. All her life had been coloured by the sense she -would not live past youth. The first shock over, she did not grieve for -herself, but terribly, more terribly than she had conceived she could, -for the King. - -At first a kind of wild joy had possessed her that she would go first; -but the agony of leaving him alone was almost as awful as the agony of -being left. - -Because she could not endure to face his anguish she had so far -concealed from him both her certainty of her own approaching end and her -own belief as to her malady. Dr. Radcliffe alone among the physicians -had said smallpox, and been laughed at for his opinion, but the Queen -knew that he was right. "Malignant black smallpox," he had said, and she -knew he was right in that also. - -Few recovered from this plague; few lived beyond the week. - -Alone in the little cabinet, consecrated by so many prayers, -meditations, and tears, the young Queen faced her fate. - -"I am going to die," she said to herself. "I am going to die in a few -days." - -She sat back in her chair and caught her breath. The stillness seemed -to ache in her ears. So little done, so much unfinished, so many -storms, troubles, attempts, poor desperate endeavours, and now--the end. - -She recalled that when the King had been last on the Continent she had -been ill of a sore throat, and been so melancholy on account of the -dismal state of public affairs, the ingratitude and malice of the -people, that she had wished to die, but checked that thought, believing -that she could still be of service to her husband. And now it was no -wish or idle fancy, but the very thing itself. - -And she must leave him. - -Her deep piety made her think the agony she endured at that thought a -punishment for having so deeply loved a human creature. She tried to -fix her mind on God, but earthly affection was stronger. The image of -heaven became dim beside the image of him to whom her whole heart had -been given; the very tenderness that had been provoked in him by her -illness made it harder. - -At last she rose and went over to a little gilt escritoire in the -corner; there were locked away all the letters she had ever had from the -King, some from her father, a Prayer Book of her mother's before her -conversion, some of her own meditations and prayers, her diary, and -various little trifles with poignant associations. - -With the keys in her hand she hesitated, but courage failed her to open -any of the drawers; she returned to the large bureau and took up a sheet -of paper. - -She felt ill and cold; her limbs were heavy, her eyes ached, and her -head was full of pain. She made a strong effort of will to take up the -quill and write; at first the pen shook so there were mere ink-marks on -the paper. - -What she wrote were a few last requests to the King: that her jewels and -clothes might be given to her sister Anne, that her servants might be -looked after, that he would remember his promise with regard to the -hospital at Greenwich, and that if Leeds was disgraced the King would -deal mildly with him--"for he hath ever been a good servant to us." - -She did not trust herself to add words of affection, but wrote beneath, -"The Lord have thee in His keeping," folded it up with the ink scarce -dry, and rose to unlock the top drawer of the escritoire and place the -paper within. - -That done she relocked it and placed the key in her bosom. - -All her other papers and letters she had destroyed; her private affairs -were in order; she had not a debt nor an obligation in the world. There -was nothing more to do. - -She put her hands before her eyes and endeavoured to settle her -thoughts, to dismiss earthly matters and think only of God, but she -could not put the King out of her heart. Her thoughts ran past her own -death, and saw him lonely amidst his difficulties, without her aid to -smooth over little frictions, without her company in his infrequent -leisure, without her sympathy in his disappointments; in a thousand -little ways he scarcely knew of she had been able to help him, and now -there would be no one--no one to watch and notice and understand as she -had done; she could not trust even Portland to do what she had done. - -"God forgive me for this weakness," she murmured, in great distress. -"God strengthen and make it easy for us both." - -She rose and went to the window; she could see the black sky pierced -here and there by a few stars as the clouds parted--nothing else. - -On an instant the deep silence was rent by a clamour of sweet sound; the -sharp strong pealing of church bells rang out over the sleeping city. - -Mary knew that it was the village church of Kensington practising for -Christmas; she sank into the window-seat and fixed her eyes on those few -distant pale cold stars. - -She could not steady her thoughts. Old memories, pictures of dead days, -arose and disturbed her. She saw the sunlight on the red front of the -house at Twickenham and the little roses growing over the brick, herself -as a child playing in the garden, and the figure of her father standing -by the sundial looking at her, as he had stood once on one of his rare -visits--very handsome and tall and grave with long tasselled gloves in -his hand, she saw the hayfields beyond St. James's and the summer-tanned -labourers working there and a little girl in a blue gown asleep on a -gathered sheaf and Lady Villiers pointing out the last swallow and how -low it flew--so low that the light of the setting sun was over its back -and it was like a thing of gold above the rough stubble--she saw -pictures of The Hague--that beautiful town, and her own dear house, and -the wood... - -She remembered her presentiment, before William left for England, that -they were looking at the wood together for the last time. - -All over now, mere memory, and memory itself soon to end; she would -never see the flowers again either in England or Holland; she had looked -her last on blue sky and summer sun; she would never more go down to -Chester to welcome the King home from the war; she would never again cut -the sweet briar roses to place in the blue bowls at Hampton Court. - -It frightened her that she thought so of these earthly things, that she -could not detach her mind from the world. She endeavoured to fix her -attention on the bells, and they seemed to shake into the words of an -ancient hymn she had known as a child-- - - "O Lord, let Thou my spirit rise - From out this Press of turning Strife. - Let me look into Thy awful eyes - And draw from Thee Immortal Life." - - -The bells seemed to change into one of the endless little Dutch -carillons that she heard so often in her dreams; she put her hands -before her face-- - - "Take, dear Lord, the best of me, - And let it, as an Essence pressed - Like unto Like, win Immortality - Absorbed in Thy unchanging rest." - - -The bells paused and shuddered as if a rude hand had checked them; the -melody hesitated, then changed rhythm; a single bell struck out from the -rest in clear ringing, then stopped. - -For a little space the air was full of echoes, then a mournful stillness -fell. The Queen remained in the window-seat with her hands before her -eyes. - -When she raised her head one of the candles had guttered out and the -other was near its end. - -She had lost the sense of time, almost of place; it would have given her -no surprise to find she was sitting in the garden at The Hague or going -down the waterways of Holland in her barge; she did not notice the -darkness so ill-dispersed by that one flame burning tall, ragged, and -blue in the great silver stick; she began to say over her prayers in a -kind of exaltation; she went on her knees and pressed her face against -the smooth wood of the window-frame; she was murmuring to herself under -her breath as if she tried to lull her own soul to sleep; she got up at -last, not knowing what she did, and unlatched the window. - -She looked out on a ghastly dawn, pallid above the leafless trees, -against which a few flakes of snow fell heavily. The Queen stared at -this picture. The cold wind entered the chamber and a snowflake lightly -drifted in and changed to a crystal drop on the window-seat. - -She latched the window again and turned into the room; the last candle -had been out hours; the wax was hard round the frozen wick; a whole -night had passed with the drawing of a breath, and this was Christmas -morning. - -Above the chimney-piece was a mirror in a gold and ebony frame; the -Queen stepped up to it and looked at herself; she beheld a woman without -colour; her gown was black and her face and throat indistinguishable -from her crumpled lace collar; her hair was dark and without a glint in -the dead light; the pearls in her ears were ghostly pale; she thought -her features were very changed, being hollowed and sunk. - -"They cover the faces of the dead," she thought curiously; "they will -soon cover mine." She put her hand delicately under her chin. "Poor -face, that will never laugh or blush--or weep again!" - - - - - CHAPTER X - - THE QUEEN - - -Dr. Burnet was returning from his diocese of Sarum to Kensington Palace, -where he had been called by the grave reports of the Queen's sickness. - -On Christmas Day she had been something better, but towards the evening -notably worse; on Wednesday prayers were offered in all the churches, -and the new primate, Dr. Tenison, was summoned to join the other -prelates in attendance at Kensington. - -The Bishop of Sarum was joined in London by M. Zulestein, for whom he -had a peculiar friendship, and who came to urge haste. - -The Master of the Robes hoped that the Bishop's presence might have some -effect upon the astonishing and immoderate agitation of the King; he -confessed he had been glad to escape from the atmosphere of anxiety and -grief at Kensington. - -Soldier and priest made a melancholy journey in M. Zulestein's coach. -The Capital was very silent and awed. There could be no doubt now that -the Queen was beloved. - -"If she goes," said M. Zulestein bluntly, "he can never hold the throne. -His very title to it would be questioned. Without her where are we all?" - -Dr. Burnet answered unsteadily; he was deeply attached to Mary. - -"Do not speak like that, sir. She must live--even if it be smallpox, is -she not young and strong? Did not the King recover?" - -"He had it but slightly," answered M. Zulestein. "He was back at the -army in twenty days. They say it was his own resolution not to die and -the services of M. Portland that saved him, but I do not think this lady -hath any such will to live." - -"God bless us," cried the Bishop, "who would have thought a man of the -King's feeble constitution would have survived the Queen!" He shook his -head sorrowfully. "She was our principal hope, our support--a prince of -an extraordinary goodness." - -"If she dieth she hath the better part," answered the Dutchman. "I know -not how the King will well bear it--he hath hardly slept since her -illness--for fear of his cough disturbing her he will not lie in her -chamber, but hath his camp-bed in the anteroom--yet he is never on -it--he hath himself nursed her--day and night with such devotion and -care as moveth the heart." He paused, and added, with great emotion, -"Had you seen him as I have, in all manner of dangers and fatigues and -troubles, always master of himself, and of such an heroical courage that -he inflamed those about him, you would find it, sir, terrible to see him -as he is now." - -"When I last saw him he was struck beyond expression," answered Dr. -Burnet. "But I never thought his temper would bear an open display of -emotion." - -"You know him as well as any Englishman--yet you do not know him," said -M. Zulestein. - -The pompous self-love of the Bishop was rather hit at this, but he let -it pass (as he would not have done at any other time), and neither spoke -again before they reached Kensington House. - -They found the household in much disorder--the courtyard filled with -carriages, the corridors with messengers waiting for the news. M. -Zulestein told his companion that the Princess Anne (in open disgrace on -account of her championship of my Lord Marlborough, who had been -discovered in flagrant treachery) had sent a humble loving message, and -that the King had replied warmly, but requested her not to come till -there was a turn for the better. - -Dr. Burnet thought this answer of the King's looked as if the doctors -held out hope; he shouldered his way through the crowd to the Queen's -private apartments, and rather breathless and without ceremony he and M. -Zulestein put aside the ushers and entered the first antechamber of -Mary's apartments. - -It was empty save for a couple of curious, frightened servants; but the -door into the next room was open, and the two new-comers beheld an -extraordinary scene. - -A little group with their faces hidden stood before the window; near -them at the table was a florid, coarse-featured man, plainly dressed, -and cast down before him a gentleman in a violet coat--on his knees with -his hands raised in a gesture of abandoned entreaty. - -The back of this gentleman was towards Dr. Burnet. - -"Dear God!" he muttered, seizing M. Zulestein's arm, "is it--the King?" - -M. Zulestein, utterly pale, made a gesture of assent, and hastened -forward. The man before whom the King knelt stepped back in a kind of -desperation, and cried-- - -"If Your Majesty were to offer me your three kingdoms I could give you -no other answer!" - -At this the King fell forward on his face, and he was lying so, prone, -when the Bishop and M. Zulestein entered. - -Dr. Radcliffe wiped his forehead with his handkerchief, and looked round -half-defiantly. - -"Gentlemen," he said hoarsely, "I take you to witness I have done my -duty. His Majesty asked the truth. It is smallpox, and Her Majesty is -sinking rapidly. I was not called in until it was too late." - -Portland had come from the window, and was raising the King. - -"You have some courage, sir," he said grimly. - -Dr. Radcliffe retorted in self-defence-- - -"I did not undertake this for pleasure, your lordship; there was no one -else would dare tell His Majesty." - -Portland got the King to his feet; the others stood awkward and still; -William looked round and saw Dr. Burnet. - -"Did you hear?" he asked, under his breath--"did you hear?" - -He sank into the chair by the table. The Bishop approached with some -faltering words of comfort, but the King cut him short. - -"They say there is no hope of the Queen!" he broke out. "No hope! I was -the most happy creature upon earth, and now shall be the most miserable! -There was no fault in her, not one--you know her as well as any, but you -could not know her as I did--there was a worth in her none could know -but I!" - -With that he burst into a passion of tears, and hid his face on the -table in an abandonment of agony which amazed those about him, who knew -neither what to say nor do in face of this overthrow of the Master whom -they had always regarded as one who would preserve a decent control in -the face of any sorrow, since he was a soldier and a statesman, and had -kept his countenance in many a bitter crisis, and always shown a -singular pride in controlling his passions--so much so, as to be stately -and cold even to those he loved; yet here he wept before the very -staring servants and gave no heed. Lord Portland thought there was -something womanish and unworthy in this desperate grief; he went up to -the King and spoke with a kind of heat. - -"Will you give way thus? Where is your trust in God?" - -He was speaking not to the King of England, but to William of Nassau, at -whose side he had faced so many years of danger, his companion in arms, -his truest friend. - -"She will go to everlasting peace," he said, with energy. "You, who have -faced so much, can face the loss of her--for her sake, for her eternal -good." - -If the King heard these words they did not touch him; he raised his head -a little, and broke into incoherent lamentation in a misery of tears. - -Portland spoke to Dr. Radcliffe. - -"How long," he asked, "will it be?" - -"She may," answered the doctor, in a lowered voice, "live another day, -my lord, no more; the smallpox are now so sunk there is no hope of -raising them." - -"Should she not be warned of her danger?" - -"That is as the King wishes." - -"The King!" echoed Portland, in a tone of despair. He turned again to -his master. "Sire," he said gently, "will you have the Queen told?" - -William looked up; the tears were streaming down his face for any one to -see; he continually shuddered violently, and spoke so hoarsely Portland -could with difficulty catch the words. - -"I'll not believe it yet--I cannot--these doctors--must save her----" - -"Dr. Tenison," answered Portland, "is with her now--it were best that he -should tell her of her condition----" - -The King broke out into ejaculations of anguish. - -"There was none like her in all the world--none! No one could know her -great goodness. O God, my God, this is more than I can bear!" - -Portland turned his eyes away, broken himself. - -"I am amazed," whispered Dr. Burnet; "for surely I never thought him -capable of such emotion." - -Dr. Radcliffe touched Portland on the arm. - -"Look to His Majesty," he said. "I think this will prove beyond his -endurance--I will to the Queen." - -He took his leave softly. The King lifted his head and looked after -him. - -"He said there was no hope!" he cried. "No hope!" - -"God is your hope," answered Portland strongly. - -"Talk not of God, for this is death and damnation to me--if she leaves -me nothing matters on earth or in heaven--what have I done--what have I -done that the Devil is let loose on me?" He cast his eyes round wildly, -and staggered to his feet. "She was all I had--all--I should have died -first--I might have died happy--I have not lived so wickedly I should be -punished thus--but they mistake, these doctors--she cannot die--no, it -is not possible." - -They were all silent. The scene was painful almost past bearing. The -King's agonies went beyond all bounds. None of them, though they were -all men who had known him most of his life, had believed that his temper -was capable of such passion. Dr. Burnet's fluent self-assurance was -checked--he stood dumb and staring; the Dutch nobles gazed in horror and -dismay at this spectacle of a proud man's utter overthrow. Portland -remained beside him, and the King supported himself by holding heavily -on to his arm. - -"Doctors mistake, do they not?" he cried, between the long shudders that -shook him. "How often have they not said--I should die--but I lived." - -"Alas," answered Portland unsteadily, "I would not have you deceive -yourself--Radcliffe was very certain. But you will command -yourself----" - -"I--I have no strength," gasped the King; "my soul is broken within me. -O God!" he sobbed, "save her or let me go!" - -He turned about and threw out his hand like a blind man feeling his way, -then fell back into Portland's arms. - -"Fainted," said my lord laconically. With the help of M. Zulestein he -laid him on the stiff couch between the windows. One of the servants -hurried for a doctor, and in the moment's confusion my Lord Leeds -entered unnoticed. - -Portland, as he moved from the King's couch, was the first to see him. - -"Ah, my lord," he said sorrowfully, "what is to become of us all?" - -"The King," murmured Portland, much moved, "is incapable of anything--do -you take the direction of affairs." - -"Nay, you, my lord," answered Leeds. "You are His Majesty's nearer -friend." - -"And your Grace is English--it will be more politic should you take this -office--what of the Queen?" - -"I have just come from her antechamber--even the pages and serving-maids -are in tears--this is a heavy business." He himself seemed like a man -utterly overcome. "She is certainly sinking--she is in private -discourse now with the Archbishop." - -"Doth she know?" - -Leeds shook his head. - -"Dr. Tenison waiteth the King's commands to tell her--but I think she -hath an inner knowledge." - -M. Auverqueverque came from the group by the window and whispered -Portland that the King was conscious. - -At this Leeds, ever warm-hearted and impulsive, went on his knees beside -the couch and pressed the King's cold hand affectionately to his lips. - -William sat up with his head drooping; his back was to the light, and -his thick curls almost concealed his face; he held his handkerchief to -his lips and shivered continually. - -"The Queen," said Leeds, very low, "hath asked for Your Majesty." - -The King murmured something incoherent. - -"And the Archbishop," continued Leeds, with a grave gentleness, -"thinketh she should be told of her danger." - -"I would not have her deceived--in so important a matter," whispered the -King--"tell him so." He leant forward and took Leeds by the shoulders. -"Is it not an awful thing that she should die--she--to die--you ever -loved her--God bless you for that, my lord--she had a sad life"--his -voice became very indistinct--"she will not be sorry--but as for me----" - -His hands loosened on the Duke's shoulders, and with a little moan he -fell into another fainting fit, so long and deathlike that they feared -for his reason or his life; it seemed, indeed, as if he would scarcely -survive her whose danger caused his despair. - - - - - CHAPTER XI - - THE BITTER PARTING - - -The Queen's bed stood out into the room, facing the long windows which -looked on to the winter twilight; it was hung with four curtains of gold -and blue damask sewn with many-coloured wreaths of flowers that Mary and -her maids had worked when seated under the alley of wych-elm at Hampton -Court. - -The coverlet was of crimson satin embroidered with great roses of -England and fringed with bullion. The Queen lay so still that the heavy -folds were scarcely disturbed about her limbs. The curtains round the -head of the bed had been drawn forward, and the pillows and the face of -the Queen were in shadow. - -She wore a lace cap with long lappets fastened beneath her chin and a -little jacket of blue silk over her muslin nightgown. She was not -disfigured, it being the most deadly symptom of her disease that there -was no sign of it beyond the deep purple marks that had told Dr. -Radcliffe--black smallpox--from the first, and the constant internal -bleeding of her throat that had so exhausted her; that had stopped now, -and she lay quite free from pain quiet for several hours; not sleeping; -sleep, she said, gave her no ease. - -To the right of the bed the King knelt with his face hidden in the -quilt. There were several prelates and doctors in the room, and by the -head of the bed Lady Temple, Madame Nienhuys, Basilea de Marsac, and -Lady Portland, the Earl's second wife and Lady Temple's daughter. - -At a whispered word from Dr. Radcliffe, Tenison, the new Archbishop of -Canterbury, successor to the saintly Tillotson, so beloved by the King -and Queen, approached the bed. - -As his footfall broke the tense silence Mary lifted her languid eyes; he -came round to her left, and stood, in a sorrowful attitude, looking down -on her. - -"Be seated, my lord," she faltered. - -But out of respect to her and the presence of the King he remained -standing. - -Mary made a feeble motion with her right hand, which lay outside the -coverlet, and sweetly stammered her repeated commands that he should -sit. - -Dr. Tenison obeyed, and with a heavy heart. Her gentle patience made -his duty the harder. Dr. Radcliffe had just told him that since she now -seemed tranquil and in full consciousness he might tell her of her -approaching end. - -The Bishop, a good heavy man, set about his task with pain and -tenderness. - -"Your Majesty will forgive me plain speaking, but I am entrusted by the -King----" - -She lay with her face towards him, and her brown eyes narrowed. He -hesitated, fearing to greatly agitate her, and sought for a form of -words in which to cast his speech. - -"I am greatly grieved to see that Your Majesty is no better," he said. -"Your consolation will come from heaven, not earth." - -She instantly perceived his drift. - -"You are come to tell me that I am dying?" she asked faintly. - -He was startled that she had so instantly understood, and could not, for -the moment, speak. - -"I thank my God," continued the Queen, "that I have had this in my -thoughts from the first. And there is nothing to be done. Search for a -little escritoire in my cabinet and give it to the King. That is the -end of earthly matters." - -She closed her eyes and gave a little sigh. - -"Will it please Your Majesty receive the Sacrament?" asked the -Archbishop. - -"Yes," she said at once. "Yes." - -He left her, and she turned her head languidly and gazed before her at -the window. - -Lady Temple came forward lovingly, and looked down at her with sorrowful -eyes. - -"Before you light the candles," whispered Mary, "will you draw the -curtains a little that I may see the sky?" - -Lady Portland crossed the floor delicately and pulled back the heavy -gold thread and scarlet damask from the December twilight. - -A pale glow of colourless light fell across the glittering bed, the wan -face of the Queen, and the motionless kneeling figure of her husband. - -She could see loose grey clouds, an indistinct trail of yellow fire low -behind the leafless trees which tossed slowly in a feeble wind. - -She gave another little sigh and again closed her eyes. Lady Portland, -weeping, drew the curtains. Basilea de Marsac and Madame de Nienhuys -lit the candles on the mantelshelf, on the table between the windows, -and the crystal lamp ornamented with the rose, the shamrock, and thistle -in silver that hung from the centre of the ceiling. - -The Queen lay still all this while; she did not speak till Dr. Tenison -approached her bed again, and all the prelates in the chamber went on -their knees. - -"I doubt if I can swallow the bread," she murmured anxiously. - -The bishops in the room took the Sacrament with her; they were all heavy -with grief, and the Primate faltered in his ministrations, but she was -utterly calm; she followed the holy office clearly with no hesitation. -Despite her fears, she swallowed the bread without difficulty, and -thanked Dr. Tenison sweetly when he had done, and lay for awhile, -praying it seemed. She was so resigned that it seemed she rather -desired to die than live. - -Presently she whispered, "I would speak to the King." - -They all withdrew from the bed to the far end of the room and the -antechamber. Mary put out a trembling hand and touched the bent dark -head that rested on her quilt. - -"Ah, love!" she said. - -He raised his face, moving for the first time since she had fallen -asleep, two hours ago. - -"They have told me," whispered Mary, "that I must say farewell--I always -knew--forgive me that I had not the courage to tell you." She smiled. -"I am so tired, and I have so much to say." - -With her right hand she drew a small gold key from the bosom of her gown -and gave it him. - -"The little escritoire," she explained. "I asked him to give it -you--only a few trifles--but you will understand." - -He took it with a shudder, her left hand he held between his tightly; he -did not speak; his face was as white, as hallowed, as shadowed by death, -it seemed, as hers. - -"I have not done much," she said; "but I have had such a little time, -and it was difficult--indeed difficult. God will know I did my poor -best. And I never failed in love, and I tried to do His will, but I -have done nothing, and I meant to do so much----" - -The King forced his voice. - -"You have been a creature we were none of us fit to touch," he muttered. -"You--you--oh, Marie!" - -He hid his face upon her hand, and she felt his hot tears on her -fingers. - -"Do not grieve," she whispered. "There is still so much for you to -do----" - -"No more," he answered passionately; "that is over now--I shall never do -anything again--never----" - -Mary half raised herself on the pillows; a feverish colour came into her -cheeks. - -"You are rebelling against God," she said, between agitated breaths. -"You must go on--your work is not finished; but the prospects are so -splendid----" - -"What is that to me?" he answered, in bitter despair. "I am a poor weak -creature--I can do nothing--it was always you, your hope, your faith--I -am no better than a thing of nought; in taking you God mocks me----" - -"No--no," cried Mary, with a desperate strength. "You are going on--you -will conquer--do not make it hard for me to die----" - -She sank on to her pillows, coughing a little. - -"I have prayed God not to let you despair--I have asked Him to comfort -you----" - -"There is no more comfort for me," he answered. "I want you--nothing -but you on earth or in heaven----" - -Mary turned her face towards him; the dark auburn hair, beneath the fine -veiling of lace, hung over the edge of the tumbled pillow and touched -his hand. - -"Oh, my husband," she said faintly; "I have loved you with a passion -that cannot end with death. You cannot--ever be alone again--I shall be -there----" - -Her voice sank and died; she made an effort to lean towards him. He -caught her to his bosom and kissed her cold forehead with lips as cold. - -"Go on," she stammered, "do not give up--the goal is nearly won----" - -She became slack in his arms; he laid her back on the pillow, and rose. - -She was smiling up at him, but there was an awful change in her face. - -He put his hand before his eyes, and fell down beside her bed, -motionless, along the shining floor. - -Mary clasped her hands on her bosom, and her head drooped to one side; -she continually coughed, and her lids closed heavily. - -Lady Temple had run forward as the King fell; Portland and Leeds raised -and carried him, easily enough, into the antechamber. - -Dr. Radcliffe gave the Queen a cordial; she thanked him, and seemed a -little revived. - -"Let me sit up," she whispered. Her ladies raised her against the -piled-up cushions. "The King"--she added--"the King?--my eyes are -weak--I thought--he left me----" - -"Dear Lady," answered Dorothy Temple, commanding her own tears, "he is -in the next chamber----" - -She knew while she spoke that he had fallen into a succession of fits so -terrible that not one doctor there thought he could live. - -"Perhaps," gasped Mary, "it were better if we--were spared--a final -farewell--I could not well bear it----" - -She leant against Lady Temple's shoulder, and her lips moved in prayer. -Her face was very troubled, and she continually sighed. - -"Madam, are you at peace?" asked Lady Temple. - -"I am not sorry to go to God," she answered; "but I am weak about the -King--I would I might have been spared a little longer with him." - -Presently she fell asleep, peacefully it seemed, and still with prayers -on her lips. - -Lady Temple crept from the bed where Lady Portland pulled the curtains -to shield the Queen from the light, and asked Dr. Radcliffe how long it -might be now? - -He shook his head sadly. - -"A few hours, my lady." - -Dorothy Temple burst out into subdued grief. - -"We have the greatest loss in this lady! I have known her since she was -a child, and she had never a fault--this is a bitter thing for all of -us, and for England." - -The doctor answered grimly-- - -"A more bitter thing even than you imagine, my lady. I do not think the -King will live." - -She looked at him in utter terror, and at that moment Portland came out -of the antechamber. - -"Will you go to His Majesty, doctor?" he said, in a shaking voice. -"Millington doth not know what to do." - -Radcliffe left them, and Lady Temple desperately seized hold of -Portland's arm. - -"Oh, William," she whispered; "how is the King?" - -"Sorely stricken," he answered. "Is this to be the end?--that he should -die for a woman!" - -Lady Portland came softly from the bed to her mother and her husband. - -"Doth it not seem cruel that the Queen should die?" she murmured. "They -say there is no hope----" - -"The Queen!" echoed Portland. "I think of the King----" - -"Can you not," urged his wife anxiously, "rouse him and bring him back -to her? When she wakes she will surely ask for him----" - -Portland, with a little sigh of despair and weariness, went into the -antechamber. - -It was well lit and full of people. The King was seated on his -camp-bed--a dishevelled, pitiful figure--lamenting to himself with a -violence and boundless passion that had the force and incoherence of -insanity. - -The only one of the company who had the courage to approach him was a -new-comer, my Lord Sunderland; pale, quiet, elegantly dressed, he stood -between the King and the wall, and gazed down on his master with an -extraordinary expression of resolution and consideration. - -Portland went up to him, not without a sense of jealousy for the King's -dignity, that was so shattered before these foreigners and a man like -Sunderland. - -"Sire," he said firmly. "Sire!" - -William did not even look up; he was twisting his hands together and -staring at the floor, breaking out into the bitter protests of a mind -deranged. - -Sunderland looked sharply at Portland. - -"What do you want of him, my lord?" he asked, - -"I would recall him to himself that he may take farewell of the Queen," -answered Portland sternly. "But he, it seemeth, is no longer William of -Nassau." - -Sunderland made no answer to this; he laid his hand lightly on the -King's shoulder. - -"Your Highness!" he said. - -The ancient title struck some chord of memory. The King raised his -head; Sunderland was certainly startled at his face. - -"Who spoke to me?" asked William thickly. - -"The Prince of Orange," answered the Earl, "cannot fail before -anything--the King of England must not----" - -"Fail?" muttered the King. "Fail? Have I failed? They put too much -upon me. Did they tell you of the Queen? My enemies may be satisfied -now, for I shall never lift my head again----" - -"The Queen," said Sunderland, "will not depart in peace unless she -leaveth you calm. Sire, for her sake will you not recall your ancient -courage?" - -The King shook his head in a faint, exhausted fashion. - -"You would not have thought that she would die so young," he murmured, -"would you--she was gay, too--there was to have been a ball -to-night--and she cannot live till morning----" - -Lady Temple came from the Queen's room and whispered something to Lord -Portland, who instantly addressed the King. - -"Sire, the Queen is awake." - -William rose; his cravat and waistcoat were undone over his shirt, his -eyes bloodshot and dim, his hair dishevelled and damp on his forehead; -he seemed to be making a tremendous effort for control; he noticed his -disordered clothes. - -"I would not frighten her"--it was Sunderland and not Portland to whom -he spoke. The Dutchman drew back a pace. It was ironical that at such a -moment the King should turn to such a man; but William had first roused -at Sunderland's address, and seemed to look to him for guidance as he -had looked, almost unconsciously, to him for support fifteen years ago, -in the bitter days before his marriage. - -The proud, stern, lonely, and scorned young Prince had then opened his -heart to the dishonest, worldly, and cynical minister, and the bond of -sympathy that must have been between them then showed now, when the -King, fainting with mental agony, clung blindly to Sunderland's unmoved, -gentle strength. - -Portland marked it then and marked it now; he felt his own love useless -in the face of my lord's charm. William had not even noticed his -presence. He left him in the arms of Sunderland and returned to the -Queen's chamber. - -Dr. Tenison had been reading the Scriptures to her, and stood now by her -bed with the Bible in his hand. - -Lady Temple and her daughter were behind him. The younger woman was -crying sadly. - -Portland went up to the other side of the Queen's bed. - -Mary raised her deep brown eyes and looked at him earnestly. - -"My lord," she whispered--he bent over her and she caught his stiff cuff -with feverish fingers--"do not let the King despair ... do not let him -give up ... I shall have indeed lived in vain if he gives up ... so near -too..." She paused to gather strength, and he was too moved to answer. -"At first I was so afraid of you," she added wistfully, "so fearful of -intruding on you and him--you were his friend before ever I came, and -will be when I am gone--but of late you have tolerated me--only a woman, -but I have not hindered his destiny--I let nothing stand in the way of -his service--indeed, if I have ever vexed you, forgive me----" - -"Madam," responded Portland tenderly, "you have been the great comfort -of all of us, and we shall be utterly undone without you." - -She shook her head on the tumbled pillow. - -"I was only a foreigner--a stranger; you were ever extraordinarily kind -to me--do not let the King stop--for this." - -She fell on to silence, being greatly weakened by this effort of speech, -and Portland withdrew to the end of the bed to allow Dr. Radcliffe to -approach. - -The Queen's words had roused curious memories in the mind of William -Bentinck. It did not seem so many years ago since the fair, -thoughtless, timid English girl had come, as she said, a foreigner--a -stranger--to The Hague, unwanted, mistrusted, despised for her youth and -her kinsman's treachery, regarded by her husband as an interruption--a -vexation--the mere burden of a marriage of convenience that had been a -political failure; and now she had grown to be the support of all his -designs, and he was brought to a madness of despair because she lay -dying, and those same aims and endeavours which her coming had intruded -upon, to his anger, were now nothing to him if she should no longer be -there to share them. - -It was now past midnight. The Queen, having swallowed Dr. Radcliffe's -cordial, spoke again, and took farewell of her ladies. - -"This was to have been our dance to-night," she murmured. "I am sorry to -have spoilt your pleasure----" - -"There will never be any more pleasure for me," answered Dorothy Temple, -who loved her exceedingly, "until I meet Your Majesty in Heaven----" - -Mary was silent, lying very still. There was a little stir in the -chamber as the King entered, followed by Lord Sunderland, who kept his -eyes on him keenly. - -The King went straight to his wife's side, and lifted the glittering -curtain up. - -The silence was heavy as these two looked at each other. - -"Tell me," he said, "what to do--what you would have me do----" - -The Queen tried to answer; but speech was beyond her power; and when she -found that she could no more speak to him, for the might of death on her -tongue, two tears rolled down her hollow cheeks, and, by the size of -them, it was seen that she was dying indeed, for they were large as the -grey pearls in her ears. - -"Give me one word," said the King, and he bent low over her. She made a -second attempt, but in vain. A long shudder shook her, blood came to -her lips, and the tears on her face rolled off on to the pillow. - -"She cannot speak!" exclaimed the King; he fell along the bed and laid -his face against her hand. Sunderland touched him. He gave a sighing -sob like a woman, and fainted. - -My Lord Leeds helped lift and carry him to the back of the chamber; the -others remained about the Queen, who was sinking so rapidly that they -feared she would go before the King recovered his senses. - -She put up her hands in the attitude of praying, then dropped them and -turned her head about on the pillow as if she looked for the King; not -seeing him, she moaned and fell into a little swoon, breathing heavily. - -The watchers held painful vigil thus for near an hour, when she opened -her eyes suddenly and began to speak, in a distinct though low voice; -but the words she used showed that her thoughts began to break. - -"We have such a short time," she said, "what can any of us do?--I hope -this will show you cannot expose yourself with impunity--I shall give -God thanks as long as I live for having preserved you--think of me a -little and be more careful--Lord Nottingham saw my tears, I could not -restrain--my father, my father, there is such a great light here, like -the sun at Twickenham, no, The Hague--a letter at last--he loves, after -all----" - -She moved and half sat up; the lace had fallen from her head, and her -hair hung in a dark mass over her shoulders; an extraordinary look of -ecstasy overspread her wan face. - -"Give me the child," she whispered, and held out her arms; then she -coughed a little and dropped back. - -A slight convulsion shook her; her breath clove her lips apart, and her -lids fluttered over her eyes. - -The clergymen were on their knees reading the prayer for the dying. As -they finished, Dr. Radcliffe put out the candle, on the table by the -bed, that shone over the Queen's face. - -"It is over," he said; "Her Majesty is dead." - -The Palace clock struck the four quarters, and then the hour of one. - -The King opened his eyes and looked about him on the hushed kneeling -figures. Portland endeavoured to restrain him, but he rose from the -couch and moved slowly and languidly towards the bed. - -No one dared speak or move. - -When he saw the still, disordered coverlet, the shadowed face, the white -hand on which the wedding-ring glowed ghastly bright, he put his hand to -his breast, and stood for a full minute so, gazing at her; then his -senses reeled back to oblivion and he fainted again, falling at the feet -of the Archbishop, as that clergyman rose from his knees. - -As he lay along the floor they marked how slight and frail he was, and, -when they lifted him, how light his weight, and how reluctantly and -slowly the heart that had beaten so high stirred in his bosom. - - - - - PART III - - THE KING - - - "Man is God's masterpiece." - FRANCIS QUARLES. - - - - CHAPTER I - - VITA SINE AMOR MORS EST - - -Henry Sidney, Lord Romney, and the Earl of Portland were walking up and -down the cloisters of Westminster Abbey. It was the end of April--a -bitter spring following a severe winter; constant clouds blotted out the -sun, and sudden falls of snow had left the square of grass in the centre -of the cloisters wet and white. - -The Earl, muffled to the chin in a red mantle, and carrying a great muff -of brown fur, was talking earnestly to Lord Romney, who, though a -feather-head and useless in politics, was more loved by the King than -any Englishman, and of unimpeachable loyalty to the throne. - -"This," said Portland, with energy, "is death or madness--nay, worse -than either, for he is but a figure of himself that deceiveth us into -thinking we have a King." - -"God knoweth," returned Romney, who looked old and worn, sad and -dejected, "never have we so needed his wisdom and his courage. Whom can -we trust since the death of Her Majesty? Not even my Lord Nottingham." - -"Sunderland," said the Earl, "is creeping back to favour--the knave of -two reigns, who would get a third King in his clutches--and the Lord -Keeper is very active in the House. Now I have done what I can to -transact necessary business since the Queen's death--but I cannot do -much, for the malice against foreigners is incredible----" - -"No one but the King can do anything!" broke out Romney. - -"I at least can do no more," admitted Portland. "And certainly my heart -misgiveth me that this is going to be the end--in miserable failure." - -"Why--not failure," protested the Englishman. - -Portland paused by the clustered pillars which divided the open windows; -a few ghastly flakes of snow were falling from a disturbed sky against -the worn, crumbling, and grey masonry. - -"Miserable failure," repeated the Earl; his fine fair face was pale and -stern in the colourless shadows of the heavy arches. "Parliament needeth -a leader, the Republic needeth her magistrate, the allies their -commander--there is very much to do--with every day, more--and the man -who should do it is as useless as a sick girl." - -"I think," said Romney, with some gentleness, "that his heart is -broken." - -"A man," flashed Portland, "hath no right to a broken heart. Good God, -could we not all discover broken hearts if we took time to probe them? -I know the Queen's worth, what she was to him, and all of us--but is she -served by this weakness of grief? He would best commemorate her by -making no pause in his task." - -"That is a hard doctrine," answered the Englishman half sadly. - -"It is a hard fate to be a great man, my lord--the destinies of nations -are not made easily nor cheaply. When the King began his task he was -prepared for the price--he should not now shirk the paying of it----" - -"It is higher than he thought would be exacted, my lord." - -Portland answered sternly-- - -"You surely do not understand. What was she, after all, but an -incident? He had been ten years at his work before she came." - -The snow fell suddenly, and, caught and whirled by a powerful wind, -filled the air with a thick whiteness like spreading smoke; it blew -against the two gentlemen, and in a second covered their mantles with -glittering crystals. - -Romney stepped back and shook it from him. - -"Shall we not go into the church," he said, with a shiver, "and persuade -the King return?" - -"It doth not matter if he be at her grave or in his cabinet," answered -Portland gloomily, "since his temper is the same wherever he be." - -Romney turned towards the low door that led into the Abbey. - -"Did you mark," he said irrelevantly, "that the robin was still on her -gravestone?" - -"Yes," replied Portland; "it hath been singing there since she was -buried." - -They entered the large, mysterious church. The snowstorm had so -obscured the light from the tall, high windows that the columns, roof, -and tombs were alike enveloped in a deep shade; it was very cold and the -air hung misty and heavy. - -Above the altar, to their right, swung a red burning lamp that gave no -light, but showed as a sudden gleam of crimson. - -On the altar itself burnt four tall candles that gleamed on the polished -gold sacred vessels and faintly showed the sweep of marble and the -violet-hued carpet beyond the brass rails which divided the altar from -the steps. - -There was only one person visible in this large, cold, dark church, and -that was a man in the front pew, entirely in black, who neither sat nor -knelt, but drooped languidly against the wooden rest in front of him, -with his face hidden in his right hand. - -Portland and Romney took off their hats and approached the altar; they -had nearly reached it before they noticed the King, whom they had left -at his wife's grave. - -Their footsteps were very noticeable in the sombre stillness. The King -looked up and rose, holding heavily to the arm of the pew. - -Romney hesitated, but Portland stepped up to William. - -"We had best return, sire." - -The King was silent, his eyes fixed on the altar and the fluttering gold -light that dwelt there--a radiance in the gloom. - -Portland touched his arm and he moved then, with no sign of animation, -towards the Abbey door; his two friends followed shivering in the great -spaces of the church that were more bitterly cold than the outer air. - -The King's eyes turned to the shadowed dark aisles which led to the -chapel of the seventh Henry and the spot where the Queen, a few months -ago young, and beautiful, and gay, now lay among her royal kinsmen, dust -with dust. - -The King opened the heavy door and stepped out into the bitter light of -the snowstorm which hid sky and houses, whitened the coach waiting and -the liveries of the impatient footmen who walked about in the endeavour -to keep warm. The King himself was in an instant covered from head to -foot; he gave a lifeless shudder as one so sick with life that sun and -snow were alike to him. - -He entered the coach and the two lords followed him; there was no word -spoken; his friends had lost heart in the fruitless endeavour of -comfort; he had scarcely spoken since the Queen's death, scarcely raised -his eyes; for six weeks he had remained in his chamber, and now he came -abroad it was to no purpose, for he took no interest in anything in -life. - -He gave himself much to religious observances, and was often closeted -with the Archbishop; he uttered no word of complaint, never even had -mentioned his wife's name, which was the more remarkable after the first -frantic passion of his grief; he would attend to no business and see no -one; he replied to the addresses of the Houses only by a few incoherent -words; his answers as they appeared in the _Gazette_ were written by -Portland. - -He fainted often, and his spirits sunk so low that the doctors feared he -would die of mere apathy, for all their devices were useless to rouse -him to any desire to live. - -Portland could do nothing. M. Heinsius, Grand Pensionary of Holland, -wrote in vain from The Hague; that long, intimate, and important -correspondence was broken by the King for the first time since his -accession; the allies clamoured in vain for him whose guidance alone -kept the coalition together; factions raged in parliament with no -authority to check them; the Jacobites raised their heads again, and, -the moment the breath was out of the Queen, began their plots for a -French invasion and the assassination of the one frail life that stood -for the forces of Protestantism; this was generally known, though not -proved, but the King cared for none of it. - -The home government, since the retirement of Leeds after the East India -scandal, was in many hands, mostly incompetent; foreign affairs fared -worse, for these the King had always kept almost entirely in his own -control, and had scarcely even partially trusted any of his English -ministers on these matters, that, as he was well aware, neither their -knowledge nor their characters fitted them to deal with. Portland held -many of the clues to the King's immense and intricate international -policy, and he had done what he could with matters that could not wait, -but he could not do everything, nor do anything for long, and what he -could not do was left undone. - -As the Royal coach swung into Whitehall courtyard the sudden snowstorm -had ceased and a pale, cold ray of sun pierced the disturbed clouds. - -The King had lately taken a kind of horror to his villa at Kensington, -and resided at Whitehall, though he had always detested this palace, and -the foul air of London was perilous to his health. - -There was, however, no pretence even of a Court. The ladies, with their -music, their sewing, their cards and tea drinking, had vanished; the -Princess Anne, nominally reconciled to the King, lived at St. James's, -and no woman came to Court now; the great galleries, chambers, and -corridors were empty save for a few Dutch sentries and ushers and an -occasional great lord or foreign envoy waiting to ask my Lord Portland -when His Majesty would be fit to do business. - -Without a word or a look to any the King passed through the antechamber -to his private apartments. Portland stopped to speak to Lord -Sunderland, who was talking to the Lord Keeper, Sir John Somers, the -Whig lawyer, as industrious, as honest, and as charming as any man in -England, and an extraordinary contrast to Sunderland in character. The -two were, however, for a moment in league, and had together brought -about that reconciliation of the King and the Princess Anne that set the -throne on a firmer basis, though neither had as yet dared to bring -forward my Lord Marlborough. - -Romney, who disliked the everyday virtues of the middle-class Lord -Keeper, would have preferred to follow the King, but William gave him no -invitation, but entered his apartments and closed the door, so he had to -join the little group of three. - -Their talk was for a while of general matters--of the heats in -parliament and the prospects of the campaign of the allies under Waldeck -and Vaudemont; each was silent about the matter uppermost in his -mind--the recovery of the King. Portland, the lifelong friend, upright, -noble, stern; Romney, gay, impulsive, shallow, but loyal and honest; -Somers, worthy, tireless, a Whig, and of the people; Sunderland, -aristocrat and twice told a traitor, shameless, secretive, and -fascinating, by far the finest statesman of the four--all these had one -object in common, to rouse the man on whom depended the whole machinery -of the English government and the whole fate of the huge coalition -against France, which had taken twenty years to form. - -Sunderland, heartily disliked by the other three, yet master of all of -them, suddenly, with delicate precision, came to the heart of the -matter. - -"Unless all Europe is to slip back into the hands of France," he said, -"the King _must_ take up his duties." - -"This temper of his is making him most unpopular," remarked Somers, who, -honestly grateful to his master, had always endeavoured to turn people -and parliament to an affection for the King. "Though the Queen was -greatly beloved they resent this long mourning." - -"She held the King and country together," answered Sunderland. "Her -English birth, her tactful, pretty ways did His Majesty more service -here than a deal of statecraft--the Jacks know that; the country is -swarming with them, and unless it is all to end in disaster--the King -_must_ act his old part." - -Portland flushed. - -"You say so, my lord, but who is to rouse a man utterly prostrate? -Nothing availeth to draw him from his sloth." - -"He is neither dead nor mad," said Sunderland calmly. "And grief is a -thing that may be mastered. He should go to Flanders in May and take -command of the allies." - -"It is impossible!" broke out Sidney. "Did you mark him but now? He -hardly lifts his eyes from the floor, and I have not heard him speak one -word these ten days." - -Sunderland answered quietly-- - -"A man who hath done what he hath cannot utterly sink into apathy--there -is a spirit in him which must respond, if it be but rightly called -upon." - -"Will _you_ assay to rouse His Majesty?" asked Portland haughtily. - -Sunderland's long eyes narrowed. - -"I am bold to try where your lordship hath failed," he said, with a -deference that was like insolence; "but it is a question of great -matters, and I will make the trial." - -"You will make it in vain, my lord," answered Romney. "The King is -beyond even your arts." - -Sunderland delicately lifted his shoulders. - -"We can but see." He looked rather cynically round the other three men. -"If the King is out of the reach of reason it is as well we should know -it, my lords." - -Portland did not reply. He bitterly resented that this man, whom he -scorned and despised, should gain this intimacy with the King's -weakness; but he led the way to William's apartments. He had practically -control of affairs since the King's collapse, and no one questioned his -coming or going. - -They found William in his cabinet that overlooked the privy gardens, at -the bottom of which the river rolled black and dismal in contrast to the -glitter of the snow on the paths and flowerbeds. - -The King sat by the window, gazing out on this prospect, his head sunk -on his breast and his left arm along the sill of the window. The -crimson cut crystal bracelet round his wrist was the only light or -colour on his person, for he wore no sword, and his heavy black clothes -were unbraided and plain; the considerable change in his appearance was -largely heightened by this complete mourning, for he had seldom before -worn black, having, indeed, a curious distaste to it. He had been born -in a room hung with funeral trappings and lit only with candles, and for -the first months of his life never left this black chamber, which had -caused, perhaps, a certain revulsion in him to the sables of mourning, -which he had worn only once before, when, a pale child of ten, he had -been dressed in black for his young mother, that other Mary Stewart -whose coffin lay in Westminster within a few feet of that of his wife. - -He did not seem to notice that any had entered upon his privacy. -Portland glanced back at Romney and the Lord Keeper with a look that -seemed to convey that he felt hopeless of my Lord Sunderland doing what -he had boasted; but that lord went forward with his usual quiet -carriage. - -A large fire filled the room with cheerful light that glowed on the -polished Dutch pottery and rich Dutch pictures on the mantelshelf and -walls. On a marquetry bureau, with glittering brass fuchsia-shaped -handles, was a pile of unopened letters, and amid them a blue-glazed -earthenware dragon that used to stand in the Queen's withdrawing-room at -Hampton Court. - -Sunderland paused, looking at the King. The three other men remained -inside the door, watching with painful attention. - -"Sire," said the Earl, "there is news from France. M. de Luxembourg, -who was your greatest enemy, is dead." - -The King did not move. - -"It is a great loss to King Louis," added Sunderland. "They say M. de -Villeroy is to have the command." - -William slowly turned his head and looked at the speaker, but without -interest or animation, almost, it seemed, without recognition. - -Sunderland came nearer. A book was lying on the window-seat, he glanced -at it--it was Dr. Tenison's sermon on the text, "I have sworn and am -steadfastly purposed to keep thy righteous judgments," which had been -preached after the Queen's death, and printed by the King's command. - -Sunderland spoke again. - -"The Whigs have ousted my Lord Leeds and his friend Trevor--and continue -to press heavily upon him." - -Again it was doubtful if the King heard; he fixed his large mournful -eyes steadily upon the Earl, and made no sign nor answer. - -Sunderland, finding neither of these matters touched the King, drew from -the bosom of his grey satin waistcoat a roll of papers. - -"Sir Christopher Wren showed me these this morning," he said, "and -doubted if he dared bring them to Your Majesty. They are those plans for -the turning of Greenwich Palace into a hospital that Her Majesty had -ever at heart." - -The three men watching caught their breath at the delicate bluntness of -my lord. This time there could be no doubt that the King had heard; he -made some incoherent answer and held out his hand for the plans, which -he unrolled and gazed at. - -"It should be a noble monument," said the Earl softly, "to Her Majesty -and those who fell at La Hogue fight. Sir Christopher would have an -inscription along the river frontage saying she built it, and a statue -of her--looking along the Thames to London." - -The King answered in a low voice-- - -"Let it be put in hand at once." - -"Will Your Majesty see Sir Christopher?" - -William lifted his eyes from the drawings. - -"No--let him get to work," he murmured; then, after a second, "Do you -not think it will be a worthy monument?" - -"So fine that I can but think of one more worthy," answered Sunderland. - -A languid colour touched the King's hollow cheek. - -"What is that?" - -"The completion of Your Majesty's life-work." - -There was silence. The King paled again and looked out of the window. - -"I cannot talk of business," he said hoarsely, after a while. - -"I speak of the Queen--her wishes," answered Sunderland. "She greatly -desired the building of Greenwich Hospital, but she still more desired -the preservation of this realm--and of the Republic." - -At this last word the King gave a little shiver. - -"The Republic," repeated Sunderland, "needeth Your Majesty." - -William looked round again--his face was troubled. - -"You speak to a dead man," he said, in a hurried whisper. "I have -finished." - -"If that be so," replied the Earl, "we and the United Provinces are -lost, and King Louis will triumph after all, yea, after all the toil, -and loss, and patience, and endeavour, France will triumph over Europe. -Your Majesty had better not have flung the gauntlet in '72--better to -have bowed to France then than submit now." - -The King seemed disturbed; he laid the plans of Greenwich down and moved -his hands restlessly. - -"I am not fit for--anything," he muttered. "I am not capable of -military command--there are others--I have been at this work twenty -years--let some other take it up----" - -"There is no other," said Sunderland. "This is Your Majesty's task, and -no one else can undertake it." - -The King looked round in a desperate fashion; he saw the three men at -the other end of the room. - -"Why do you come bating me?" he asked. "I tell you there is nothing -more in me"--he laid his hand on his heart--"all is dead--here." - -A sudden violent cough shook him; he gasped with pain. - -"In a few months I shall be with her," he added, and his voice was so -weak and shaken that Sunderland could scarcely catch the words. - -"Doth not Your Majesty believe in predestination?" - -William was silent. - -"Doth not Your Majesty believe that God hath some further use for you?" - -The King answered simply and with infinite sadness-- - -"I think He hath had from me all the work I am capable of." - -"No," said Sunderland. "Your greatest tasks, your greatest victories -lie before you. William of Nassau will not die while the battle rageth. -God, who put you in the vanguard of the world, will not let you fall out -with the deserters." - -The King drew a sharp breath; he seemed considerably moved and agitated; -his dark eyes turned to Sunderland. - -"What is it to you whether I fail or no?" he asked wildly. - -The Earl smiled. - -"I stand for England, sire. Besides that, I always believed in you, and -you are the only man in Europe worth serving." - -William flushed. - -"You speak very boldly." - -"I spoke boldly to Your Majesty in '77. I said to you then, you are the -Prince for England--your moment will come. The little things, sir, -often clog, and hamper, and bewilder, but in the end the big things -win--as Your Majesty will win, though through wearisome ways. Sir, -kingdoms are large stakes. Sir, to be a champion of a creed is a great -responsibility, and he who taketh it up must forgo the grief of common -men, for surely his tears are demanded as well as his blood." - -William sat motionless, with his hand to his side. - -"You think I can take it all up again?" he asked, in his hoarse, -strained voice. "My God! I think it is too late." - -Sunderland turned and whispered something to Somers, who left the room; -to the King he said-- - -"I entreat Your Majesty see a young officer new come from Flanders." - - - - - CHAPTER II - - THE KING IS NEEDED - - -Sunderland remained by the silent King, on whom he kept his clear, -strong glance; Portland and the beautiful Romney went into the -antechamber, where they could speak freely. - -"What charlatan's trick is this?" said the Earl, in a low, angry voice. -"Who is this officer from Flanders? It is strange to hear my Lord -Sunderland mouth these godly sentiments--he, a man merely fighting for a -place----" - -"Yet he spoke," admitted Romney, "and we were silent. And he roused the -King. If it be mere self-interest it had the effect of sincerity." - -Portland made no answer; he knew that he could not have spoken to -William with the quiet tact and insinuating boldness that Sunderland -had, but he knew also that he had served and loved the King in a way -Sunderland could probably not even understand, and his heart swelled at -what he considered calculated tricks to goad the King into filling a -position where he might be useful to my lord; in this Portland's rigid -honesty was unfair to Sunderland, who, though he was knavish sometimes -in his means, was seldom knavish in his ends, and perhaps strove for as -high an ideal as William Bentinck, though by different ways. - -Lord Romney spoke again. - -"After all, what doth it matter--if the King could be drawn out of his -sloth?" - -Portland's fair face was still dark and sombre; he rather despised the -Englishman; he rather regretted the day when he had come to England to -take up these perilous honours among a people who detested him. Romney -glanced at him, gave a little shrug, and returned to the King's room; -his love for William was of a different quality, his code was easier; he -was thankful that the King should, under any circumstances, recover his -balance, and he, Henry Sidney, could see no great dishonour in the -public actions of my Lord Sunderland, and regarded him from no such -stern standpoint as did William Bentinck. - -He found the King had moved and now sat beside the bureau piled with the -untouched correspondence. Sunderland was still at the window looking -out at the inky line of the river between the white banks and the slow -progress of a barge with dull yellow sails that struggled with a -sluggish wind past Whitehall stairs. - -Romney went over to him. - -"You have done much, my lord," he whispered warmly; "we must all be -grateful." - -Sunderland turned his faded, powdered face from the window. - -"He will finish the campaign yet, I think," he answered. - -The Lord Keeper and Lord Portland re-entered the room, and with them was -a third gentleman, who went at once to Lord Sunderland, like one waiting -for directions; that nobleman took him gently by the arm and drew him -towards the King, who had not yet looked up. - -"Sire," he said, "Your Majesty knoweth M. van Keppel, who hath been some -years in your service." - -The King raised his eyes and saw the splendid figure of a young Dutch -officer standing before him with great humility and respect. - -"Yes, I remember you, Mynheer," he murmured, with a faint animation, and -speaking his own language. - -Sunderland stepped back and the young soldier went on one knee. - -"Are you come from Flanders?" asked William. - -"Yes, sire." - -"From my Cousin Vaudemont's force?" - -"Yes, sire." - -"What is your business with us?" asked the King faintly. - -Joost van Keppel rose. - -"My business is more than I dare broach," he said humbly. - -The King looked at him kindly. - -"I shall not be angry." He exerted himself to graciousness, and his -glance seemed to rest with a wistful kind of pleasure on the youth. - -Certainly Joost van Keppel had an appearance well calculated to win the -hearts of those who looked upon him, for a mingled sweetness and ardour -made a kind of radiance in his face, as if he gave forth the light of -hope and courage. He was tall and robust, of a bright fairness, with -dark brown eyes of an extraordinary power and gentleness, a smiling, -strong mouth, and a fine carriage of nobility in his port; his -rich-coloured brown hair hung in full curls over his gay and vivid -uniform; there was a great quantity of gold on his sword belt and in his -shoulder knots; in the firelight he glittered from head to foot with a -changing light of gold; but despite his youthful strength and the -magnificence of his appointments the prevailing impression of his person -was that of a gentle, soft, and winning sweetness that sat very -graciously on the unconscious demeanour of a noble soldier. - -"Were you not a page to us?" asked the King. - -"Yes, Your Majesty. I was with those who had the honour to come to -England with Your Majesty," answered M. van Keppel. "Your Majesty showed -me great kindness in promoting me." - -He had a gentle and charming address, an eager air of deference wholly -pleasing. - -"I had forgotten," said the King. "So you have come from Flanders?" - -He gave a little sigh. - -"Oh, sire!" cried Joost van Keppel, "I am come to tell Your Majesty that -we need you!" - -The King sat up and looked at Portland and the Englishmen. - -"Ah!" he said, in an angry, broken voice. "What device is this you put -upon me? No use, my lords, no use; this back will bear no more -burdens." - -"Absolve me," cried Portland. "I know nothing of this----" - -"A trick," continued the King--"a trick to spur me. What are you, -Mynheer, to come and tell me of my duty?" - - M. van Keppel threw himself again on his knees. - -"The King is needed," he repeated, with great passion. "I love Your -Majesty enough to dare tell you so. Sire, the Republic crieth out to -Your Majesty!" - -"Who told you to speak thus?" asked William bitterly. - -"M. Heinsius," answered the young soldier instantly. - -At that name the King changed countenance. - -"M. Heinsius," he muttered; then he fixed M. van Keppel with a keen look -and added--"Why did he choose you?" - -"Because Your Majesty used to have some kindness for me," was the reply, -given with a frank modesty; "because no man living could revere Your -Majesty more than I do." - -"I am not used to be so courted," said William sternly. "You have too -ready a tongue. M. Heinsius may find another messenger." - -He rose and would have turned away, but the young man, still on his -knees, caught the King's stiff silk coat skirts. - -"Will the Prince of Orange ever refuse to listen to the appeal of the -United Provinces?" he asked, with singular sweetness and force. - -William looked down at him, hesitated, then said faintly-- - -"Rise, Mynheer. I am not your King. As for the Republic"--he sank into -the great wand-bottomed chair again and said abruptly--"how think they -the campaign will go?" - -M. van Keppel got to his feet and stood his full splendid height. - -"M. de Vaudemont saith, sire, that if Your Majesty would come to lead us -there is no question that the allies might do more than they have ever -done." He paused a moment, then continued, "M. de Boufflers is guarding -the banks of the Sambre; a great army is collected from the Lys to the -Scheldt. M. de Villeroy, they say, is to fix his headquarters at -Tournay; but the allies are ready to take the field--operations could -begin next month. M. de Vaudemont and M. Heinsius have written so to -Your Majesty." - -William glanced at the pile of unopened correspondence; he flushed and -looked again at M. van Keppel. - -"Sire," said the young soldier proudly, "there is Fleurus, Steinkirk, -and Landen to avenge. I rode past Namur a week ago and saw the Bourbon -lilies flying above the keep." - -"Namur!" repeated William, and his eyes widened. - -The loss of Namur had been the worst disaster of all the disasters of -the war. William had perhaps never known such humiliation as when the -great fortress fell before his eyes. - -"M. de Vauban," continued Joost van Keppel, "hath added to the -fortifications of M. Kohorn and declared the town impregnable; they have -fixed a vaunting notice over the gate defying us to retake it--but, -sire, it could be done." - -"There spoke a soldier!" flashed the King. "That spirit in my men -wrested back the three Provinces in '74." - -"That spirit is alive still, sire--they who drove back the French then -could take Namur now." - -William looked at Sunderland. - -"Would your English be pleased," he asked, "if we took Namur?" - -"There is nothing would so delight the people as a great victory in the -Low Countries," answered that nobleman. - -"So they defy us," said the King. "And Namur is even more important -than it was; it must be the strongest fortress in Europe. Certainly it -is a prize worth while." - - M. van Keppel spoke again. - -"M. de Maine is to be sent with M. de Villeroy." - -"So they send M. de Maine to fight us, do they?" exclaimed the King. -"We should be the equal of M. de Maine." - -He looked kindly and steadily at M. van Keppel. - -"My child," he said, "you are a good patriot, and that is the best thing -in the world to be. We must give you a regiment. We hope to see you in -Flanders." - -He smiled, and the young soldier, who had been taught all his life to -regard him as the first of living men, bowed, overwhelmed, with tears of -pleasure in his eyes. - -William gave him his hand and Joost van Keppel kissed it reverently, -then, at a delicate sign from Sunderland, retired, followed by the Lord -Keeper. - -The King sat very quiet, looking into the fire. Portland came and stood -behind his chair. - -"Will you go out to the war?" he asked. - -"Yes," said William simply. - -Sunderland darted a sideway look at Portland, who flushed. - -"I am indeed glad of that," he said sternly. - -"That is a gallant youngster," said the King. "I ever liked him. I -will keep him about me; he is a pleasant creature." - -"He is," replied Portland; "a rakehelly good-for-nought, as every one -knows." - -William smiled faintly; he was the most tolerant of men, and had no -interest in those faults that did not cross his designs. - -"I have loved rakes before," he said, and looked at my Lord Romney. - -The two Englishmen laughed a little, but Portland answered, with some -anger-- - -"He is a young prodigal with more debts than wits; you should not have -given him your hand." - -The King did not resent his friend's brusque address, he answered -quietly, in his weak voice-- - -"It would give me pleasure to pay some of those debts." - -Sunderland softly put in a remark. - -"M. van Keppel is the most obliging, sweet-tempered gentleman in the -world, and one most devoted to Your Majesty." - -"And a great friend of your lordship," said Portland, with a cold -haughtiness. He perceived, as he thought, a design on the part of -Sunderland and Somers, with perhaps Marlborough behind them, to put up a -rival to share with him the King's affections, which had been wholly his -for near their joint lives, and he could not contain his scorn and -resentment, nor was he assuaged by the obvious unconsciousness of the -King. - -Romney made some attempt to shift the subject; he came forward in the -easy gracious way habitual to him. - -"Your Majesty will be soon for Flanders, then?" he asked. "It is a noble -resolution." - -William rose. - -"I think it is my duty," he answered. He took up the plans of Greenwich -Palace from the window-sill. "I think it is all there is for me to do. -I thank you, my lords," he added, with dignity, "for having so long -borne with me." - -He gave a little bow and left them to enter the inner room. As the door -closed on him Sunderland smiled at the other two. - -"Have I not succeeded?" he demanded. "He is roused, he will go out to -the war, I even think that he will take Namur." - -"You are very clever, my lord," admitted Romney, "and surely you have -done the King a great service." - -Portland broke in hotly-- - -"You pulled the strings of your puppet very skilfully; you know how to -deal with the weaknesses of men, but those who are the King his friends -do not love to see him practised on for party purposes." - -"I stand for more than party purposes," answered Sunderland, with sudden -haughtiness. "My cause is the King his cause--that is sufficient--and -for the rest, my deeds are not answerable at the tribunal of your -virtues, my lord." - -Portland came a step nearer to him. - -"You scarce believe in God--you are little better than an atheist--yet -all these terms are glib upon your tongue, and your tool, a shallow -popinjay, can prate very nicely of sacred things. You are not -sincere--you care for nothing--for no one." - -Romney made a little movement as if he would have stepped between the -two earls, but Sunderland answered unmoved-- - -"I have my policy too much at heart to jeopardize it by expounding it -myself. I fear that my principles would suffer by my lack of -eloquence." - -"Your principles!" cried Portland. "Your policy--what is it?" - -"Too precious a thing for me to risk on a turn of the tongue, I repeat, -my lord. I speak in actions. Watch them and know my answer." - - - - - CHAPTER III - - ATTAINMENT - - -It was the commencement of the campaign of 1695; as yet nothing had been -done either side. The men at Versailles who managed the war had -concentrated their forces in Flanders, and there the allies had gathered -to meet them; the Elector of Bavaria and other princes of the Empire -were encamped with the Germans guarding Brussels; the Brandenburghers -and Spanish lay at Huy; the Dutch and British under the command of the -King of England, at Ghent. - -The French waited. Villeroy was not Luxembourg; he had no genius for -command, and he was hampered by the presence of the Duc de Maine, his -pupil and his superior, who showed no aptitude for war, not even common -courage. Boufflers watched the King of England, the meaning of whose -marches he could not fathom; his oblique moves might cover a design on -either Ypres or Dunkirk; for a month they continued, and neither -Villeroy nor Boufflers suspected an attempt on Namur. - -But on June 28th, the King, the Elector, and the Brandenburghers -advanced with a swift concerted movement straight on Namur with such -suddenness and rapidity that M. de Boufflers had scarcely time to throw -himself into the fortress before the three divisions of the allied army -closed round the walls of the town. - -The Prince de Vaudemont had been left in Flanders to watch Villeroy. -That general believed he could wipe out this force and then drive the -allies from Namur--he said as much in his dispatches to Versailles; but -M. de Vaudemont effected a masterly retreat into Ghent, and the easiness -of the French Court was disturbed, especially as it was whispered that -an action had been avoided owing to the poltroonery of M. de Maine. - -M. de Kohorn, the principal engineer of the allies, had set his heart on -the capture of the fortress that he had seen taken by his great master -and rival, M. de Vauban. The Frenchman had since added considerably to -the fortifications, and rendered Namur the strongest fortress in the -world, and M. de Kohorn was spurred by professional pride into a -desperate attempt to make good his failure of three years ago. - -A week after the trenches were opened the English foot guards gained the -outworks on the Brussels side; on the seventeenth the first counterscarp -of the town was captured; on the twentieth the Germans gained Vauban's -line of fortifications cut in the rock from the Sambre to the Meuse and -the great sluice or waterworks; on the twenty-third the Dutch and -English made conquest of the second counterscarp, and the town -capitulated, Boufflers and the garrison retiring into the citadel, -leaving behind them about fifteen hundred wounded men to be cared for by -the allies. - -On the 6th of August the allies, led by the King of England, marched -into Namur by the St. Nicolas Gate, and prepared for the last and -terrible assault on the garrison. - -Villeroy, who had meantime taken the petty towns of Dixmuyde and Deynse, -endeavoured to induce the King to raise the siege of Namur by menacing -Brussels, which he shelled and greatly damaged; but in vain, for William -was not to be lured into relinquishing his prey, and Villeroy, after two -days, marched on to Enghien, and, having collected the greater number of -the French troops in the Netherlands, amounting in all to over eighty -thousand men, advanced to the relief of Namur. - -But the Prince de Vaudemont having now joined the allied forces it was -considered that they were strong enough to face Villeroy, and at the -same time continue the siege of the castle and hold the town. - -On the fifteenth the French host fired a salute of ninety guns as a -haughty promise of relief to Boufflers; from then to the nineteenth the -two mighty armies faced each other, neither making any movement. Europe -held its breath, Paris and London, The Hague and Vienna, Brussels, still -half prostrate from French fires, Rome and Madrid waited in almost -unbearable suspense for the result of the promised and, it seemed, -inevitable combat between the two finest and largest armies that had -ever met on European soil. - -Boufflers burnt fire signals every night on his watch-towers, which -urged haste to Villeroy, who still lay beyond the mighty ring of the -confederate army who incessantly stormed the citadel. - -On the nineteenth the King rose at dawn, got his forces under arms, and -rode from post to post surveying his troops and watching the enemy; he -was in the saddle from four in the morning till nightfall, and tired out -three horses. When he returned to his tent that had been pitched in the -encampment on the west of the town near the Abbey of Salsines, there was -no portion of his vast army that he had not personally inspected. - -He dined alone; the Elector of Bavaria and the other German princes -being in immediate command of the troops that were actually storming -Namur. - -He expected that Villeroy would attack him as soon as it was light, and -his preparations were complete. - -He had an interview with M. Dyckfelt, who was with the army as -representative of the States General, and was then alone, it being about -ten of the clock and a hot summer night. - -All the light in the tent came from a silver lamp suspended from the -cross-poles, which gave an uncertain and wavering illumination. The -King sat in the shadows; on the little table beside him was his sword, -his pistols, and a map of Namur. - -He was thinking of twenty-three years ago when, in his early youth, he -had first led an army against France; his entire force then had numbered -little more than the servants, footmen, and attendants in his retinue -now. All Europe had been against him, half his country in the hands of -the enemy, the home government in the control of the opposing factions. -The man of forty-four looked back at the achievements of the youth of -twenty-one with an extraordinary sense--almost of wonder. - -He recalled with painful vividness how Buckingham and Arlington had come -to offer him the shameful terms of France and England, their scorn at -his rejection of the bitter bargain, and how even William Bentinck, gay -and thoughtless then, had despaired. Hopeless, indeed, it had seemed; -there had not been one to believe in him; but he had never doubted his -own destiny. - -And now he was justified in what he had undertaken, at least that, -whatever sorrows, humiliations, and disappointments had darkened his way -the outward semblance was of great and steady success. - -The Prince, who had been little better than a State prisoner and a pawn -in the politics of Europe, heir to a ruined family and leader of a -despairing nation, was now a King, directing half Europe, with one of -the mightiest armies the world had seen behind him. Of the monarchs who -had offered to silence his despised defiance with dishonourable terms -one was now dead, and he held his kingdoms; and the other, who then had -threatened to overrun the world, was now with difficulty holding his own -against a coalition that included all the principal countries of Europe. - -Not without concession, infinite patience, endless trouble, and long -waiting had William got these allies together. For the support and the -millions of England he was paying a price none but himself could gauge -the bitterness of. To Scandinavia he had had to sacrifice some of his -cherished maritime privileges; Spain, the most provoking of the -confederates, had been kept by much expenditure of art and money; the -German princes had been held together by a title, a garter, a subsidy, -an honour, a promise of a prospective dignity. Now, before the walls of -Namur, the man whose genius and indomitable courage had, during twenty -years, toiled towards this end, might feel that he was beginning to -taste his reward. - -He was facing France, equal to equal; he was feared and respected -throughout the world. The Protestant faith, threatened with extinction -by Louis, he had placed on a basis from which, as long as any faith -lasted, it could never be displaced. His country was free, and -prosperous, and foremost among nations again; the power of France was -already too crippled for there to be longer any fear of her upsetting -the balance of power. - -The English fleet, useless since Elizabeth, again was mistress of the -seas. Russell passed unmolested between Spain and Italy, defied the -remnant of the French fleet imprisoned in Toulon port, and dared the -whole of the Mediterranean seaboard. Berkeley passed unmolested along -the French coast, burnt Granville, shelled Calais and Dunkirk, and kept -the English flag high and undisputed above the Channel. - -The man who had been the boy who had once passionately resolved to do -these things found the realization of them different indeed to those -bright imaginings. Attainment of fame, honour, power, success could not -give more than a faint remembrance of the throb of exultation the -youthful Prince had felt when he, penniless, unsupported, hampered in -every possible way, had first flung his challenge to overwhelming odds. -Then there had been everything to do; but ardent courage and unspoilt -faith had gilded difficulties, and the heroic pride of youth had smiled -at obstacles; now the loss of a love the boy had never dreamt of had -made all things else appear small to the man. - -Twenty years of toil, of acquaintance with treachery, deceit, smallness, -weakness, twenty years of misunderstood endeavour, of constant strain, -of constant fatigue had done their work. The fine spirit did not shrink -from its task, but never again could it recapture the early glow of -hope, the early ecstasy of labour, the early pride of achievement. - -What was his achievement, after all. He might well think that the God -he had served so patiently had mocked him. He had loved but to lose his -love; he had bartered his personal ease, almost his liberty, almost his -pride for bitter honours held in exile; his health was utterly worn out, -his days were a continual weariness and pain; he was again as lonely as -he had been when he was the prisoner of the States; he had no heir, and -the main branch of his family died with him; if he could not finish -himself his task he must entrust it to strangers to complete. Surely -all was utter vanity and vexation. The cold consolations of a sombre -faith only supported him. He clung to those beliefs in which Mary had -died, and faced the few years that at best remained to him with the same -high courage with which she had met her fate. - -He rose presently, in the perfect stillness, and went to the entrance of -his tent, lifted the flap, and looked out. - -The French red flares on the towers of Namur were visible across the -great plain of the Sambre and Meuse; the starlight showed the huge -encampment stretching out of sight under the clear sky: near by a sentry -paced with his musket over his shoulder; it was very hot and not a blade -of grass stirred in the absolute arrested stillness. - -Presently a surgeon passed through the tents carrying a lantern and -followed by a servant leading a mule laden with his chest. The light -flickered awhile amid the canvas then disappeared; a dog barked and a -man whistled to it; the silence fell again as intense as before. - -The King went back and flung himself on his couch; he could not come -near sleep, but lay watching the long, pale beams of light the lamp cast -over the worn grass that formed the floor of the hastily constructed -tent. - -His mind kept dwelling on his first campaign, his miserable army, his -own ignorance of all but book tactics, his lack of money, of -authority--yet that had been the first spark of that fire that now lit -Europe. He had formed and trained his own armies--Dutch, -Brandenburghers, Swedes, Germans, and lately the English--until they -were equal to those consummate French troops who had laughed at him in -'72; but they fought with no more devotion and courage than the handful -of Hollanders who had rallied round him then, now incorporated into the -famous Dutch Guards, the most beloved of all his beloved army. - -He thought of these Guards marching against Villeroy now, feared and -honoured, and his heart fluttered faintly with a fleeting pleasure that -they should ever face the French on these terms. - -He closed his eyes and instantly there spread before him a vision of the -great banqueting hall at Whitehall hung with black, and the banners and -armours of his family, while in the centre was a mighty catafalque of -black velvet which bore an open coffin, at the foot of which lay a royal -crown and sceptre. She who rested there was covered to the chin in gold -stuff, and round her head was twisted her dark, curling, auburn hair. - -The King sprang up and walked up and down the uneven ground; he drew -from under his shirt and cravat a long, black ribbon, to which was -attached a gold wedding-ring and a long lock of that same rich hair that -he had seen in his vision. - -He paused under the lamp and gazed at it; in that moment he prayed that -he might find his death in to-morrow's battle with as much passion as -any poor wretch ever prayed for hope of life. He was still standing so, -forgetful of time and place, when he heard voices without, and hastily -put the ribbon back over his heart. - -The flap was raised and the figure of a young officer showed against the -paling sky. - -"Is it M. van Keppel?" asked the King quietly. - -"Yes, sire." The speaker entered. He had been sent with the King's -commands to the Elector of Bavaria. - -"M. de Bavaria understands everything?" inquired William. - -"He is quite ready, sire." - -"So are we," said the King. "I should think M. de Villeroy would make -the attack in an hour or so--the dawn is breaking, is it not?" - -"The sun was just rising, sire, above the river, as I rode from the camp -of His Highness." - -"Yet the light is very faint here. Will you, Mynheer, light the other -lamp?" The King spoke gently, but he had quite regained that command of -himself which rendered his demeanour so stately and impressive. - -M. van Keppel obeyed and was then retiring, but William, who was seated -by the table, asked him to stay. - -"I may have another message for you," he added. - -The officer bowed. - -William rang the little hand-bell near him and a valet instantly -appeared from the curtained inner portion of the tent. The King lived -very simply when at the camp. He now asked for wine, and when it was -brought made M. van Keppel drink with him, which honour caused the young -soldier to redden with pleasure. - -"I hear," said William, "that the garrisons of Dixmuyde and Deynse have -been sent prisoners to France. That breaketh the treaty we made for the -exchange of captives--treachery and insolence, it seemeth, are the only -methods of France." - -"Treachery and insolence will not for ever prevail," answered Joost van -Keppel, in his sweet, ardent voice. "The fortunes of Your Majesty begin -to overleap the arrogance of France." - -"There will be a great battle to-day," remarked the King quietly and -irrelevantly. - -The powerful summer dawn, strengthening with every moment, penetrated -the tent and mingled with the beams of the two lamps. The King sat in -the crossed lights; his gentleman knelt before him, fastening the great -gilt spurs to his close riding-boots. He looked at Joost van Keppel -gravely and kindly; his face, pale in its proper complexion, was tanned -darkly by the Lowland sun; his eyes were extraordinarily bright and -flashing, but languid lidded and heavily shadowed beneath; his large, -mobile mouth was set firmly; his long, thick curls hung over his black -coat, across which showed the blue ribbon and star that he had not -removed since he had reviewed his forces yesterday. - -"Mynheer," he said to M. van Keppel. "Lift the flap and look out----" - -The young Dutchman obeyed and a full sunbeam struck across the dim -artificial light. - -"A fine day," remarked William; he was ever fond of sun and warmth. - -As M. van Keppel stood so, holding back the canvas and gazing over the -tents that spread across the plain of the Meuse, a gentleman, armed on -back and breast with a gold inlaid cuirass, wrapped in a black silk -mantle and carrying a hat covered with white plumes, rode up, -dismounted, and entered the King's tent without a word of ceremony. - -M. van Keppel bowed very respectfully; it was the Earl of Portland. - -On seeing the King alone with the young officer his face darkened; he -answered the King's greeting of unconscious affection with stern -brusqueness. - -"There are letters from England--I met the messenger," he said, and laid -the packet on the table by the wine-glasses. - -Joost van Keppel was quick to see the instant shock that William -quivered under, and to perceive the cause of it. When last the King had -been at the war not a post had arrived from London without a letter from -the Queen. The young man thought Portland had acted with some -harshness; he came forward and said impulsively-- - -"Letters from England, my lord, are not of such importance that they -cannot wait till after the battle." - -This was to Portland incredible impertinence; he stared at the flushed, -generous face with bitterly angry eyes; but William seemed relieved. - -"Yes, let the news wait," he said, and rose. - -"If this was known in London what would they say?" broke out Portland. - -"How can it be known in London when I have none here but friends?" -answered the King. - -"I thank Your Majesty for including me with M. van Keppel as your -friend," flashed Portland. - -The King looked at him sharply, then from one man to another. - -"Mynheer van Keppel," he said, "you will return to M. de Bavaria and -tell him to be in readiness for a message from us." - -The officer bowed with great deference and sweetness to his master and -the Earl, and instantly retired. - -"Will you not read those letters?" asked Portland, in no way appeased. - -William gave him a glance between reproach and wonder, broke the seals, -and looked over the letters. - -"Nothing," he said, when he laid them down, "save that some sugar ships -from Barbadoes have been taken by the French, that there is great -uneasiness on the Stock Exchange." - -"Nothing of M. de Leeds?" asked Portland. - -"No," said the King; he was standing up and his gentleman buckled him -into his light cuirass; "but I will not have him touched--he is punished -enough." He added, with some contempt, "Is Leeds so much worse than the -herd that he should be hunted from it?" - -"A corrupt man," answered Portland gloomily; "but you were always tender -with him." - -William was silent. His obligation to Leeds consisted entirely of that -nobleman's devotion to the Queen; he thought that Portland knew this and -despised him for such sentiment in politics. Neither spoke any more on -the subject. - -"M. Montague is a clever man," remarked the King, after a little; -"another pensioner of my Lord Dorset. How goeth the other, your -secretary?" - -"Ah, Prior," replied the Earl, "well enough, but I think him an atheist. -His poetry is full of heathen gods, and when I probed him on the subject -he was not satisfactory in his answers, but well enough." - -"Put my Lord Sarum on to converting him," said William drily; "but I -should not take much account of his poetry." - -The King's gentleman went into the back part of the tent and Portland -instantly addressed his master with great heat. - -"Sir, I must tell you that it is a source of great wonder to all that -you should so encourage, favour, and caress a worthless young rake like -M. van Keppel--a mere hanger-on to court favour; your dignity suffers by -it----" - -The King interrupted. - -"Are you jealous--you--of him?" he asked mournfully. - -"I have enough to make me jealous," was the hot answer, "when I see the -creature of such as my Lord Sunderland creep into your affections." - -The King answered in gentle, dignified tones, without a touch of anger -or resentment-- - -"You are indeed wrong. I like M. van Keppel for himself--I find him -sweet and intelligent, a willing servant--and I have not too many. But -you know, even while you speak, that nothing could come between me and -you." - -"I think he hath come between us," said Portland sternly; "during the -whole campaign he hath hardly left your side. I believe you even consult -him as to your actions--he!--why, the whole camp knoweth his reputation. -I could tell some tales----" - -The King broke in. - -"I'll hear no scandals. You know that of me. If we are to listen to -tale-bearing there is not one of us safe. If I favoured any man do you -not think there would be tales against him? But I did not think to find -you leaning on gossip." - -He still spoke with an utter calm; but Portland took his words heavily. - -"If you choose to reprimand me----" he began. - -"Forgive me," said the King instantly. "I thought you would understand. -Indeed, forgive me. I would do anything in the world not to vex you." - -The return of the gentleman with William's gloves and cloak cut short -the conversation. The King fastened his sword-belt over his shoulder -and adjusted the weapon; as he took up his hat with the long black -feathers a magnificent Brandenburgher officer entered, followed by M. -Dyckfelt. - -"Your Majesty," said the Dutchman quietly, "M. de Villeroy hath -retreated in the night--leaving M. de Boufflers to his fate." - -The Brandenburgher went on one knee and handed William a dispatch from -the commander of the scouts, who had seen the last vanishing rearguard -of the French. - -The King showed no emotion of any kind. - -"Count," he said to the officer, "you will go to M. de Bavaria and -request him to make an immediate assault on Namur." - -When the officer had withdrawn, with profound obeisance, William turned -to Portland. - -"I will ask you to go to M. de Boufflers and demand a surrender. Tell -him that there is no further hope for him from M. de Villeroy, and that -if he wisheth to spare his garrison he must capitulate to-day." - -Portland bowed gravely and turned away. William looked after him -keenly, then took up his perspective glass, his gloves, and his baton, -and left the tent. - - - - - CHAPTER IV - - A MAN'S STRENGTH - - -M. de Boufflers refused to surrender; he was a Marechal de France, he -had still many thousand men, including M. Megrigny, the engineer -esteemed second only to M. de Vauban, and the castle was deemed -impregnable. The assault was fixed for one in the afternoon. The King -of England, the Elector of Bavaria, the Landgrave of Hesse, other German -potentates and the officers of their staff gathered on the rocky -promontory immediately below the ramparts of the citadel; before them -rose the castle ringed with walls, batteries, palisades, fosses, dykes, -and traverses, and set back two miles or more in elaborate ramparts and -outworks. - -The allies had formed a complete circumvallation round the huge -fortress, and had opened their trenches at the very foot of the rock -which M. de Vauban had fortified with such deadly skill. - -The day was extraordinarily hot and cloudless; the sun, being now just -overhead, blazed with equal light on the ruined town, the lofty castle, -on counterscarp, glacis, and half-moon, on the trenches, the defences of -wattled sticks lined with sandbags, on the distant spreading encampment -of the allies, on the still more distant sparkle of the Meuse, which -glittered across the great plain and on the walls of the Abbey of -Salsines. - -It shone, too, on a thousand flags, a thousand squads of men moving with -bayonets and matchlocks set to the attack, and gleamed in the armour of -the little group of gentlemen who were directing the operations, and -sometimes sent a long ray of burning light from their perspective -glasses as they turned them on the castle or the approaching regiments -of their own troop as they defiled through the town. - -It had been arranged that the assault was to be made in four places at -once, by the Dutch, Brandenburghers, Bavarians, and English severally; -the first three were tried and veteran troops, the fourth, however, -consisted of recruits who were seeing their first campaign and had never -been under fire before; the best English troops had marched to encounter -Villeroy, and had not been summoned to the attack. - -The King turned his glasses on the trenches where these regiments -waited; they were under the command of John Cutts, as brave and gallant -an officer as ever breathed. - -William put down his glasses and looked up at the grim citadel. - -"This is a severe test for them," he remarked. - -The Electoral Prince was taking a bet from the exultant Kohorn that they -would enter Namur by the 31st of August. William laughed. - -"I am sorry that Your Highness should put money on our failure," he -said. "I hear that the betting in London is greatly in our favour." - -"This is a matter of dates, Your Majesty," answered M. de Bavaria. "I -say 'No' only to August the 31st." - -"I am glad M. de Kohorn is so confident," said William graciously to the -great engineer. - -M. de Hesse, who wore on his finger a watch in a great ring of -brilliants, remarked that the time was near ten minutes to one; M. de -Bavaria bowed profoundly and galloped off to direct his own men in -person; the King looked keenly round to see that none of his servants -were lurking in the line of fire. Interference was almost as unendurable -to him as cowardice; more than once during the siege he had been -exasperated into horsewhipping some daring footmen or valet out of the -trenches. During the assault of July the 27th he had been considerably -vexed to see M. Godfrey, one of the directors of the new Bank of -England, among his officers, and had severely reprimanded him for his -presence in so dangerous a position. - -"But I run no more risk than you, sire," M. Godfrey had protested. - -The King's answer and the sequel were long remembered. - -"I, sir," he replied, "may safely trust to God, since I am doing my duty -in being here, while you----" - -The sentence remained unfinished, for a French cannon shot laid M. -Godfrey dead at the King's side. William had hoped that this would -prove a lesson to useless meddlers, but even since he had been provoked -by various people who had business at the camp, and who strayed into the -trenches to get a view of real fighting, often with no conception of the -danger of the slow dropping bombs and bullets. - -But this afternoon the King's eagle eyes were satisfied that the works -were clear of sightseers; it had been fairly well spread abroad that -this assault would be, beyond experience, terrible, and those whose duty -did not take them to the front were well in the rear. - -M. de Hesse and the other Germans having galloped off to their posts, -the King remained alone with his staff, midway between the ramparts that -were to be attacked and the English trenches, full in the cross-line of -fire, and motionless and conspicuous as a target on the little jutting -shelf of rock; his officers were a little way behind, and his figure was -completely outlined against the blue gap of sun-filled air behind the -rock slope. - -He rode a huge grey Flemish horse, dark as basalt and as smooth--very -lightly trapped with red leather linked with silver gilt--that he -managed as well as a man can. He had always been renowned for his -consummate horsemanship, and this great beast, that had taken two -footmen to hold in before he mounted, he held delicately with one hand -on the reins with such a perfect control, that the creature was utterly -motionless on the narrow ledge of slippery rock. - -The hot air was full of different distant and subdued sounds--the rattle -of the guns, the clink of the matchlocks striking the cobbles of the -town below, the tramp of feet, the neighing of horses, and, -occasionally, the crowing of a cock on some farm outside Namur. - -The King sat with his reins loose, holding in his right hand his baton -that he rested against his hip. He was intently watching the English -trenches. - -The clocks of the churches in Namur struck one; instantly a loud report -and a jet of flame came from the trenches below; two barrels of -gunpowder had been blown up as a signal for the attack. - -Before the smoke had cleared, all the minor sounds were silenced by the -steady beat of drums and kettledrums, and the King perceived the -Grenadiers marching from behind their defences and earthworks steadily -towards the ramparts of Namur--these were the men of Cutt's own -regiment. They were immediately followed by the four new battalions. -They came on steadily, in good order, with their bright, unspoilt -colours in their midst, their colonels riding before them. The King -could discern the slender figure of John Cutts marching on foot before -the Grenadiers with his drawn sword in his hand. - -There was no sign from the castle. The English leapt, man after man, -the last deep trench of their own earthworks, and suddenly, at a word -from their leader, whose voice came faintly to the King's ears, broke -into a run and dashed up the slope at the foot of the rock, and full at -the first wall of the French fortifications. - -Instantly the batteries of the garrison opened a terrible fire, and a -confused echo to their thunder told that the other three divisions of -the confederates were meeting a like reception. - -The English kept on; the little body of the Grenadiers, with the four -battalions supporting them and at the head of all John Cutts, climbed -the face of the rock with no sign of disorder. - -The King wheeled his horse round to face them, and his brilliant eyes -never left their ranks. - -The French commenced fire from the guns behind their first palisade, -which swept the ranks of the advancing English with deadly effect. - -Almost every officer of the Grenadiers fell on the hot, bare rock. The -drums began to give a disconnected sound, the colours wavered, but the -men pressed on, with Cutts still running before them and the recruits -doggedly behind them. - -The King sent one of his officers with orders for the English batteries -to open fire as soon as the breach had been made. - -There was, in the space of a few seconds, hardly an officer left among -the English, the colonels, captains, and lieutenants, who had dashed -forward to encourage their men, were lying scattered about the -hill-side--patches of scarlet and steel--with their riderless horses -running frantically back towards the camp. - -Still Cutts came on. The smoke was thick about him, but the King could -see him clearly as he came every moment nearer. The Grenadiers had -gained a firm footing on the ledge of rock beneath the palisade, and -were about to hurl themselves against it. The cannonade was now -supplemented by a storm of bullets. Cutts gave a shout, raised his -sword, and pitched to the ground, shot through the head, while the -thinned ranks of the Grenadiers rolled backwards down the rocks. - -The King uttered a passionate exclamation; a bomb, cast from the castle, -burst near him, and his horse reared frantically at the explosion. When -he had quieted the animal and the smoke had cleared, he saw two of the -Grenadiers coming towards him supporting John Cutts between them. As -they reached a deep, natural gully that cleft the rock, one fell and -rolled down the precipice; the other caught his officer by the arm and -swung him across the chasm; the King galloped up to them. - -"Is my lord slain?" he asked. - -The wounded man lifted his brown eyes and laughed. Blood blotched the -left side of his face and ran through the bright brown English locks. - -"Why, no, sir," he answered. - -"I am glad of that," said the King. "But your men are being -repulsed----" - -"God help me--not for long!" cried my lord, and dashed the blood out of -his eyes, and with that movement fainted. - -"Call up my surgeon," commanded William to one of his officers. Lord -Cutts was carried out of the firing line, and the King again directed -his attention to the English, who, leaderless, were nevertheless dashing -forward, though without order or method, sheer against the French fire. - -"It is too much for them," muttered William. - -This wild charge was suddenly checked by a deep precipice blown in the -rock by underground powder magazines; the raw soldiers stood helpless, -baffled. The air was of a continuous redness; the half-naked French -gunners could be seen, running in and out of their vaulted galleries and -crouching, behind the black shape of the guns; flying fragments of -shell, masonry, and rock fell among the leaderless English, who -hesitated, gave way, and retreated down the bloody slope they had -gained, each rank falling back on the other in confusion, while a shout -of triumph rose from the fiery ramparts of Namur. - -The King urged his beautiful horse up the zigzag path. The bullets -flattened themselves on the rocks about him with a dull, pattering -sound; the horse laid back its ears and showed the scarlet of its -nostrils; the King, with infinite skill and gentleness, brought it to a -higher ridge where he could better survey the heights. The English, -rolling back beneath him, looked up and saw him though the smoke, the -sun darting broken rays off the star on his breast. He took off his hat -covered with black plumes and waved it to them to encourage them to come -on. A ragged cheer broke from them; they plunged forward again, but a -terrific fire swept them back with half their number fallen. At this -moment the King saw Lord Cutts, hatless and with a bandaged head, -running up towards the glacis. - -William rode up to him. The red fire was about them as if it had been -the colour of the atmosphere. - -"My lord," said the King, reining up his horse, "they cannot do it." - -A young man in a splendid uniform came riding through the strong -smelling smoke. - -"Sire," he said, saluting, "the Bavarians are giving way--their general -hath fallen----" - -William spoke swiftly to the Englishman. - -"Can you rally your men to the assistance of the Bavarians, my lord? -'Tis hopeless to attempt to make a breach here." - -John Cutts smiled up at his master; he had to shout to make his voice -heard through the rattle of the cannonade-- - -"'Tis done, Your Majesty!" - -His gallant figure slipped, like a hound from the leash, into the smoke, -towards where the English Footguards were retreating, and William, -pointing with his baton to where he rode that his officers might follow -him, swept round the ramparts to where the Bavarians wavered before the -fire of the French. Regiment after regiment had hurled in vain against -the palisades, the ditches and clefts were choked with corpses, and in -every squad of men a great lane was torn every time the French gunners -fired their pieces, while the Dragoons stood on the glacis, sword in -hand, ready to cut down whoever should touch the palisade. - -"They are very determined," remarked William calmly, glancing up at the -red-hot line of fire bursting from the French batteries; "but so am I." - -As he spoke a bullet passed through his hair so close to his cheek that -he felt the warm whizz of it; and another, almost simultaneously, tore -through the ends of his scarf. - -"For God's sake, sire," cried the officer near him, "this is certain -death." - -But the King took no heed of him; his sparkling eyes were fastened on -the faltering ranks of Bavaria, who were being borne, steadily but -surely, down the slopes, leaving dead behind them, their commander, and -most of their officers. - -At the very moment when it seemed that they had hopelessly lost ground, -John Cutts came running up with the colours of the Grenadiers in one -hand and his sword in the other, behind him two hundred of the English -recruits whom he had rallied from the retreat. - -The Bavarians, encouraged by this help, took heart and came forward -again and began climbing up the rock; but Cutts and his English dashed -ahead of them right into the cannon fire, forced their way through the -palisade, and engaged in a hand to hand fight with the gunners and -Dragoons, who were driven back from their defences and hurled over their -own ramparts on to the bayonets of the Bavarians below. In a few -moments the English had captured the battery, swung the guns round and -directed them at the Castle. With a shout the Bavarians dashed through -the breach in the wall and, climbing over corpses of men and horses, -poured into the enemy's lines. - -The King watched them as they scaled ditches and trenches and palisade, -then made a detour round the fire-swept face of the rock to the point -the Dutch had been ordered to attack. Splendid soldiers, splendidly -commanded, they had already gained the position and with very little -loss; the French gunners lay in torn and mangled heaps behind their -pieces, which the Dutch were engaged in turning on the garrison. - -William now gave orders that his batteries were to be brought in play -from every available position, both on the ramparts gained and from -every rock and out-work in the possession of the allies. He himself -rode through the broken wall and took up his position inside the French -palisades, where his horse could scarcely find a footfall for the dead -and dying. The air was so full of powder smoke that the walls and -turrets of the castle appeared to hang as in a great fog with no visible -foundations; the crack of musketry was incessant, and little threads of -flame ran across the dark heavy vapour; fragments of rock and wall -rolled continually down the slope--dislodged by bombs bursting or the -explosion of barrels of gunpowder. But this was as nothing to the -cannonade. When the combined batteries of the allies opened on Namur, -the oldest soldier could remember no such fire--it was a bombardment -such as had never been known in war. The French gunners dropped one -after another before they could put their fuses to their pieces, and -were obliged to take refuge in their underground galleries; the roar was -unceasing, and the continual flames lit up the rocks, the chasms, the -bastions with as steady and awful a glare as if the world was on fire. - -A body of Dragoons made a gallant sally out on to the glacis, but were -swept down to a man before they had advanced a hundred yards. The -Dutch, under cover of the French palisades, picked off with musket shot -every Frenchman who appeared within range, portions of the walls and -curtains began to fall in, the sacking and wattles, put up to catch the -bullets, caught fire and flared up through the smoke. - -The King could scarcely see his own staff-officers for the glare and -harsh blinding vapour. His ears were filled with the lamentations of -the mangled and delirious wretches who lay scattered about the glacis, -and the sharp screams of the wounded, riderless horses who galloped in -their death agony across the ramparts and hurled themselves from the -precipices beneath. The King caressed his own animal; the insensibility -of his profession had not overcome his love of horses. He never could -look with ease at the sufferings of these gallant creatures; for the -rest, he was utterly unmoved. He turned his face towards the fires that -made many a veteran wince, and there was not the slightest change in his -composure save that he was more than ordinarily cheerful, and showed, -perhaps, more animation than he had done since the death of his wife. -Having satisfied himself that the Dutch had silenced all the French -batteries at this point, he rode to the demi-bastion where the -Brandenburghers fought the Dragoons in a terrible battle which was -resulting in the French being driven back on to the fire of their own -guns. Here he drew up his horse on the edge of a fosse that had a -cuvette in the middle of it with a covered way along it, from which the -French were still firing from platoons and muskets. - -The King thrust his baton through the folds of his scarf and laid his -hand on the tasseled pistol in his holster; he guided his horse commonly -and by choice with his left hand, for his right arm had been shot -through twice, at St. Neff and the Boyne, and was less easily fatigued -with the sword than the reins. He now looked about him and perceived -that his way to the Brandenburghers was completely barred by some -traverses to intercept fire, besides by the fosse from the gazons of -which the soldiers were firing, and, on the glacis which slopes before -it, several gunners were hauling a battery into place; not far behind -them a fierce fire was being maintained from a projecting javelin. - -The French, lurking in the cuvette, saw the King, and, recognising him -by his great star, proceeded to take deliberate aim. He looked round -for his staff, whom his impetuous advance had completely out-distanced, -then galloped his horse right along the counter-scarp in full range of -the enemy's fire. A dozen muskets were aimed at him; he seemed not to -notice them, but set his horse at a little fosse that crossed his path, -and leapt over the dead French and bloody gazons that filled it. The -ground on the other side was so cut, dissected, and strewn with boulders -and fragments of rock, that the quivering horse paused, frightened by -the shower of bullets, and, not perceiving a foothold, the King slipped -out of the saddle without leaving go of the reins, ran along by the -horse's head, guiding him through the debris, and mounted again without -touching the saddle, a well-known feat of the riding school. He was now -almost up to the Brandenburghers, who raised a great shout as they saw -him galloping up through the smoke. He rode along the front of their -ranks and glanced up at the French crouching on their earth-works -waiting for the assault. - -The King drew his sword. - -"We must get nearer than this," he said to the officer in command. He -set spurs to his horse, and, wheeling round, charged straight at the -lines of France, the Brandenburghers after him with an irresistible -rush. - -An officer of Dragoons rose up from his comrades and struck up with his -sword at the figure on the huge grey charger. The King leant out of the -saddle, parried the thrust with his weapon. The Frenchman, hit by a -bullet in the lungs, rolled over with his face towards the citadel; the -last thing he saw on earth was the King of England high on the distant -heights of Namur with the column of Brandenburghers behind him and -before him, through the glare the tattered banner of the Bourbons waving -from the keep. - - - - - CHAPTER V - - A LEADER OF NATIONS - - -When the late evening fell it was obvious that nothing could save Namur, -the allies had advanced a mile on the outworks of the castle. M. de -Boufflers sent to request a two days' truce that he might bury the dead -who filled fosse and ditch. The King granted it. Before the time -expired the Marechal offered to surrender if he was not relieved in ten -days. William at once refused. His terms were instant surrender or -instant attack. M. de Boufflers capitulated, terms were speedily agreed -upon, the garrison was to go free, the citadel, stores, and arms to be -left in possession of the allies. - -On the 6th September, under a blazing sun, a marechal de France, for the -first time since France had been a kingdom, delivered up a powerful -castle to the enemy. It was the first obvious sign of that tide of -fortune that had been steadily setting against France since '88. It -meant more even than the conquest of the strongest fortress in the -world--it meant that the arms of Louis were no longer invincible. - -The garrison, reduced to five thousand, less than half their original -number, marched out through the breach made by the guns of the -confederate army, which was drawn up in lines of foot and horse that -reached to the banks of the glittering Meuse. - -The French came with full honours, with the beat of drums and the -ensigns erect, but their spirits were heavy with a bitter humiliation. -Their reverse was as unexpected as it was tremendous. - -M. de Boufflers and his staff came last of the garrison, the Marechal -decked with all the pomp of war, gold encrusted cuirass, silk scarf, -orders, a splendid white horse trapped in gilt and crimson, and a blue -saddle cloth _seme_ with lilies. - -He held his bare sword erect and his face was set sternly. He was -exceedingly troubled by the ceremony in which he was about to take part. -He would not, and could not, as a subject of King Louis, acknowledge the -Prince of Orange as King of England, but it was difficult to treat a -victorious general (and certainly a King _de facto_) with less than -respect and retain his own dignity, especially as the astute Frenchman -was perfectly well aware that William was King of England and would -never be shaken from his throne now in favour of the old man who was -wearing Louis' patience thin with his complaints and demands. Moreover -Portland had insinuated that the allies would take any slight to William -very ill indeed; so, between mortification at his position, his duty to -his master, his desire to avoid the ridiculous and not offend the -conventions of martial courtesy, the Marechal was in a perturbed temper -indeed. But as he neared the spot where the allied sovereign awaited -him, even his dilemma was forgotten in his curiosity to see the man who -filled so tremendous a part in the world, who for twenty years had -withstood France, who had risen to absolute power in his own country, -who had gained two kingdoms by diplomacy and a third by conquest, who -was the soul of a huge coalition and one of the greatest soldiers in -Europe, the man who was always spoken of in Paris with hatred and some -fear, as an upstart, a usurper, a heretic, one who had broken through -sacred family ties for the sake of personal ambition, and stirred Europe -into a turmoil to obtain a crown. - -This feeling was shared by every officer behind him. They were all -eager to see the Prince whom they had learnt from King James to regard -as a pitiless, cold self-seeker, and from Louis as a royal adventurer -unscrupulous and impudent. - -Not far from the castle the commanders of the allied forces were drawn -up, the German Princes, the representatives of Spain and the Northern -States and the United Provinces on horseback, and near them, in a -calash, or light open travelling coach, the King of England. - -M. de Boufflers reined up his horse a few paces away; a handsome young -gentleman with a very proud carriage, wearing a scarlet cloak, was the -foremost of the group. M. de Boufflers knew him for Maximilien of -Bavaria. - -The garrison came on slowly past the four black coach horses held by -footmen wearing the livery of England, until the Marechal found himself -face to face with the occupant of the coach and the Elector who sat his -horse immediately beside the door. - -There was a pause of silence; M. de Boufflers went pale under the eyes, -and looked with the irresistible attraction of great curiosity at the -man in the coach, who was surrounded by these brilliant and immovable -escorts of princely horsemen. - -He had heard the person of this Prince often described, and common -report had drawn a picture of him familiar to the minds of men, but he -found the original totally different, though there were the salient -characteristics, the frail stature, the strongly marked features, the -brilliant eyes, so well known throughout Europe. - -But the swift and general impression he made was entirely other to what -the Frenchman had expected. He saw a gentleman with an extraordinary -air of stillness and repose, dressed richly and rather heavily in black -and gold, wearing the George and the Ribbon of the Garter, but no other -decoration, and a hat with black feathers cocked back from his face; he -wore a long neck-cloth of Flanders lace, the ends of which were drawn -through the buttonholes of his brocade waistcoat, after the English -fashion. He sat leaning a little towards M. de Bavaria, and held in his -right hand a cane with a gold top. - -There was something in his expression, his bearing, wholly unlooked for -by M. de Boufflers, who could put no name to it, but thought, in a -confused way, that he had never seen a man whose principal occupation -was war appear less of a soldier. - -The King, without moving, fixed his dark, flashing eyes on the -Frenchman, and smiled, almost imperceptibly. - -M. de Boufflers performed the salute of the sword; he lowered his -weapon, not directly at the King, but it was too high an honour for the -Elector, and William alone bent his head in acknowledgment. - -The silence was profound as the gleaming weapon was returned to its -sheath. M. de Boufflers drew his breath unsteadily. He would go no -further; he spoke to the Prince to avoid the royal terms of address. - -"Your Highness, I must congratulate you upon your good fortune though it -is my own ill luck--but I must console myself that I have held even -Namur three months against such an army and such generals." - -The Elector uncovered and, turning to the King, repeated with profound -respect what the Marechal had said. - -William touched his hat in a formal salute silently. M. de Boufflers -coloured with vexation. The deference of the Elector, so much his own -superior, made his own attitude, he thought, appear ridiculous, but he -haughtily maintained it. - -"I surrender to Your Highness the keys of the Castle of Namur," he said, -and handed them with a bow to the Elector, who at once presented them to -the King. - -"Sire," said M. de Bavaria, very lowly, "M. de Boufflers has the honour -to request me to present to Your Majesty the keys of Namur." - -William took them and again saluted. - -"I, with Your Majesty's permission, will inform M. de Boufflers that -Your Majesty is satisfied that the terms of the capitulation are -fulfilled?" - -"Yes, Highness," answered William gravely, but still (as M. de Boufflers -was supremely conscious), with that slight smile. - -"His Majesty," said the Elector, "is pleased to compliment you, -monsieur, upon your gallant defence of the citadel." - -"I thank Your Highness," answered the Marechal, colouring deeply. -Neither he nor his officers could altogether conceal their astonishment -and vexation at seeing the proudest Princes of Germany treat William of -Orange with as great a deference as his meanest courtiers used to their -own master. - -"We need not detain you, monsieur," said the Electoral Prince. - -M. de Boufflers bowed over his saddle and passed on, his staff officers -behind him, all riding at the salute as they passed the allied -Sovereigns. - -When the last had gone, William, who had never taken his eyes from the -cavalcade, spoke to M. Dyckfelt who rode close to the carriage. - -"Mynheer," he said, "you will inform M. de Boufflers that he is our -prisoner until the garrisons of Dixmuyde and Deynse are released." - -M. Dyckfelt departed with a body of Dutch cavalry, and, as the King -drove off, he could hear the indignant exclamations of the French -officers as the Marechal was asked to deliver up his sword. The King -drove to his tent across the town of Namur, which was like a barracks -and a battlefield for soldiers and wounded. His bodyguard of princes -raised a fine cloud of white dust from the dry roads, the air was still -foul with the smell of powder and burning buildings, the sun burnt in -the acrid heavens with a sheer cloudless heat that seemed to draw all -freshness and moisture out of the earth, even the two great rivers had a -hard, molten look in the glare as if they were lead, not water. - -The commanders of the confederacy dined with the King; the tent was hot, -but shaded from the intolerable glare by three poor scorched chestnut -trees that cast a meagre shadow over the canvas. - -The Electoral Prince sat at the King's right, the Earl of Portland at -his left, and, for the first time, Joost van Keppel was at the King's -table, an honour that was not grudged by any of the potentates, for the -young soldier was exceedingly popular, being amiable, generous, sweet -tempered, and deferential, but Portland marked it with a bitter heart. - -William, seated in a vermeil armchair, wearing his hat, and treated by -the others as if they were no more than his subjects, gave the -toast--"The allied army"--in a whisper to the Elector, who passed it -round the table. It was drunk in silence, and the long meal, served on -gold and crystal, began. - -The King spoke hardly at all, save to utter a few sentences to Portland, -who received them coldly, and the others were, out of deference, silent, -all being, indeed, too elated with their recent great success (the -greatest they had achieved during the war), and too occupied in their -own thoughts with what this would mean to their several interests, to -care for speech. - -When the meal was nearly over, M. Dyckfelt came to say that M. de -Boufflers, after protesting violently, had delivered up his sword and -returned to Namur as a prisoner of the allies. - -"We will send him to Huy until we receive the two garrisons," said -William languidly, "though I doubt that we put too high a price on M. de -Boufflers." - -"His Master," remarked M. de Vaudemont, "must redeem him even at a -higher rate." - -"Ah, cousin," answered the King, "His Majesty will return the men for -pride's sake." - -"And there is the English post in," said M. Dyckfelt, "all in a reek -from skirting Villeroy's forces." - -"Why must you remind me of England?" asked William. - -Portland interposed quickly-- - -"Surely you will return almost immediately? Is this not a good juncture -to call a parliament?" - -"This is not a good season to discuss politics." The King administered -his reproof in the gentlest manner, but Portland, with a curt bow, -instantly set down his glass, rose, and left the tent. William flushed, -and a kind of tremor ran through the company. They thought that the -King would not take this even from Portland. - -But, after a second, he turned to the Prince de Vaudemont. - -"My cousin," he said quietly, "will you go after my lord and persuade -him that he is unreasonable?" - -The princes glanced at each other covertly as M. de Vaudemont obeyed. -M. van Keppel coloured violently; he knew perfectly well who Portland's -wrath was directed against, but his anger was not personal but for his -master thus openly slighted. - -The King sat silent, drinking slowly and looking down at the damask -cloth. In a few moments M. de Vaudemont returned alone. - -It seemed almost incredible that Portland should refuse to return when -sent for by the King and by such a messenger; William looked up. - -"Sire," said M. de Vaudemont, "M. de Portland asks your Majesty to -excuse his attendance." - -The King made no answer; he was outwardly composed, but the Elector, -glancing at his face, guessed that his triumph was as nothing to him -compared to the coldness of his friend. M. de Hesse broke the silence. - -"M. de Kohorn lost his bet after all!" he remarked; "until this moment I -had forgotten it." - -"I am a hundred pistoles the richer," answered the Elector, glad of the -discussion, "and yet I thought to lose--it was the victory of a few -hours only." - -William suddenly laughed. - -"Gentlemen," he said, slightly raising his glass, "I give you the loser -of that wager and the man who took Namur--Baron Menno Kohorn." - - - - - CHAPTER VI - - THE KING'S AGENT - - -In a fine dark room of a mansion in London, three men sat in attitudes -of bewildered trouble and despair, and a fourth, standing by a table of -highly polished walnut wood, looked at them with a white, bitter face. - -It was August of 1696, and exactly a year since the fall of Namur had -induced France to consent to open negotiations for a peace. A Congress -sat now at Ryswick, but with at present little hope of immediate -success. The King was again with the troops in Flanders, and England -was face to face with the most momentous crisis in her history. There -was, literally, not enough money to carry on the Government. - -When the King had returned from the last campaign, he had supported -Somers and Montague in the recoinage scheme, by which the mutilated and -clipped money of the realm was to be reminted; the plan was so daring as -to frighten most of the King's advisers, but Montague, having secured a -certain Isaac Newton as master of the Mint, proceeded to put his plans -into execution with skill and address. He was also largely responsible -for the scheme of the Bank of England, which, after paying a million and -a half for its charter, had enjoyed the confidence of the Government -until Robert Harley and Foley revived Chamberlayne's wild project of a -Land Bank. The King, anxious for money to commence the campaign and -carry on the government during his absence, had passed an Act before he -prorogued Parliament, establishing the Land Bank, which was to advance -him two and a half millions at seven per cent. - -The Tories declared that their scheme would soon ruin the earlier bank; -Charles Montague thought so too, though he and most other thoughtful -observers were certain that the Land Bank was an unpractical conception, -a mere delusion. But the country was not with them; the country -gentlemen, Whig and Tory, believed they saw an infallible way of -obtaining riches, the King wanted the money too much to inquire into the -means that produced it, and the Land Bank appeared to flourish while the -Bank of England tottered and showed every sign of ultimate failure. - -The Directors found it impossible to redeem the paper money that they -had put in circulation, and that malice or necessity demanded the -payment of. There was scarcely any money to be had; the mint worked day -and night to turn out the new milled coin, but the moment it appeared it -was hoarded by the panic-stricken public. The paper money fluctuated in -value so as to be almost useless, stock jobbers caused constant scares -on the Exchange, credit was paralysed, and the country was only held -together by Montague's device of exchequer bills bearing a small rate of -interest. - -The discovery of the assassination plot and the Jacobite schemes of -invasion had strengthened the King's position at home and made him as -popular as he had been in '88, but it had resulted in the recall of the -fleet from the Mediterranean, the renewed supremacy of the French in -those waters, and the instant defection of the Duke of Savoy, thus -causing the first rift in the coalition that William's unwearied skill -had maintained against the arts of Louis for seven years. - -He was now powerless to bribe or threaten. Early in the war Kohorn and -Athlone had burnt the huge stores that Louis had built with vast expense -at Givet, and France had staggered under the blow, but William was -helpless to take advantage of it. The treachery of the Duke of Savoy, -the state of the English finances, the general exhaustion of the allies, -caused M. de Caillieres, the French representative at Ryswick, to change -his tone, go back from the pledge he had given that William should be -recognised by Louis, and propound arrogant terms. - -Meanwhile the letters from the King became desperate; only his personal -influence kept the army, which was literally starving, together. He had -pledged his private fortune and strained his private credit in the -United Provinces as far as he could. - -And the subscription list of the Land Bank at Exeter 'Change remained -blank; only a few hundreds had been added to the five thousand -contributed by the King as an example. - -William even authorized the summoning of Parliament during his absence; -but the ministers dare not risk this expedient. He then sent Portland -to London to represent to the Council of Regency that something must be -devised to raise money, or, in his own words to Shrewsbury, "All is -lost, and I must go to the Indies." - -It was Portland who now faced the three ministers in Shrewsbury's rich -withdrawing-room. - -These three were the Lord Keeper, Godolphin, the one Tory in the -Council, and First Commissioner of the Treasury, and Shrewsbury himself, -now again Secretary of State, and as devoted to the Government as if he -had never, in an hour of weakness, tampered with St. Germains; he was, -perhaps, of the seven Lords Justices now governing England, the one most -liked and trusted by the King. - -Portland's usual slowness of speech and manner had given way to an -animated vigour. - -"The King must have money," he said, "at any cost--from anywhere; those -were my last instructions, and, gentlemen, there is more than even the -army at stake; it is the whole reputation, the whole credit, nay, the -whole existence of England." - -Even the lofty-minded Somers, whose courage had dared the Recoinage -Bill, was silenced; his lined, haggard, and bloodless face was frowning -with anxiety. - -Godolphin, even at this crisis contained and self-effacing, though -looking downcast and sombre, fixed his eyes on Portland blankly. - -Shrewsbury, emotional, overstrung, and harassed, broke into speech, -flushing painfully from red to white as he spoke, the Colberteen lace on -his bosom rising and falling with his unsteady breath. - -"We can only obtain forty thousand pounds from the Land Bank -subscriptions, and then under pressure and on hard terms," he cried. - -All the company knew this, but my lord was apt to waste words. Portland -looked at him in some disgust. - -"Forty pence would be as useful," he said dryly. "Come, my lords, this -Land Bank scheme has ended in failure; but is there no alternative to -declaring England bankrupt?" - -"By Heaven, I can see nothing else to do," returned Shrewsbury; "but, -since anything is better than lying down under misfortune, I have put -some hopes on to these negotiations with the Bank of England." - -But it might be read from his tone that these hopes of succour from that -almost defunct institution were faint indeed. - -Portland began walking up and down the room; he was resolved, if it was -within the bounds of possibility, to obtain this money; he had spent -many weary hours trying to screw out of Harley and Foley even half the -sum they had talked of raising, and it had been so much waste time. The -commission had expired a week ago, the offices in Exeter 'Change were -closed, and Portland was no nearer the object of his journey. There -remained now only the Bank of England, which had only been saved from -bankruptcy by a call of twenty per cent. on its shareholders, and -Portland could see no bright prospects from an institution, half ruined, -whose directors were in an ill humour against the Government, and barely -able to hold their own in the present crisis. - -He stopped at last before Shrewsbury, and clasped the back of the chair -beside him; his fair face was set, his blue eyes hard and bright. -Perhaps he was the more resolute to do the King this service since he -was deeply offended with him personally on account of Joost van Keppel's -rise to favour, and their long and deep friendship had reached a crisis -that could scarcely end in anything but a final severance of their -affection. - -"I will not return to Flanders without the money," he declared sombrely; -"it must be found; if this Bank faileth Parliament must be called." - -Shrewsbury answered in desperate peevishness-- - -"I have done all I could--I have been almost on my knees to the -dictators--I am baited out of my life! By God, I would sooner be a -hangman or a butcher than a statesman!" - -A silence of despair fell over the little company. Godolphin wiped his -lips, and looked out of the window at the sun-baked street; he was -wondering, with a sick sense of personal failure, what would happen to -him if king, government, and country crashed on ruin. Somers was -equally silent, but his thoughts were far different; he would have made -any sacrifice in his power to save the kingdom from disaster. - -They were interrupted by an usher announcing, "Mr. Charles Montague." A -little movement of interest animated them all. Portland turned wide, -expectant eyes on the new-comer; his plain common sense was quick to -discern genius; he had recognized it of late in the Chancellor of the -Exchequer, as he had recognized it years ago in his master. - -Mr. Montague advanced slowly, and seemed to enjoy the stir his coming -made; it was obvious that he considered the brilliant success of his -career entirely due to his own gifts--an opinion his colleagues -considered as unamiable as it was correct. - -He was a little man, and walked with a strutting air; his clothes were -of the utmost extravagance of fashion, and glistened with gold and -silver thread; his peruke was curled and powdered elaborately; and in -the hat he held in his hand was a small flashing mirror among the -feathers--the last whim of the mode; but there was a pride and -containment in his sharp features, a power and purpose in his keen eyes, -that overshadowed any fopperies of dress. - -He began speaking at once, and abruptly, but with much grace in the -delivery. - -"My lords, I am just come from the directors of the Bank. I have been -closeted with them all day, and they have promised me they will do what -they can. I asked for two hundred thousand pounds. I told them it was -the very least there was any use in offering to His Majesty. And I told -them it must be in gold or silver"--he waved his hand--"no paper, I -said, for Flanders." - -He seated himself, with another flourishing gesture, on the chair near -Portland. Under all his affectations was noticeable a deep pride and -satisfaction; the Bank on which everything now depended was his scheme; -that of his rival, Harley, had ended in dismal failure. He felt that -his brilliant career would be more brilliant still if his project saved -the Government now. - -"Two hundred thousand!" said Shrewsbury forlornly. The Land Bank had -promised two and a half million, and the King's last entreaty had been -for eight hundred thousand; but Portland caught even at this. - -"It would be something," he said; "it would cover His Majesty's most -pressing wants----" - -"It is all," answered Mr. Montague, "that I dare ask for--in hard -money--at such a time." - -"We are fortunate if we obtain it," remarked Somers. "Is it promised?" - -"No, Sir John," admitted the Chancellor; "for they cannot do it without -another call of twenty per cent. on their subscribers, and they may not -decide that themselves, but must submit it to the vote in a general -court----" - -"Why," interrupted the Duke, "there must be six hundred with a right to -vote at such a meeting!" - -"About that number, I think, your Grace," said Mr. Montague. - -"Why, good-bye then to our hopes of even this beggarly sum!" cried -Shrewsbury. "Are six hundred likely to agree to lending even sixpence -to the Government?" - -"Beggarly sum!" repeated Mr. Montague. "My Lord Portland here can tell -you what long debate and diplomacy it took to secure even the promise of -that amount----" - -"Yes, I know, Mr. Montague," answered the Earl grimly; "and I think the -sum worth any sacrifice. We _must_ have it. Could you have seen His -Majesty, gentlemen, as I left him at Attere, surrounded by starving -troops on the verge of mutiny, sending off agents to endeavour to raise -a few thousands on his word in Amsterdam, you would not consider two -hundred thousand paltry." - -He spoke with a personal emotion that surprised the Englishmen, who -believed that his relations with the King were painfully strained. They -respected him for his loyalty, though none of them had ever liked him, -and Somers at least gave him a quiet look of sympathy. - -Shrewsbury broke out into half-hysterical petulance. - -"Why are we doing it all? What use is there in any of it? We might as -well give it up now as afterwards. I confess that I have not the health -or spirit to endure more of it." - -Mr. Montague smiled; he knew perfectly well the motive behind every -action he undertook, and what was the object of his labours. The -younger son of a younger son, and ten years ago a Poor Scholar at -Cambridge, he was now one of the greatest men in the Three Kingdoms, and -able to confer benefits on the Crown. - -"There is no living in the world on any other terms than endurance," he -remarked complacently, "and a financier, your Grace, must learn to face -a crisis." - -"The good God knoweth I am not one," returned the Duke gloomily. - -"When is the general court to be held?" asked Portland; his one thought -to get the money from these men somehow, and return with it to the -desperate King. - -"On the fifteenth," said the Chancellor, "and I have sufficient faith in -the patriotism of the shareholders to believe they will stand by His -Majesty." - -Godolphin, who had been so silent hitherto that his presence was -scarcely noticed, spoke now from the window-seat. - -"You have done us a great service, Mr. Montague. I think we should all -be very grateful." - -This came gracefully from a member of that Tory party that had supported -Harley's bank. Mr. Montague bowed, very gratified; my lord had that -soft way of conciliating possible enemies with outspoken courtesy. - -Portland made no such speeches; he considered it only the bare duty of -the English to adequately support the King, whose life, ever since his -accession, had been one struggle to obtain money from the English -Parliament. - -He took up his hat and saluted the company. - -"I must endure with what patience I may till the fifteenth," he said, -and left them gravely. - -He went out into the sunny streets of London, and turned towards the -Mall. There was no coach waiting for him; he was frugal in his habits -to a fault, and uninterested in any kind of display. No one would have -taken him for anything but a soldier home from Flanders, tanned at the -wars--an obvious foreigner with a stiff military carriage. - -The town was very empty. The state of anxiety, suspense, and danger the -country was passing through was not to be guessed at from the well-kept -houses, the few leisurely passers-by, and the prosperous shops with -their wares displayed behind neat diamond panes. - -Portland, passing the pillared facade of Northumberland House and the -bronze statue of Charles I. on horseback, came into the Mall, past the -tennis-court and archery butts, where several people were practising, to -the pond covered with wild fowl and overshaded with elm and chestnut -that gave a thick green colour to the water. To his right was a row of -handsome houses looking on to the avenue of trees in the Mall, and at -most of the windows people were seated; for it was near the turn of the -afternoon, and a pleasant coolness began to temper the heat of the day. - -Portland looked at these people: fashionably dressed women, with lap -dogs or embroidery, drinking tea or talking; easy-looking men smoking or -reading one of the new sheets which had flooded the country since the -lapse of the censorship of the press--all comfortable, well-to-do, -self-satisfied, and rather insolent in their enjoyment of the sunshine, -and the shadow of the trees, and their own comfortable homes. - -William Bentinck seated himself on a bench under one of the great elms; -he felt bitter towards these people--towards England; he came near to -hating the country even as they hated him; he had a swift impression -that these lazy, prosperous citizens were the real masters, and he, and -his friends, and the King, little better than slaves. - -He looked at the women and recalled the poor Queen, who had had scarce -half an hour's ease since she had set foot on the quay by the Tower; who -had toiled and kept a brave face and a high heart, and done everything -that duty demanded of her--and for what reward?--to be reviled, abused, -slighted and, finally, to die of one of the hideous diseases the great -city engendered, and be forgotten in the changeable factions that -continued their quarrels even before she was in her grave. - -He looked at the men, and thought of the last letter from the King he -carried in his pocket; he saw some of the lines in it as if the paper -was spread before him--"I am in greater distress for money than can well -be imagined. I hope God will help instead of abandoning me; but indeed -it is hard not to lose all courage." It seemed to Portland that -Shrewsbury was right. What was the use of any of it?--what goad kept -them all at their tasks? What was the aim of all this incredible -labour, endeavour, fatigue, courage, and patience? - -Did the King endure what he was enduring that these people might make -knots, and drink tea, and sun themselves on the Mall in peace? - -Did he, William Bentinck, who was fond of gardening, and a quiet life, -and his own country, spend his life between war and exile, conflict and -distasteful company, that the boys in the tennis-courts might play their -games and laugh and shout as much as they wished? - -If it were so, the objects seemed miserable compared to the labour. - -But there was something more behind it all; Portland could not put a -name to it; he supposed that one day God would explain. - - - - - CHAPTER VII - - THE BANK OF ENGLAND - - -The Lord Justices who formed the Council of Regency were, with the -exception of my Lord of Canterbury, waiting, on this momentous 15th of -August, in the long gallery leading out of the Council Chamber in -Whitehall. - -Several other great men were there also; Sunderland, Romney, Wharton, -the Duke of Leeds--still, by the King's clemency, nominally Lord -President, though he had, since his disgrace over the East India -scandal, none of the honours or powers of that position, and was indeed -no more than a cipher where he had once been -all-powerful--Marlborough--who, since the Queen's death, vigorously -supported Government, while he waited with serene patience for the death -of William and the accession of the Princess his mistress--Admiral -Russell, and Portland, all filled by that anxiety that so nearly touched -every one of them--would the Bank of England raise the money to carry on -the government until Parliament met on the King's return? - -There were two women present--Lady Sunderland, who was talking to Lord -Romney, and Elizabeth Villiers, now Lady Orkney, conversing with much -animation with Lord Sunderland. Portland observed her with very strong -dislike. Though she was his first wife's sister he had never been in -the least intimate with her; he could not forgive her the influence she -had gained and exerted over William, who had taken her advice and -consulted her opinion often enough when she had first come with Mary to -The Hague. The usual tale-bearing, back-biting, mischief-making, and -scandal had stopped this friendship, but not before her wit and -intelligence had proved of great service to the Stadtholder, who, as -Portland knew, had continued to employ her in delicate negotiations, -even after he became King; and though she and William had scarcely seen -each other for many years, Portland believed that she still used an -oblique influence through Sunderland, with whom she had formed a close -friendship, which Portland considered very typical of Elizabeth -Villiers. - -He suspected her of being in some deep intrigue to supplant him by Joost -van Keppel, towards whom his feelings were now near hatred. He knew -that she had never liked him, and she was quite well aware that he had -again and again told the King it was undignified to employ a woman in -his affairs, and had even opposed the title and estates given to her -husband on her marriage. Portland heard the tales this gave rise to if -the King did not; Portland was vexed by the revival of old scandals if -Lady Villiers was not; he loathed the woman and resented her presence -here to-day. - -As he continued to stare at her across the splendid gallery, she -suddenly looked round at him, gave Sunderland a quick sentence, and to -Portland's equal surprise and vexation crossed over to him. - -"It is a long time since we have met," she said, and gave one of her -straight smiles. - -She was dressed in violet and silver, and wore a great Indian scarf -about her shoulders as if it were cold, instead of August. - -"I have been too employed to wait on your ladyship," answered Portland. - -She took no notice of that, but said abruptly-- - -"How did you leave the King?" - -"As much at ease as a man in his position could be," said the Earl -grimly. - -Lady Orkney did not look at Portland, but rather absently down the room. - -"He must be fairly weary of it all," she replied. "Do you think," she -added rather sharply, "he hath recovered from the death of the Queen?" - -"No, madam, nor will he ever," said my lord sternly. - -"How you dislike me!" cried Lady Orkney softly. "And I would have been -a good friend to you if you would have let me--believe me"--she looked -at him full now--"I would never do an ill turn to one of the King's -friends." - -"What is this, madam?" he asked haughtily. - -"Oh, you understand," she answered. "You know that M. van Keppel is a -friend of mine, and you have tried to do him ill offices--I tell you -that you have no cause--Joost van Keppel will harm nobody. Let him be." - -Portland was silent in sheer disdain. Elizabeth Villiers fixed him with -her queer eyes; her pronounced cast was very noticeable. - -"You should not dislike me," she said, "because I sometimes help the -King--Joost van Keppel will help him too, even in such follies as -courtesy and an obliging temper--a sweet reverence might mean much to a -broken man--consider that, my lord." - -He answered brusquely. - -"I consider that Joost van Keppel is a worthless young rake-hell, and -that those who push him into His Majesty's favour can have only mean -motives." - -"You certainly do not understand," she said quietly. - -A sudden thought flashed to Portland. - -"Was it you, my lady," he asked, "who put Sunderland to bring van Keppel -forward with his tale of Namur when the King was sick?" - -"Have you only just guessed it?" she answered. - -"I might have known it was a woman's trick," he said bitterly. "What -made you think of such a device?" - -She smiled and made no answer. - -"And why did you employ M. van Keppel?" added Portland. - -"Because," said Lady Orkney, "he was of the age the King's son might -have been." - -Portland stared. - -"A woman's trick, you see." She smiled. "Women think of these -things--do not consider me as a vulgar intriguer, even if you cannot -understand, and let M. van Keppel be--I think he will console the King a -little." - -"I, at least, am above your devices and those of my Lord Sunderland," he -answered roughly. - -Lady Orkney replied, still smiling, but with infinite sadness-- - -"Could you see into my heart you would know that I am not so happy but -that you might spare me." - -She gave a little courtsey and left him. He watched her return to the -window and look out at the alleys and parterres of the privy garden. - -He had been a little confused, but in no way appeased by her -conversation. She had confessed that she and Sunderland were behind van -Keppel, towards whom his thoughts turned with added dislike; then he -tried to banish consideration of all three of them, and to fix his mind -on the money he must obtain for the King. - -Devonshire (the Lord Steward), Pembroke (Keeper of the Privy Seal), and -Dorset (the Lord Chamberlain), were talking apart, and Portland joined -them. - -Pembroke informed him that Montague had gone down to the General Meeting -of the Bank of England and had promised to return immediately with the -news of the result of the Directors' proposition to the Company. - -"If these hopes vanish," said Devonshire gloomily, "what are we to turn -to next?" - -"A Parliament and taxes," answered Dorset concisely. - -"Oh, my lord," cried Pembroke, "Mr. Locke will tell you that is bad -finance." - -"Mr. Locke is a philosopher," remarked Dorset good-humouredly. - -"Good God, we get choked with 'em," remarked the magnificent Devonshire. -"Now Montague hath brought Mr. Newton into the Mint and Somers is always -deep with Mr. Locke----" - -"And my Lord Portland," cried Dorset, with the irrepressible levity of -his class and nation, "deep with a poet for his secretary." - -"As for that same poet," said Portland gravely, "I tell you, my lord, -that he now goeth to Church, and will not write profane verses on a -Sabbath." - -"A triumph indeed for the godliness of your lordship," said Devonshire -demurely. - -"Is this poor Matt Prior?" asked Dorset. "His verses on the taking of -Namur were very neat." - -"I did not read them," answered Portland dryly. "I never could endure -poetry or play-acting--the King is plagued with enough to paper London." - -"I remember in The Hague," smiled Devonshire, "when His Majesty was -expecting a promise of money from Amsterdam by every post, and I took in -a letter which I thought was it--but which proved to be a copy of verses -on his safe crossing from England, with a fresh heathen god in every -line--His Majesty's curses were powerful for a Christian Prince--and he -declared it had given him a distaste for the very sight of poetry." - -Dorset laughed; he remembered the occasion also as the only one on which -he had heard violent language from the austere King. Portland was -disgusted that they could amuse themselves with these recollections -during such anxious moments; it was only another proof, he thought, of -the shallowness of the English politicians. And even these anecdotes -turned on the King's lack of money; it must be six years since -Devonshire was at The Hague, and William was still in the same straits. -Portland wondered if the time would ever come when he would be free of -these burdens, and doubted it. - -The Chancellor of the Exchequer entered the gallery, and instantly -everybody formed a little group about him, including the two ladies, to -whom he gave a flourishing and gallant greeting. - -"I must tell you," he said, in a voice and with a manner that strove to -be indifferent, yet with a face flushed with pride, "that the money hath -been subscribed to His Majesty." - -Portland drew a great breath of relief. - -"Promised," continued Montague, "in gold and silver, which will be ready -to be packed up and taken to Flanders to-morrow." - -"How was this accomplished?" asked Devonshire. "I hardly thought, this -cruel year, they could do it." - -"Thank God they have," murmured Shrewsbury; "for if this had failed I -know not what we should have done." - -"Your Grace," answered Mr. Montague, "when I lent my support to this -Bank I did not think it was likely to be a failure. Yet I must confess -that I had some misgivings to-day when I entered the General -Court--there was my Lord Mayor in the chair, looking as gloomy as need -be, and six hundred or more of the company, all thrifty merchants. Sir -John got up and read the speech composed by the Directors and sat down -again in none too easy a frame of mind, it seemed, and a great hum went -up from the subscribers, and you might see them turning to each other -and whispering, but making no kind of public response; then up sprang -Sir John again, and implored them stand by the King--at which one rose -and said, 'We desire nothing more than to oblige His Majesty, but it is -a hard thing to ask for gold these times, and our notes of hand should -be good enough.' 'Nothing but gold is any use to His Majesty in -Flanders,' declared Sir John. 'I am asking you for this sacrifice for -nothing less than the preservation of the kingdoms, otherwise I could -not in conscience do it.' At last, after some murmuring, it was put to -the vote, and all held up their hands for sending the money, and Sir -John came to me all in a tremble, and hoped I would remember that the -Bank had saved the Government--he said it had been as anxious an hour as -he was ever like to have in his life. At hearing the resolution of the -Bank, several gentlemen, who had been waiting without, came in to buy -shares, and several thousand pounds' worth were subscribed before I -left." - -At the conclusion of this speech Mr. Montague looked round his company -with an air of conscious satisfaction. Portland had gone to write this -news off to the King, caring indeed for nothing but the sheer fact that -he could return to Attere immediately with the money, but the others, -including even the feeble, disgraced Leeds, had listened with eager -interest. - -"Well done," cried Lady Orkney. "Mr. Montague, you are a miracle of -wit--and I am going to follow the example of these same gentlemen and -purchase stock in this Bank of yours." - -"So am I," declared Devonshire. "I will send my agent down there -to-night, sir, the service it hath done cannot be overestimated." - -In a breath every Minister in the room had promised to show the same -instance of attachment to the institution that had saved the Government, -and when the energetic young Chancellor left Whitehall the -congratulations of the whole Council of Regency were ringing in his -ears. - -He entered his smart coach and drove straight to the Mint, where men -were working day and night at the milled money which he and his friend -Mr. Newton were turning out at the rate of a hundred and twenty thousand -a week. Fifteen thousand was the highest amount the former master of -the Mint had declared it was possible to produce in that time, but Mr. -Newton had done the incredible in reforming the Mint. It was to his -apartments Charles Montague went now, twirling his cane and fluttering -his laces. - -The Warden of His Majesty's Mint and Exchanges and Professor of -Mathematics at Cambridge was a gentleman a little past middle life, of a -very refined aristocratic appearance, with an air of extraordinary calm -and stillness. - -He wore a murrey-coloured coat, a small grey peruke, and a little brooch -of rubies in a plain lace cravat. When Mr. Montague entered he was -seated at a table covered with a multitude of papers. He looked up -instantly; his delicate features expressed a very winning composed -dignity. - -"I wished to speak to you about the new Mint at Chester, Mr. Newton," -said the Chancellor; his manner was totally different from that he had -used to the Ministers at Whitehall. - -"Another Mint, yes, Mr. Montague," answered the Warden, in the same -grave tone. "Those at York and Norwich have been very popular, but I -fear we have not enough trained men to spare yet--though I am having -them taught as fast as may be." - -"I want more than will suffice for Chester," said the Chancellor -briskly. "I thought of York and Exeter as likely stations." - -He seated himself by the window and looked out on the pleasant prospect -of the sunny river and glistening roofs. - -"The people take it very well," he added. "One could not have hoped to -pass through the crisis better; there is a good temper and a good sense -shown very gratifying." - -"Why, yes," said Mr. Newton; "but one may always look for both from the -English." - -A servant entered with a letter, which he glanced at and laid down with -a gentle little sound of displeasure. - -"What is that?" asked Mr. Montague. - -"Oh, 'tis from Flamsteed; he is ever dunning me to go see his -observatory at Greenwich--he cannot believe that there is anything in -the world more important than stars, nor that I do not love to be teased -with mathematical things when I am about the King's business." - -Mr. Montague glanced at the astronomer's sealed letter. - -"Speaking of the King's business," he remarked, "the Bank of England -hath promised to advance the two hundred thousand for the troops in -Flanders." - -Mr. Newton looked up quickly. - -"Why, I am glad of that. Sir, this is a great thing--it will greatly -raise the credit of the Bank." - -"I think," replied the young Chancellor, "without vanity, that the Bank -of England is an institution that will live." - - - - - CHAPTER VIII - - THE BREAKING FRIENDSHIP - - -Two men were riding side by side through the forest of Soignies; before -and behind them was a great army. It was a May night, with the moon -full overhead and casting long shadows from the tall, dark, motionless -trees. News had been received at the camp the evening before that the -French were threatening Brussels, and the confederate army was marching -to save the Capital. - -These two men who rode in the centre were alone, though part of such an -immense force; for the Dutch guards, who marched before and behind them -were several yards distant; they were both wrapped in long military -cloaks. One, who was the King-Stadtholder, the commander of the allies, -was mounted on a white horse; the other, William Bentinck, Earl of -Portland, rode a great brown steed. The King was speaking very -earnestly, in a lowered voice suited to the hush of the warm night and -the solemnity of the long denies they traversed. - -"I must tell you of the dispatch I received from my Lord Devonshire. I -had scarcely received it before we broke camp, or I had told you before. -This John Fenwick, the Jacobite, hath made a cunning confession, -designed to put the Government into a confusion. He accuseth Godolphin, -Shrewsbury, Marlborough, and Russell of being deep with St. Germains." - -Portland made no answer. - -"It was," continued the King, "no news to me, as you know." - -"What have you done?" asked the Earl. - -"I have done nothing yet. I shall write to Devonshire ordering the -trial of this Fenwick to proceed." - -"And for these lords?" - -"I shall affect to disbelieve this evidence," answered William. "And -Shrewsbury, at least, I shall assure of my trust." - -"And so traitors flourish!" - -There was silence for awhile, only broken by the jingle of the harness, -the fall of the horses' feet, and the tramp of the army before and -behind. The faces of the two men were hidden from each other; they -could only discern outline of horse and figure as the moonlight fell -between the elms and oaks. - -The King spoke again. - -"I have learnt to be tolerant of treason. These men serve me--even -Marlborough--instruments all of them! And Shrewsbury I ever liked. I -will not have him put out for this." - -"You will even let them remain in office?" - -"Surely," answered the King, "it would be beneath me to stoop to -vengeance? And what else would this be? Both policy and kindness -dictate to me this course." - -Portland's voice came heavily out of the morning shadows. - -"You are too lenient to every sort of fault. These men do not even know -you spare them--they think you are fooled. Marlborough will laugh at -you." - -"What doth that matter if he serveth my turn? He is a villain, but a -great man--he should be useful to England." - -The King spoke in strained, weary accents, and with, it seemed, but -little interest. - -"Besides," he added, "I do not believe half of what Fenwick saith." - -Portland retorted sharply. - -"You did not believe the assassination plot itself until I produced -Prendergrass, who had heard them discuss who was to fire the bullet on -Turnham Green." - -The King answered simply-- - -"One becometh so well used to these attempts, I should have been dead -ten times if assassins could have done it. That was not the way -ordained." - -"I hope," said Portland dryly, "that your clemency will be rewarded. I, -for one, could well wish to see these traitors come to their -punishment--yea, and such men as Sunderland----" - -William interrupted. - -"I hope they will leave me Sunderland--I could ill do without him. But -I hear he is likely to be pressed hard in the Commons." - -"I cannot wonder," returned Portland, "but only at you who continue to -employ such a man." - -The King did not answer at once. The moon was sinking and taking on a -yellow colour, the shadows were fainter and blended one with another, -the trunks, branches, and clustering leaves of the great trees began to -show dimly against a paling sky; there was a deep stir of freshness in -the still air, the perfume of grass, bracken, and late violets. The -steady, unbroken tramp of the great army seemed to grow louder with the -first lifting of the night; the men, in ranks of not more than four, -could be seen defiling through the yet dark forest. - -The King spoke, looking ahead of him. - -"Of late I can do nothing to please you," he said in a whisper. "It is -not pleasant to me to have this growing coldness." - -"Your Majesty hath other friends," answered Portland bitterly. - -"You are unreasonable," said the King, in the same sad, broken voice. -"I cannot withdraw my favour from M. van Keppel--justice and dignity -forbid it. You should understand that, William. I also might have my -complaints; it is not easy for me to keep the peace between you and M. -van Keppel. Your constant quarrels make my household in a perpetual -tumult--and, I must say it, it is not M. van Keppel who is generally the -aggressor." - -"His presence is an offence," declared Portland hotly; "a creature of my -Lord Sunderland, a flattering, smooth-tongued boy--a dissolute rake who -hath done nothing for your service!" - -The King turned his face towards his friend. - -"It cuts me to the heart," he said, with great emotion, "that you should -dream--for one second--that he could make me ever forget or undervalue -all the services I owe to you. Nothing could alter my affection for you; -it is my great grief that you should not feel that as I do." - -"You have changed," was all Portland said. - -The King lifted his eyes to the sky showing between the trees they rode -past, his haggard face was faintly visible in the increasing light. - -"Yes, I have changed," he said slowly. "Perhaps even you cannot guess -how much. I could not convey to you how utterly indifferent all the -world is to me save only my hope to a little more complete the task God -put upon me. Your friendship is all that is left to me. Nothing hath -been real since--she--died. I only act and think and go through my days -because I believe she would have wished it. I only do this and that -because I think--she would have done it. I only keep on because she -wished that, even at the last. I only endure to live because I dare to -hope she may be somewhere--waiting----" - -His voice sank so low as to be almost incoherent; Portland could -scarcely catch the words. They came to a little hollow beside the path -that was filled with spring flowers opening to the dawn, daisies and -lilies and tufts of fresh green. - -The King spoke again. - -"For the rest, all is dead--here," he lightly touched his heart. "You -alone have the power to hurt me, and you should use it tenderly." - -Portland had meant to resign his position in the King's household, so -intolerable had it become to him, but now restrained himself. - -"I will serve you till death," he said, with his air of cold, high -breeding. "Your Majesty must believe that of me." - -William gave a little sigh. - -"What of this Congress at Ryswick?" added Portland, "and your suggestion -that I should see M. de Boufflers?" - -He thought that it would be something of a compromise if he could still -continue to serve the King yet get away from the odious van Keppel. - -"They will never do anything at Ryswick," answered the King wearily. -"They fill their time with ceremonies and vexations, and this time a -hundred years might find them still arguing there. And I am resolute -for peace now as all my life I have been resolute for war. No need to -explain my policy to you. We shall never get better terms than France -offereth now, and they must not be lost through the intolerable -impertinences of Spain, who hath contributed nothing but rigmaroles to -the coalition from the first." - -"I think," said Portland, "I could get some satisfaction from M. de -Boufflers." - -The French Marechal had formed a friendship with Portland when he had -been his prisoner at Huy, after the fall of Namur, and it had recently -occurred to William to use this friendship to open negotiations between -England and France, regardless of the formal mummeries of the Congress, -which seemed to be likely to be as protracted as that held at Nymwegen -in '79. - -It was William's object to discover if Louis was in earnest. The -listlessness of Spain, the ambition of the Emperor must bow if once -France, England, and Holland came to terms. What he proposed was daring -and unconstitutional. He had not informed a single English politician -of his plan, and Portland, whom he thought to employ, was not even an -Englishman, but William was never stopped by any fear of responsibility. -If he could accomplish an honourable peace (the very best he could -obtain he knew would be only a breathing space, for there was the -tremendous question of the Spanish Succession ahead), he cared nothing -for the temper of the English parliament or the complaints of the -allies, and in the United Provinces he was practically absolute. He had -before suggested to Portland that he should write and open negotiations -with Boufflers, and had mentioned Hal, midway between Brussels and Mons, -as a likely place for an interview. He now, on Portland's words, -reverted to this and discussed the details of the scheme that was to -give peace to Europe in his weary, low, and strained voice, broken by -constant coughs. - -The forest of Soignies began to break; the trees became thinner and were -scattered to right and left like echelons of soldiers, the whole heaven -was clear of cloud, and the sun, just rising above the plains of -Brabant, filled the air with a steady colour of pearl-blue. - -A little wind touched the trees, then was silent; the constant noise of -birds accompanied the tramp of the heavy infantry and the distant, -unequal rumble of the gun carriages and baggage waggons. - -The King loosened his cloak, cast it over his holster, and looked back -at the army following him through the wood. - -"If we sign peace this year this will be my last campaign," he remarked. - -Portland looked at him quickly. - -"The Spanish question--there will be war there--and before long." - -"But I have so few years to live," answered the King simply; "for with -this peace my work would be done. No, I think I shall never lead an -army across the Netherlands again." - -They rode clear of the trees now, and saw before them the beautiful -valley soft and veiled in the mists of morning. - -The King fixed his eyes on the spot where Brussels lay. If Villeroy had -outmarched him and was bombarding the capital as he had bombarded it -last year, the allies had been checkmated and there would be little hope -for the prospects of peace. - -Scouts were sent out to ascertain the movements of the enemy; no sign of -their fires could be discerned. William thought that his activity had -saved Brussels and that there were no fears from Villeroy. He pushed -on, and, by ten in the morning, after having ridden fifteen hours, -reached the still unmolested ramparts of the capital from which the -Spanish flag was yet flying. - -He instantly took up his position before the walls and proceeded to -strongly entrench himself on the very spot from which Villeroy had -dropped his shells into Brussels near a year ago when the allies were -before Namur. - -It appeared that he had saved the magnificent city by a few hours; -before midday the French came up, but, finding the confederate army -already so strongly fortified, fell back across Brabant without firing a -shot. - -The King, as he rode about surveying the encampment, sent for Portland. - -The Earl came, and the two men looked at each other steadily; the hasty -earthworks, the rising canvas, the sights and sounds of the camp were -about them, overhead the blazing blue faintly hazed with clouds of heat. - -William held out his thin, bare right hand. - -"Since I think you are resolute to leave me," he said, "I would have you -go to Hal to meet M. de Boufflers." He added with great sweetness, "I -put the fate of Europe in your hands, and could put it in none more -worthy." - - - - - CHAPTER IX - - PEACE - - -The Earl of Sunderiand was again as great as he had been when he held -James Stewart infatuate in his power, and as well hated throughout the -country as then. The King had long consulted him in private, and now he -was recognized as principal adviser to the Crown, and carried the gold -key that was the symbol of the office of Lord Chamberlain. - -He had no rival. Halifax was dead; Leeds a mere shadow; his intrigues -had brought about the resignation of Godolphin, who had been implicated -in the disclosures of Sir John Fenwick; Shrewsbury, stricken with -remorse at his own treachery and the King's generosity, was but a figure -in the background; and the other ministers, even such as Romney, who was -William's personal friend, had little influence; Portland's power was -not what it had been, and his rival, M. van Keppel, largely owed his -fortunes to Sunderiand. The Lord Chamberlain was supreme in this year -1697, the year of the peace framed by Portland and Boufflers in the -orchard at Huy and signed by the Congress at the King's palace of -Ryswick. - -This peace was an honourable close to an honourable conflict. Louis -recognised William as King of England, and granted most of the terms -desired by the allies, not one of whom complained that they had been -forgotten or slighted by the King in the framing of the articles. The -delay of Spain and the Emperor to sign, despite William's entreaties, -had resulted in the fall of Barcelona and Louis' consequent rise of -terms, the principal of which was the retention of Strassburg--a severe -blow to Austria. But, on the whole, the peace was favourable to the -coalition, and in England and Holland at least was received with -unbounded rejoicing. William's return from the Continent was the signal -for a display of loyalty as enthusiastic as that which had greeted the -exiled Charles in '66. - -William, to whose diplomacy the peace was owing, as the war had been -owing to his indomitable energy, was at the very zenith of his -reputation at home and abroad. He avoided the pageants, processions, -triumphal arches, and general laudations, both from a natural modesty -and a cynical perception of their hollowness, which was but too well -justified, for the first act of the Parliament was to inflict cruel -mortification on him by disbanding, at the instance of the Tory -agitator, Robert Harley, the army which had done such magnificent -service. Sunderland's utmost arts could only retain ten thousand men, -including the King's beloved Dutch Guards. - -This action was, to William, the worst of policy, besides a personal -slight that he could not but feel that he had ill deserved. The peace -was to him but an armed truce before the inevitable struggle for the -Spanish possessions, and the part that he was to play in that struggle -was considerably weakened by the disbanding of the troops which made -England, save for her Navy, powerless again in Europe. - -The English Parliament, profoundly ignorant of continental affairs, and -not in the least understanding the spacious policy of the King, thought -only of the power a standing army put in the hands of the Crown, and -were not to be moved from their resolve. - -William, driven back, as he had so often been, on his own innate -statesmanship, endeavoured to accomplish by wit what he was now -powerless to accomplish by arms, and secretly framed with Louis the -Partition Treaty, by which the vast dominions of the imbecile and dying -King of Spain were to be divided between Louis' grandson Phillippe -d'Anjou, and William's candidate, the infant son of the Elector of -Bavaria, who derived his claim through his dead mother, Maria Antonia. - -The King had disdained to consult the English ministers until he had -completed this treaty, and then only curtly demanded the necessary -signatures; from the nation it was a profound secret. - -Sunderland disapproved of this daring policy of the King's. He thought -that many of the domestic troubles of the reign might have been avoided -if William had been less resolute to keep foreign affairs entirely in -his own hands, but the King's well-founded distrust of the levity, -treachery, and ignorance of the English, and their personal malice -towards him as a foreigner, could not be moved by the most specious of -Sunderland's arguments. William refused to put any faith in the crowds -who shouted after his coach, in the ringing and the toasts, in the bales -of loyal addresses that were laid daily at his feet. He knew perfectly -well that at bottom he was neither understood nor liked, and that all -this rejoicing was not for the King, but because a peace, pleasing to -English pride, had been signed; because bank stock had risen from sixty -to ninety, paper money to par, the guinea from eighteen shillings to -twenty-one; because the new milled coins were in every hand and an era -of prosperity was following the crisis of '96. - -Sunderland watched all these things with some misgiving. Under all his -honours and greatness was a lurking uneasiness. He began to lose his -courage at being so hated; hints of impeachment had risen in the House -more than once; he could scarcely show his face abroad without a burst -of popular fury. In the opinion of the people he should not have been -intrusted with one of the highest offices under the Crown, but have been -starving in exile, or dead, long since in the Tower, as his colleague -under James--Lord Jefferies. The ministers, too, could ill disguise -their dislike of him. He had befriended the Whigs, and they owed him a -cold allegiance, but he had no real supporter save the King, whose will -alone kept him where he was; and he had more enemies than he could -count, including Portland, who hated him exceedingly. - -When the King had created Joost van Keppel Earl of Albemarle, Portland -had offered to resign his post and retire, and only by the intercession -of M. de Vaudemont and the passionate entreaties of his one flatterer, -the King, had he been induced to stay another year, which was employed -in the gorgeous embassy to France from which he had just returned, to -find Sunderland all-powerful and Albemarle in full possession of the -King's confidence. - -Sunderland saw that his temper was strained to the utmost, and that -affairs in the King's household must soon reach a crisis. Although he -used Albemarle as a balance against a man who hated him, Sunderland had -no ill-will towards Portland, and wished to spare the King the agony he -knew he would feel on the earl's retirement. He would have wished -Shrewsbury to stay too--the King liked the young duke--but here, as in -Portland's case, Sunderland felt matters had gone too far. - -He was waiting now, in the King's gallery at Kensington, to intercept -and argue with Shrewsbury, whom he knew was about to have an interview -with William, and with the object, he suspected, of insisting on his -often refused resignation. - -He came at last, after his time and slowly, with a languid carriage and -an unsteady step that expressed great wretchedness. Sunderland moved out -of the embrasure of the window; Shrewsbury paused; and the two noblemen, -alike only in birth and country, so totally different in character, -intellect, and aim, yet both in the same service, faced one another. - -Shrewsbury looked ill, miserable, even slightly dishevelled, his dark -clothes were careless and plain, the beauty that had once made him -famous as "The King of Hearts" was scarcely to be traced in his strained -features, though he was not yet past his first youth. In contrast, -Sunderland, though worn and frail, looked less than his years, and was -habited very fashionably and gorgeously in black tissue of gold with -diamond buttons, his peruke was frizzled and powdered, and he wore a bow -of black velvet beneath his chin; his handsome, delicate features wore -that expression of watchful, smiling repose which was so seldom from his -face that it had come to be one with it, as the faint chiselling on an -alabaster bust. - -Shrewsbury showed some agitated emotion as the Lord Chamberlain stepped -before him. - -"I am due with His Majesty," he said. - -"I know," answered the earl; "and I think I guess your business with the -King." - -Shrewsbury paled and said nothing; a defiant look hardened his eyes. - -"You," continued the Lord Chamberlain, "are going, my lord, to force -your resignation on His Majesty." - -"Well--if I am?" Shrewsbury moistened his lips desperately. - -"It is, your Grace, a most ill-advised thing to do." - -"I have heard many people say that, my lord," answered the young duke, -"and I have allowed myself to be too long persuaded. I cannot and I -will not stay at Court." - -Sunderland gazed at him steadily out of his long, clear eyes. - -"You only give colour to the disclosures of Sir John Fenwick, which -every one disbelieved. And no one more strongly than His Majesty." - -"I bear the taint--the imputation," muttered Shrewsbury. "I cannot and -will not endure it. My position is insupportable." - -"Marlborough and Russell are in the same position, and find it easy -enough to bear," said Sunderland quietly. - -The Duke answered with some pride-- - -"I am not such as they. They act from their standards--I from mine." - -He thought, and might have added, that he was not such as the man to -whom he spoke. Sunderland was stained with treacheries, disloyalties, -corrupt practices, and shameless false-dealing, the very least of which -were more than the one lapse that was wearing Shrewsbury to misery with -remorse. - -The Earl took another tone. - -"Think of the King. You call yourself friend to him; he is as harrassed -now as he ever was before the war. He hath not too many men to help -him--the Tories grow in strength every day. You have been of great -service to His Majesty--the greatest in '88. Will you forsake him -now--when he needeth you most?" - -Shrewsbury put out a trembling hand. - -"I have heard these arguments before. Lady Orkney hath been soliciting -me to change my resolution--for the same reason that you bring forth. -But I am a broken man; I am ill; I must get to the country; I cannot -serve His Majesty----" - -So speaking, in rapid, disconnected sentences, he gave a wild glance at -the Earl's passive face, the fine lines of which had taken on an almost -imperceptible expression of contempt and disgust, and passed on to the -King's cabinet, which he entered abruptly. - -The King was, as usual, at his desk, which was placed between the tall -windows which looked on to the beautiful park, now grey and desolate -under the afternoon sky of mid-November. - -A great fire burnt on the hearth, and the glancing light from it threw -into relief the furnishing of the room, every article of which bore -evidence to the exile's wistful love of his own country. On the -mantelshelf were the tall yellow, white, and blue vases from Delft; the -brass fire-irons were Dutch, as were the painted tiles, the black, -heavily polished chairs and tables; the exquisite paintings of peaches, -carnations, grapes, and butterflies on the wall; and the elaborate china -calendar above the King's desk. William was always consistently loyal to -the products of his own land; his full cravat, shirt, and wrist-ruffles -were now, as generally, of the fine Frisian lawn embroidery, and the -buttons of his black silk coat were of the wonderful filigree gold-work -for which the States were famous. - -He looked up sharply as Shrewsbury entered, and seemed a little -disappointed, as if he had been expecting some one else; but instantly -commanded himself, and greeted the Duke affectionately. - -Shrewsbury looked at him wretchedly, crossed to the hearth irresolutely, -then burst out impetuously-- - -"Sire--I must resign--I can take your wage no longer----" - -The King's full bright eyes swept over him in a quick glance of -understanding. - -"I have told you," he said, with a gentleness that had a note of pity in -it, "that I hold you innocent of those scandalous slanders that villain -Fenwick flung. I have assured you, my lord, of my affection, of my need -and wish for your service." - -Shrewsbury bit his lower lip, and stared blindly into the scarlet heart -of the fire. - -"My health will not permit me----" he began. - -"Ah, tush!" interrupted the King, with a little smile. "Your health is -good enough." - -Compared to his own, it was indeed. Shrewsbury could not, for very -shame, argue that plea. - -"I think you have another reason, your Grace," added William, kindly and -a little sadly. "And I am an old enough friend for you to confide in -me----" - -Still the Duke could not speak, but trembled and looked into the fire. - -"You are a man of honour," said the King. "I have and do trust you. I -shall never forget the services you rendered me, when such services were -vital indeed; I believe I do not lack gratitude; I should never--I -_could_ never--desert a friend." - -He exerted himself to speak with courtesy and animation, and there was -real feeling behind his words; gratitude was indeed almost a fault with -him. Cold as he appeared to outsiders, nothing could turn him when he -had once given his affection; he had often, at the expense of his own -interests and popularity, defended and upheld his friends. - -Shrewsbury clasped the edge of the chimneypiece and tried to speak, but -made only some incoherent sound. - -"Let me hear no more of resignation, my lord," said William. - -The Duke turned and looked at him desperately, then suddenly and utterly -broke down. - -"I am guilty, sire!" he cried. "I betrayed you, and you know it!" - -He fell into the chair beside him, and covered his white face with his -quivering hands. - -"Your generosity is more than I can endure," he gasped. "I have been a -villain, and I have a bitter punishment!" - -The King rose and looked at his minister. A heavy silence hung in the -brilliantly firelit little chamber. The Duke was sobbing wretchedly. - -William went slightly pale. - -"Fenwick spoke the truth," cried Shrewsbury; "I have tampered with St. -Germains----" - -The King crossed over to the young man, and laid his thin, beautiful -hand on the bowed shoulders. - -"You are my friend," he said simply. "I trust you and wish to keep you -with me. Nothing else, my dear lord, is of any matter." - -Shrewsbury's answer came hoarsely. - -"It is of great matter to me that I have lost my honour----" - -The King answered gently. - -"While you say that, my lord Duke, you can have lost nothing----" - -Shrewsbury would not speak or look up. William returned to his seat at -the desk, and began turning over the papers before him. After a few -minutes he said, with his eyes still on his letters-- - -"I have heard nothing--I know nothing--I trust you to continue in my -service, my dear lord----" - -The Duke sprang up and stood with his back to the fire. - -"I cannot--I am not fit," he said desperately, yet with resolution. - -William flashed a glance over his shoulder. - -"Will you not serve England, then?" he cried, with a deep note in his -voice, and waited for the answer, gazing brilliantly at the haggard -young man. - -"No--no," muttered Shrewsbury. "I am broken--I am not fit----" - -There was a little silence. It was the King who spoke first. - -"I can say no more," he said quietly. "You have decided. I trust that -you will justify your resolution to yourself." - -The Duke came heavily to the desk, laid the seals that were the symbol -of his office on the desk, and was turning silently away, when the King -held out his hand impulsively. - -"My lord," he said, with much warmth and kindness, "even if I should -never see you again--I should never forget '88." - -Shrewsbury seized the frail hand, kissed it with tears, and went -violently from the room. - -William gave a little sigh, pushed back his chair, and put his hand to -his head, coughing. - -He was not long alone. Sunderland entered the little cabinet with his -cautious light step and an expression that had a little lost its usual -composure. - -"The little Duke hath resigned," said the King laconically. - -A rare ejaculation of impatience and contempt broke from the Lord -Chamberlain. "Every one falleth away!" he exclaimed. "There goeth the -last link with the Whigs!" - -William gave a short laugh. - -"I suppose that you will be the next, my lord?" he said shrewdly. - -The Earl went rather pale. - -"I will hold office as long as I can, Your Majesty," he answered. "But -it is a hard thing to maintain my position in the face of all England. -But whether I am in office or no, I shall, sir, always serve you." - -The King lifted his dark eyes. - -"I believe you will, my lord," he said simply; "we are old allies now. -Well--we have not either of us much more to do--the people have their -peace, and we have our positions, and may grow roses, and build villas, -and wait for death." - - - - - CHAPTER X - - THE BROKEN FRIENDSHIP - - -The Earl of Portland, newly returned from his gorgeous embassy to -France, sat in his apartments at Kensington reading and re-reading a -letter. - -It was written in a large and flowing hand, unequal in parts, as if the -writer had been greatly agitated. The contents, which the Earl had now -almost by heart, were strange and sad. - - -"KENSINGTON, _April_ 1699. - -"Since I cannot dispute with you, I will say nothing to you on the -subject of your retirement; but I cannot refrain from telling you of my -extreme sorrow, which is far deeper than you can ever imagine, and -assures me that if you felt even the half you would very quickly change -your resolution--which may it please the good God to inspire you to do -for your own good and my repose. At least I hope that you will not -refuse to keep the key of office, for I am content that it should not -oblige you to anything, and, besides, I entreat you to let me see you as -often as you can, which would be a great consolation to me in the -affliction which you have caused me, which cannot prevent me from loving -you ever tenderly." - - -It was written in French and signed with the letter 'G,' which had -always been affixed to this long, intimate correspondence which had -continued now for thirty-three years--since they had been -children--continued through war and peace, trouble, disaster, illness, -bereavement, disappointment without cloud or shadow--and this was the -end. - -William Bentinck had resolved to resign the King's service. - -This was the end--in miserable, trivial jealousy. The friendship that -had lasted so long, keen and pure, so devoted, had strained and broken. -Portland sat, with this sad appeal in his hand, and knew that it was -over. - -He did not acknowledge that he was unreasonable; he had served William -faithfully and devotedly, both as friend and servant, and he had been -greatly rewarded; he was one of the wealthiest subjects in Europe; he -had an English earldom, and the Garter that foreign kings envied; he was -Gentleman of the Bedchamber, Privy Councillor, Groom of the Stole, and -Keeper of the King's Gardens; the King had supported him again and again -against the Commons, taken his advice, flattered him by an open display -of his friendship, entrusted him with the important embassy to France, -enriched his son, and, when the breach began to grow, spared nothing to -heal it. Few kings could have ever entreated a subject as William had -entreated Bentinck. - -But he would not dismiss Albemarle; he listened to Sunderland; and -everything was nothing to Portland compared to the fact that he should -have to share the King's confidence with this young, untried, -light-hearted young man. - -When he returned from Paris he had found Albemarle in possession of -rooms in the Palace that he considered belonged to him in virtue of one -of his offices, and the little incident had confirmed his resolution of -quitting the Court. He would be second to no one, least of all to a man -whom he considered as the tool of a faction that he loathed and -despised. - -He was well aware that Albemarle was popular, and that he was not; that -he had few supporters in his point of view, and that Albemarle had a -great following gained by his universal sweetness, good sense, and -humility. - -He was well aware, too, that the King had never more needed his -friendship than now; for the present session of Parliament had inflicted -one cruel humiliation on him, and was about to inflict another. - -The King's grants of lands in Ireland had been looked into and -revoked--even such as he had given to the noble Ginckel, who had done -such service, and Meinhard de Schomberg, son of the soldier who had died -for England on the banks of Boyne Water. - -William, who had disappointed his enemies by preserving a serene -composure when he had been forced to consent to the disbanding of the -troops, had scarcely been able to conceal his mortification at this -malice on the part of the Tories, and was still further moved by the -agitation rising in the Commons to turn all foreign soldiers out of the -kingdom, including the famous Dutch Guards and the refugee French -Huguenots whom William had long had in his service. - -But none of this shook William Bentinck's stern resolution to leave the -Court. - -He folded the letter, put it into his pocket, glanced at the brass -bracket-clock in one corner of the room, and went, for the last time, to -accompany the King on his way to the Cabinet meeting at Whitehall, which -William had summoned with the desperate intention of urging his -ministers to try some expedient with the Parliament to enable him to -keep the Dutch Guards. - -Portland descended heavily into the courtyard where the coaches waited. - -It was a sunny afternoon, and half the soft-coloured brick of the Palace -was in a tender light. Some pigeons were gathered round the clock, -which was on the point of striking four. - -Monsieur Zulestein was there, Sunderland, Devonshire, and Monsieur -Auverquerque. Portland kept apart from all of them, and drew the point -of his cane up and down the cobbles; his eyes were fixed on the door -which led to the staircase to the King's apartments. - -As the clock struck the hour William appeared in this doorway, and -paused at the head of the steps and looked round the courtyard with -narrowed eyes. - -He wore black and a star, his hollow cheeks were flushed--unusual for -him--and he was breathing with obvious difficulty. - -He saw Portland, and his whole face changed; he smiled, and his eyes -widened with an indescribable look. - -Portland met that glance, and a quick pang gripped his heart; he -remembered days of long ago, in camp and cabinet, a frail young man -facing the French outside Utrecht, speaking to the Senate at The Hague, -firing the people, encouraging a fainting country, leading the mad -charge at St. Nelf, fainting over his work during tedious days and -nights.... - -Portland made a step forward; then he saw, behind the King, the ardent, -youthful face of my Lord Albemarle, and he fell back. - -William slowly descended the steps. The lackeys opened the coach door, -and the gentleman came round. - -The King looked to Portland, who still stood apart. - -"Will you accompany me, my lord?" he said gently. - -The seat in his coach was an honour to which his brother-in-law, Prince -George, had aspired in vain. Of late Portland had frequently refused -it, and in terms so curt as to excite the horror of those who heard. -Now the King was making a last appeal--his brilliant eyes, his moved -voice were reminding William Bentinck of his letter and of the long -friendship which the 'G' that signed it was a symbol of. - -There fell the slightest pause; then Portland answered with a harshness -that would have been discourteous to an equal-- - -"I pray you excuse me. I keep my own company to-day." - -At this, which was little less than a public insult, the King flushed a -dark red, and those about him knew not where to look. - -"My Lord Sunderland," commanded William, "you will accompany us." - -He entered the coach, the Lord Chamberlain followed, and Portland, very -white but unshaken, mounted his own vehicle. - -The Royal coach started. Sunderland said not a word and made not a -movement, but sat erect, opposite the King, as they drove out under the -early budding trees. - -William broke out into a sudden, deep passion. - -"Is this the Prince of Orange"--he cried, striking his breast--"who was -something in Europe? Is this he, the sport of such as Harley, and -insulted by those who loved him once?" - -"My lord must be out of his wits," replied Sunderland. "I could have -struck him." - -"This is too much--this is indeed the end," said the King. "He leaves -the Court. By God, I was Nassau once, if I am only King of England -now!" - -"He must still love Your Majesty----" urged the Lord Chamberlain. - -"Love!" echoed William. "Doth love inspire such cruelty?" His speech -was broken by a violent fit of coughing, which caused the tears to run -down his face. Sunderland looked at him in weary despair, and wondered -if he could survive his present griefs. - -"The Guards," gasped the King, leaning back in his corner--"I must keep -those Guards--and the French for whom I promised to provide--Ginckle and -Schomberg too----" His hoarse voice became incoherent, he pressed his -handkerchief to his lips and stared out at the groves of Kensington Park -with hunted eyes. - -"We will do all we may, sire," replied Sunderland; but he felt not half -the conviction he endeavoured to put into his voice. The party in power -now hated the King and hated the Dutch; they were not likely to be -merciful in their triumph. - -Sunderland could not understand this blind fury against the foreigner. -It might have been thought that two nations, both manly and given to a -plain religion, both engaged in trade and eager for liberty, could have -had much in common, especially when only divided by a strip of narrow -sea, and considering that there was no rancour of ancient dispute -between them. But at the bottom of each was a fatal difference--a -levity, an extravagance, and a narrow arrogance in the English; a -prudence, a seriousness, a reserve in the Dutch--that prevented any real -friendliness despite the specious complexion of a common cause, and had -been gradually fanned by jealousy and party spirit into an obstinate -temper, against which the arts of Sunderland were of no avail. - -"They must not go," repeated the King in great agitation; "if they do, I -go with them--I have told Somers so. I am a foreigner also." He -paused; then added, with intense feeling, "I have been too great to -become the pensioner of a handful of commoners, the butt of your Harleys -and Jack Howes.... I will not take this humiliation." - -"Your Majesty must think of the United Provinces," said Sunderland. "If -you were to resign the crown, what of the English alliance?" - -This simple question had more weight with William than all the -protestations of Lord Somers. He went very pale, and half closed his -eyes. In the inevitable, in the nearing contention over the Spanish -succession, the dear bought alliance of England would be more necessary -than ever to the Republic; but the King's imperious pride, so long -controlled, outweighed almost his deep love of his country. - -"Let Anne and Maryborough rule you," he said, in a low, passionate -voice. "A fool and a villain would maybe please you better. If my -soldiers go I cannot in honour stay." - -"You must, sire," answered Sunderland. He looked out of the coach -window at the white, dusty sweep of Kensington High Street, the cottages -with the early flowers before them and the orchard trees covered with -their first green. "Your Majesty must remain," repeated Sunderland -heavily. "England needeth you." - -William gave a cynical laugh. - -"England hath had some work out of me--I have laboured for my pay. I am -not a young man now, and old for my years. I should wish to die in -Holland." - -The Earl looked quickly at his master. - -"Sire, you must not speak of death." - -"I am a dying man," said the King quietly. "A few months--no more, I -think." - -Sunderland could not gainsay him. In his own heart he felt a curious -chill of apathy, as if it was nearing the end; the very sunshine -without, falling so placidly on thatch and flowering tree, looked -strangely remote. It seemed a long time to Robert Spencer since he had -been at leisure to notice the mysterious light of spring. He laughed -also, but with a softer note than the King had used. - -"Rest is good after labour," he said irrelevantly. - -William was also looking out of the window at fields and clouds. - -"God alone knoweth if I am damned or saved," he remarked strongly; "but -I have done His will as it was revealed to me." - -Sunderland glanced at the Calvinist, who in those words had declared his -religion. His own creeds were very different; but both men, now at the -end, found themselves on much the same level. - -Neither spoke again till they reached the courtyard of Whitehall, when -the King remarked, with an air of disgust, on the fog of smoke that -overhung the city. - -As he dismounted from the coach he paused and glanced round the -gentlemen; for the first time in his life he ignored my Lord Portland, -but, with a delicacy that Sunderland was quick to notice, he equally -ignored Albemarle, and passed into the palace leaning on the arm of -Monsieur de Zulestein. - - - - - CHAPTER XI - - THE KING'S HUMILIATION - - -Everything had been in vain. Harley pressed his narrow triumph, and the -King, after a bitter struggle, consented to let the Dutch soldiers go -and to retain the kingship, though he had drawn up a passionate farewell -speech to the ungrateful parliament, and shown it to Somers, Sunderland, -and Marlborough, now the governor of the little Duke of Gloucester, the -heir to the throne. - -It was my Lord Chamberlain, fast feeling himself falling before the -wolves of faction, who urged the King to sacrifice even this to those -great designs to which he had given his life--it was Sunderland who put -the needs of Republic before him as he had after the Queen's death; and -William had again responded, even out of the depths of agony. - -But as the day approached for the departure of those Guards who had been -with him since he had first marched out of The Hague against the French, -whom he had led again and again in battle, who kept watch every night -while he slept, who were devoted to him--not as the King of England, but -as William of Orange--as the time drew near for him to say farewell to -his friend de Ginckle and Monsieur de Schomberg, as he received daily -the petitions of the poor French who had fought for him loyally, and to -whom he had promised his protection, his spirit gave way. He made the -last sacrifice of his pride, and he who had dealt haughtily with kings -wrote a request in his own hand humbly asking the Parliament, as a -personal favour to himself, to allow him to retain the Dutch Guards. - -He sent the message down to the House by Lord Ranelagh, his Master of -the Horse; and now, in his little cabinet at Kensington that had seen so -many vigils of toil and sorrow, awaited the answer of the Commons. - -Before him lay the draft of the message he had sent-- - -"His Majesty is pleased to let the House know that the necessary -preparations are made for transporting the Guards who came with him into -England, unless, out of consideration to him, the House is disposed to -find some way of continuing them longer in his service, which His -Majesty would take very kindly." - -To this humility had William of Orange stooped; beneath this paper was -another, half hidden by it--the farewell speech he had drawn up. His -own words flashed up at him in his own impetuous handwriting: "Feeling -that you have so little regard to my advice, that you take no manner of -care of your own security, and that you expose yourselves to evident -ruin by divesting yourselves of the only means of defence, it would not -be just or reasonable that I should be witness of your ruin." - -If he could but go down to the House and cast that at them--leave -England, and die peacefully in Holland! - -But Sunderland was right; he must endure even this for the sake of the -Republic--and surely, even such as Harley could not refuse his personal -appeal. - -In his agitation and impatience he began pacing up and down the narrow -room. He was in wretched health; night after night he could not sleep -for grief and mortification; his headaches, his fainting-fits were -frequent and terrible; even this gentle walking to and fro soon -exhausted him; he sank into the window-seat coughing and holding his -side, where his heart was beating with a dragging pain. - -Soon inaction became intolerable; he rose, nearly struck the bell to -summon M. Zulestein or M. Auverquerque, hesitated, did not, left the -cabinet and his own apartments, and came out into the sunny quiet -galleries of the palace. - -Deep in thought, he walked slowly, with bent head and his hands clasped -behind him under the full skirts of his brocade coat, when a sudden -sound of voices caused him to look up. - -He was in the empty antechamber leading to the King's gallery, the door -of which was half open; it was from behind it that the voices came; one -of them, very clear, serene, and beautiful in tone, was speaking as the -King paused; the words came very levelly and distinctly-- - -"He actually asked it as a favour, you say? And of course they will -refuse. I should have thought that the little upstart would have known -by now that we ain't to be lorded by foreigners." - -The King stepped back with an instinctive shock, as if he had put his -foot on a sword. He knew the voice to be that of the man whom he most -despised and loathed--John Churchill, my Lord of Marlborough. Though he -was very well aware how he was traduced, lampooned, slandered, and -abused behind his back, he had never heard himself referred to in these -cool terms of contempt; though he knew these things were said, he had -never actually figured what it would be to overhear them. - -The blood rushed to his heart and lay there like a weight. He was of a -family that had given an Emperor to the West five hundred years ago, and -John Churchill was scarce of gentle blood and had climbed on infamy. -The King's right hand crossed over to his sword hilt. The beautiful, -insolent voice began again. William instantly pushed open the door and -entered the long gallery. - -At once silence fell. There were two men, Marlborough and Torrington, -near the first window, and a small, weary, anxious-eyed and -forlorn-looking child seated near them on a purple stool, making paper -boats. - -Torrington went scarlet at sight of the King, but Marlborough swept a -graceful bow, without the least change in his composure. William looked -at him steadily. He could have sent him to the block--not once, but -many times, yet he had spared him even the humiliation of a pardon in -affecting to ignore his treasons. It was curious to him to look at this -man--young, splendid in towering strength and opulent beauty, rich, -prosperous, advancing from power to power, infamous, heartless, -conscienceless, the man who would be ruling England very shortly now, -and in whose hands would rest the completion or the ruin of the task to -which he, the King, had given his life. - -Torrington, fearful lest William had overheard, made some stumbling -remark about their presence. The King seated himself on the window-seat -and coughed. - -"Ah yes, I forgot that I was to have a visit from His Highness," he -said. He looked languidly at the little Duke of Gloucester, Anne's sole -child and heir of England. "Come here, sir," he added kindly, "and tell -us of your studies." - -The child came obediently and stood by the King's knee, gazing at him -with very large eyes that shone as if they had a light behind them and -were themselves of crystal. He was about ten, remarkably thin and as -pale as wax to his very lips, which were compressed with a painful -expression of control; the blue veins showed across his high temples, -which were shaded by fine, light auburn hair. He wore a very stiff and -heavy suit of crimson and gold, a miniature sword, and the garter under -his knee. My lord his governor eyed him with the same kind of interest -as a trader feels towards some object which, indifferent as it is to -himself, he yet hopes to get a good price for. - -William took him gently by the shoulders and drew him closer. - -"What are they teaching you, eh?" he asked. - -The child answered in a precise, toneless voice-- - -"I am progressing very well, I thank Your Majesty. The dead languages -and mathematics, history, and the philosophy and errors of the ancients, -the creation of the world and the feudal system; the Gothic Constitution -and the beneficiary law are among my next subjects." - -"Doth Your Highness remember all these grave matters?" asked the King, -with a faint smile. - -"I remember very well, sir, when I have not a headache." - -"What gives you headache, Highness?" - -The little Duke answered gravely-- - -"If it were not blasphemy, Your Majesty, I should say that it was -acquiring religious knowledge and listening to sermons; but Dr. Burnett -says that is a temptation of the devil to induce me to give up my -studies." - -"Dr. Burnet is making a scholar of you," answered William; "but you are -to be a king and a soldier--do not forget that." - -A pale colour came into the grave little face. - -"Oh, I _want_ to be a soldier. I like the riding-school; but things you -like are of the devil, Dr. Burnet saith." He looked anxiously at the -King, as if hoping for a contradiction. - -"I think that is beyond Dr. Burnet to decide," replied William. "And -Your Highness must not let any one speak ill of soldiers--there is -nothing better for a man to be. As God hath called you to be a king you -will best serve Him by being what you feel a king should be--before all, -a brave soldier." - -The child gave a short sigh. - -"I fear it is a very difficult thing to be a king," he said anxiously. - -"Perhaps the most difficult thing in the world," answered William. "But -Your Highness will reign in happier times." - -"Sometimes," continued the little Duke, frowning painfully, "when my -head aches and I cannot remember, and Dr. Burnet is angry with me, and I -feel so tired, I wish I did not have to be a king--I wish----" He -paused. - -"What?" asked William; he put his fine hand delicately over the soft -hair. - -"That I was in heaven," said the child simply. - -"Already!" cried the King. He went very white; he had seen a sudden -look of Mary in Mary's sister's child. - -The Duke nodded. - -"But it is wicked to want to go before God calls you," he said, quoting, -obviously, his worthy tutor; "and being tired is a temptation of the -devil." - -"A strong one," answered the King shortly, and then was silent; it -seemed terrible to him that this child should begin where he left off, -in utter fatigue and despondency. He put his arm round the fragile -little body. - -"Highness," he said, "I will give you a troop of Horse, and you shall -drill them yourself, and you shall have some hours off your studies for -it, and I will come and give you lessons in soldiering." - -The little Duke's face flushed and changed in a marvellous fashion; he -caught the King's free hand and kissed it passionately. - -"But Dr. Burnet----" he faltered instantly. - -"God doth not only speak through Dr. Burnet," replied William. "Men and -horses are more than paper and ink for all that I could ever see; ay, -and dogs and swords more than Greek and Latin. The devil is as likely -to be between the pages of a book as out in the open, with the animals -whom you might love more than men, so faithful they are. My lord!" he -called to Marlborough, who had withdrawn with Torrington, and the -magnificent Earl came instantly, with his winning air of deference. -"This child is too much closeted," said the King. "Look to it, my lord, -that he is more on horseback." - -"Dr. Burnet findeth him an apt pupil, sir," responded Marlborough, with -the serenity and courtesy of indifference. "And Her Highness is very -satisfied." - -"But we are not," said William quietly. "It is our intention to give -His Highness a troop of Horse." Then he was silent, for he recalled in -a flash that his own beloved companions in arms might be taken from him -with no more regard than Marlborough would show in taking wooden toys -from this child. Perhaps some such thought was in my lord's mind; he -smiled and let his fine eyes rest mildly on the King. - -The little Duke clung to the voluminous ruffles on the King's breast; -his face was scarlet with excitement, and had for the moment lost its -premature look of wisdom and anxiety. - -"When you next go to Flanders may I come too?" he whispered. - -"Why, this is peace, Highness," smiled William. - -"But there will be war again, will there not, sir?" - -"God forbid," answered the King solemnly, "for we have utterly disarmed -ourselves." - -Seeing him so suddenly grave the Duke was silent, and the old look of -wonder and question came back into his eyes. - -William turned to him again. - -"But you will be a great soldier yet; remember me in your first battle, -Highness." - -The child fondled the King's star, and William, with exquisite -tenderness, lifted his long smooth curls of auburn hair, and passed them -round his fingers. - -"Stewart locks," he murmured, and his voice trembled with the thought of -what had been, what might have been, and what could now never be; and -another ringlet of this hued hair that lay hidden in his bosom seemed to -turn into a dagger that pierced into his heart. - -With a great effort he put the child from him and rose. - -"Bring His Highness to see us soon, my lord," he said to Marlborough; -"and see he learns no lackey's tricks such as the vulgar one of speaking -scornfully of your masters in your masters' houses, which faults, like -the vile treasons of mean men, are beneath us to punish; but we would -not have the child ape these manners." - -Marlborough's serene face slightly flushed; he could not, for all his -self-command, answer; he bowed very low under the King's straight gaze. - -"You will not forget the soldiers, sir?" cried the little Duke -anxiously. - -"On my honour, no," answered William. "Tell Her Highness I shall soon -wait on her." - -He bent and kissed the smooth auburn head and then the upturned, -grateful, earnest little face. - -My lord left with his charge, and Torrington was soon after dismissed; -the King remained in the window-seat. After awhile came my Lords -Devonshire, Somers, and Dorset, straight from Westminster, looking very -gloomy about this business of the breaking of the troops, and after them -Lord Ranelagh, back with his answer from the Commons. - -The King came forward a step to meet him, and Ranelagh, felt the blood -leave his own face as he saw the look that sprang into William's haggard -eyes. - -He stood silent, and the other lords glanced at each other furtively. - -The King put his hand to his heart. - -"Why"--he looked round the distressed faces--"why--they have -not--refused?" - -Ranelagh dropped to one knee. - -"Alas, sire," he began, "'twas from the first hopeless.... Harley hath -such a hold----" - -William interrupted. - -"The Commons have refused our request?" - -Ranelagh dared not make words about it. - -"Yes, sire," he answered, in a broken voice. - -"Ah!" exclaimed William. He turned away from all of them, and walked up -and down the long shining floor; after a moment or so he paused beside -Dorset, and said, in a very curious tone-- - -"I must get beyond sea--to--to breathe a little." - -None of them ventured to speak, and he moved to the window again; there -on the seat was the little crumpled paper boat William of Gloucester had -been making out of a scrap of his lesson paper. - -The King saw it, and a sudden passion kindled in him; he cast his eyes -wildly about him, and exclaimed, with the vehemence of agony-- - -"Had _I_ a son, by God, these Guards should not leave me!" - - - - - CHAPTER XII - - APATHY - - -Matthew Prior, secretary to the English Embassy at The Hague, walked in -the wonderful gardens at Loo, where the King Stadtholder lived in -retreat. - -It was early summer of the first year of the new century; there was -peace in Europe, prosperity in England and the United Provinces; the -work of William of Orange seemed finished indeed; he had dismissed the -Parliament that had so insulted and humiliated him without a word, and -as soon as it was up had gone into retirement at Loo; he had lost, it -seemed, all interest in England, and even in the affairs of Europe. -When the death of the infant Electoral Prince had reduced the first -Partition Treaty to wastepaper, William had framed another with the -Archduke Charles as claimant; the discovery of this had provoked great -wrath in England. - -Portland, Somers, and Montague had been threatened with impeachment; M. -Canales, the Spanish Ambassador, had delivered an impertinent memorial -to William, who was now regarded as a powerless cipher in a -Parliament-ruled country, and the King had ordered him to be dismissed, -and recalled his ambassador from Madrid. As long as Louis kept to the -second Partition Treaty--and William could not doubt but that he would -keep so grave an undertaking--he cared nothing for what they did in -England; he left the government in the hands of a feeble Tory ministry, -of which the late Queen's uncle, Lord Rochester, was the head, and, -heedless of the complaints and murmurs, remained in retirement at -Guelders. - -Matthew Prior thought this a sorry end for his hero. This flinging of -everything to chance, this cynical indifference, this apathetic calm, -seemed a poor conclusion for all that high hope, that serene courage, -that long, splendid, patient endeavour, that continuous, glorious -action. - -He thought sorrowfully that it was now too late. The King was no longer -a power in Europe he had been crossed and humbled before all the world, -his army had been taken from him, his private grants revoked, his public -policy abused, his friends, his ministers, attacked, that Spanish -government that in the days of his greatness had humbly offered him the -Spanish Netherlands, now dared to insult him; and he was a dying man. - -Matthew Prior sighed gloomily as he walked through the formal grounds -with their exact parterres, flower-beds, groves, and alleys, their twin -fountains and regular groups of trees. - -The King had been at dinner when he arrived, and he was waiting his -audience with some sinking of the heart; he had not seen William since -the peace was proclaimed, three years ago. - -It was about three of the clock when he was sent for, and conducted into -the large dining-room where the King was still at table. - -The Palace, which was one of the most admired in Europe, had been built -by William with lavish magnificence on the site of his favourite -hunting-box. Mr. Prior, who had seen Versailles, was impressed by the -commodious nobility of the apartments through which he passed. - -The dining-room was large, lofty, and cool, though filled with the -reflected sunlight that shone in the thick trees that shaded the terrace -on to which the four tall windows opened. The walls were hung with -pictures of the Princes of the House of Orange, wearing armour and -holding the baton of authority; above the deep fireplace was a portrait -of Queen Mary in red and ermine, clasped with emeralds and pearls. - -The whole room was full of the sense of afternoon sun, but was in shade -by reason of the trees without; yet here and there the gold light -penetrated and lay in glowing patches on walls, floor, and the white -lace cloth that covered the long table that occupied the centre of the -chamber. - -A number of gentlemen sat round this table on velvet-covered stools; the -dishes had been removed; the wineglasses and bottles showed pleasantly -on the white linen. - -At the head of the table sat the King, in a low arm-chair; beside him -was a huge white boar-hound, who rested his long head on his master's -knee. William's right arm was round this animal, whom he caressed with -affectionate movements of his fingers. - -Mr. Prior glanced round the company; he knew them all by sight: there -was M. Albemarle, seated nearest to the King, N. Ginckel, my Lord -Romney, my Lord Wharton, my Lord Pembroke, M. Zulestein, and M. -Auverquerque; they were all laughing at something that featherbrain Lord -Romney was relating, and most of them were in hunting attire and leant -carelessly on the table. - -Matthew Prior looked at the King with searching interest. - -William was leaning back in a languid attitude, with his black plumed -hat pulled over his eyes; he wore a full coat of velvet brocade in a -dark purple, with the huge embroidered elbow-cuffs, now fashionable, and -under-sleeves of gold tissue; a great quantity of heavy lace fell over -his scarlet waistcoat and at his wrists; the long, thick, dark curls of -his peruke half concealed the flash of his star. - -This extravagant vesture increased the extreme delicacy of his -appearance; he seemed sunk and fainting under the weight of velvet, -silk, and lace. His face was pale and hollow, his eyes heavy-lidded and -deeply shadowed beneath; constant pain had drawn his mobile mouth into -an expression of endurance; his cleft chin, usually carried slightly -raised, was sunk on his bosom. - -Mr. Prior, as he came up to make his bow, noticed that His Majesty's -hands were so thin that the diamond ring that he wore on the third -finger of the hand that caressed the dog had slipped round till the rose -was towards the palm. - -He looked at the young secretary without interest. - -"From The Hague?" he asked, and his voice was broken to a whisper with -his unceasing asthma. - -Mr. Prior went on one knee and handed the letter with which he had been -charged. William motioned him to put it on the table by the -wineglasses. - -"Nothing of importance, eh?" he said. - -"I think not, sire; it was merely to ask instructions as to how matters -were to be arranged with Monsieur Heinsius with regard to the Spanish -questions----" - -"Let that wait," returned the King indifferently. He leant forward and -took up his wineglass. "How do you like our house of Loo, Mr. Prior?" - -"I think it worthy of Your Majesty." - -"The gardens are at their finest," remarked William languidly. - -Mr. Prior rose and awaited commands; but the King seemed to quickly -forget his presence, and the other gentlemen took no notice of him at -all; most of them were far gone in wine, and William was drinking -heavily--a new thing, for he had ever been the most moderate of men and -intolerant of excess in others. - -The King turned his indifferent gaze on Romney and Wharton, who were -arguing together. - -"Discussing a Republic for England, my lords?" he asked. - -"Something of the kind, sir," said Wharton. - -"Well, I will disappoint you yet," answered William. "I will bring King -James's son over on you and give you another Stewart king----" - -"Why, that is as Your Majesty pleaseth," replied Wharton impudently. - -"Or there is Tom of Pembroke," continued William; "there is a good block -of wood out of which to chip a king!" - -Pembroke raised a heated face at this mention of his name. - -"Sir," he cried, leaning down the table towards the King, "my Lord -Albemarle telleth me that I was insolent last night." - -"So you were--damned insolent," said the King, in his quiet, tired, -unmoved voice. - -"I could not have been in my senses," said Pembroke, in a slightly -maudlin tone. - -"Oh, silly," cried the King, "you were drunk as any trooper; but I never -mind what a man saith after his tenth bottle." - -Romney laughed. - -"You'll get more wisdom out of Tom then than when he is sober, sir!" - -"And even more folly out of you, Harry," said His Majesty dryly. - -He filled his tall glass, and was raising it when he glanced at -Albemarle, who was looking at him steadily. - -William laughed. - -"Are you thinking of the doctors?" he asked. - -"Your Majesty will ever disregard their advice," replied the young man, -in a moved voice. - -The King laughed again, not at all pleasantly or graciously. - -"Do you think I would forego even the gratification this affordeth"--he -touched the bottle contemptuously--"for years of life?" - -He drank the wine, using all the while his left hand, for his right arm -was round the boar-hound. - -"Dr. Ratcliffe aspired to wit this morning," he said. "'I would not -have you cough for your three kingdoms,' he remarked. 'Doctor,' I told -him, ''tis the three kingdoms killing me, not the cough.'" He looked -round and saw Mr. Prior still standing between the table and the -green-gold light of the window. - -"Why, Mr. Prior, I play the indifferent host," he murmured. "Join -us--take your place----" - -Romney and Wharton good-humouredly made way for the young poet, who drew -another stool modestly to the table. He was surprised at the easy air -of familiarity that reigned; the way these men spoke to the King, and -the way in which he accepted it. The three older Dutchmen, Mr. Prior -noticed, Mr. Zulestein, M. Auverquerque, and my Lord Athlone, were the -gravest of the company; he fancied they were there only out of loyalty -to the King. - -Albemarle began talking to Wharton; they entered into a lively -discussion of their separate racing-stables. The King leant back -against the crimson cushions of his chair and turned his head so that he -looked out of the window. - -Mr. Prior gazed at him; he seemed absorbed in thought. Mr. Prior knew -that it was the face of a dying man and a heart-broken man; there was -not a line of hope, of peace, or pride in that wan countenance; only the -serenity of grief, the apathy of utter weariness--a man worn out, done -for, awaiting scornfully an inglorious end. And he had done great -things; he had been a light to encourage half the world--a name to rally -nations. - -"He should have died outside Namur," thought Mr. Prior, and felt the -tears smarting against his lids. - -He was not deceived by the boon companions, the drinking, the careless -talk. He knew that the King cared for none of it, save as a means to -hasten death; indeed, the little poet wondered, what had he to live -for?--the Queen had gone, then Portland, then the army--his task was -finished. - -It might have been an hour or more that the King lay back in his chair -looking out on the slow-waving, full-leaved boughs, through which the -changing sunlight moved; while the noisy talk of the others filled the -shadowy spaces of the mellow, lofty room. - -Albemarle looked at him often and anxiously, but did not speak. - -At last William moved, rousing the sleeping dog. - -"I will go into the garden," he said, "before the sun leaves it. I -would see those Turkey pears." - -Joost van Keppel rose instantly. The King took his arm and got up -slowly, coughing with the effort of movement. Mr. Prior was shocked to -see that he could not stand alone, but must support himself on -Albemarle's young strength. - -The others rose, save my Lord Pembroke, who had been asleep this -half-hour across the table. The King saw him--an unpleasing spectacle -of a stout gentleman with peruke awry and a coarsely red face, breathing -heavily through his open mouth, with a wet stain of wine under his cheek -and over his cravat. - -Mr. Prior expected a burst of anger from the King; but, instead, His -Majesty, still holding on to my Lord Albemarle's arm, broke into a long -fit of laughter, in which the others joined for no reason at all save -their vacant humours. - -The poet could not force even a smile. William's unusual and immoderate -amusement had a sad sound to him. - -Romney and Wharton went to drag Pembroke to his feet, and the King -continued laughing. - -He was still laughing when an usher and a courier entered the room. - -"From England, sire," said the latter, dropping to one knee. - -Albemarle sobered instantly. The King ceased laughing and let go my -lord's arm, holding himself upright by aid of the table edge. - -"Well, what of England?" he muttered. "We have no great interest in -England." - -"Grave news, Your Majesty," answered the exhausted courier, who had -ridden fast from the Hague. - -The King took the dispatch and broke it open; it was from Lord -Rochester, and contained a few lines written in haste: "His Highness the -Duke of Gloucester died suddenly last night of a chill. He desired to -be remembered to Your Majesty." - -William's hands trembled; the news was serious in so far as it meant -that the English succession was now absolutely unsettled. But he was not -thinking of that, but of the white, anxious child's face framed in those -auburn curls, and the gallant spirit looking out of troubled eyes that -had faced the miseries of royalty so bravely. - -"My Lord of Gloucester is dead," he said briefly, flinging down the -dispatch. "They might have spared their Greek and Latin--poor sweet -wretch!" His voice shook a little. "I am glad he had his troop of -Horse." Then, during the little pause of consternation that held them -all mute, he spoke again: "And I am glad he did not live to be a King." - - - - - CHAPTER XIII - - FRANCE CHALLENGES - - -The sentry on duty at the foot of the great staircase in Hampton Court -Palace was nearly asleep. - -The palace had been silent for hours; ever since he had relieved the -soldier before him he had not heard a sound. It was now nearly three -o'clock and beginning to be dark on the huge, gloomy stairway, for it -was mid-November and a mist had risen all day from the river. - -The sentry yawned and then shivered. Wren's palace was neither very -cheerful nor very well warmed. The sentry preferred Whitehall, with the -noises of the city without and the coming and going of people to the -public galleries. - -His Majesty was in residence at Hampton Court, but that made little -difference. He lived so quietly and saw so few people, that he might, -the sentry thought, as well have stayed at Loo. He only came, as was -well known, to open Parliament, and the moment it was up he would be off -again to Holland--a poor compliment to England; and now there was not -the excuse of the campaigns. - -The sentry yawned again and stretched himself, after carefully resting -his musketoon against the dark wall; then he looked up the stairs, which -were painted with great, scrambling, heathen figures that swarmed up to -the roof, where they were lost in the fast gathering shadows. He then -walked up and down to keep himself warm, and began to wonder how much -longer now before he was changed; it was difficult to keep count of the -time because he had lost the last chiming of King Henry's great, painted -clock. - -Presently the door at the head of the stairs opened, very slowly, but -with a distinct sound in the perfect silence. - -The sentry caught up his musketoon, thinking that this was one of the -officers from the guard-room, and peered cautiously up the stairway. - -It was, however, a gentleman in private clothes who was slowly closing -the door after him with, it seemed, some difficulty. - -The sentry, who knew no one had gone up, wondered who it could be. The -stairs were so dark that he could distinguish no more than a slight -figure, hatless, and wearing a cloak. - -There was a moment's pause and silence, then the new-comer began to -descend the wide, shadowed stairs, and the sentry knew who it was--there -was only one person who moved about the palace with that slow and -painful step, and that was the King. - -The man drew back, rigid, to his post. He wondered that the King should -be coming down the state staircase unattended and on such an inclement -day. As he stood, stiff at the salute, he watched the frail figure -crawling with dragging pauses through the dusk. - -The King had one hand on the heavy balustrade, and, by grasping this, -helped himself along. His head was bowed, and he continually paused to -cough or gasp for breath, his hesitating and unequal steps began to rasp -in the sentry's brain--he wished some one else would come. It seemed an -intolerable length of time as the King made his difficult progress from -step to step, and the cloaked figure with the bent, hidden face and the -one white hand, so thin that every bone in it showed, moving slowly down -the baluster, affected the solitary watcher with a sense almost of -terror. - -As the King approached this terror increased, as if some ghostly or -unearthly presence neared. The hall and stairway rapidly darkened, and -the King was but a shadow among shadows when he at length reached the -last step and stood grasping the post with his left hand and holding his -heart with his right. - -He stood there so long and so silently that the sentry's sense of -discomfort increased, and he felt a strong desire to turn and fly. - -Presently the King moved, with difficult, faltering steps, across the -hall, and unlatched the door that gave on the courtyard. As he did so, a -full ray of ghastly light fell across the obscurity, and the reason of -the sudden darkness was explained, for a thin cloud of snow could be -seen against the grey masonry of the palace. - -The sentry, who knew that it was dangerous for the King to go out save -when the weather was very fair, was startled to see him standing there -with the chill wind stirring his cloak and the bitter light of the snow -on his face. He stepped forward instinctively, but the King did not -hear him. - -After a few seconds William passed out, and, acting on an irresistible -impulse, the sentry followed him. - -The King turned to the left under the covered arcade, and, half resting -himself on the inner wall, made weary progress, the snow drifting in -through the open arches as far as his feet. He was continually so -shaken with his cough that he had to pause, and once the sentry caught a -short ejaculation of pain. - -They had made almost the circuit of the courtyard and had come to -another entrance to the palace, when a second sentry crossed their path. -William murmured something, passed him without looking back; the soldier -stared after him, then caught sight of the other following. - -"What is this?" he asked, in a quick whisper. - -The sentry explained as best he could. Ought the King to go out -alone--to go out this weather at all?--why, he could hardly crawl, and -his cough hurt one to hear. - -The second sentry only knew that they were to stay at their posts; he -advised his companion to go back to his lest the captain discovered. As -for the King, it was known that he was not good for long anyhow, and it -was no business of theirs. - -The other soldier was not so sure; he thought my Lord Albemarle ought to -know, at least. The King might easily be murdered by the French or the -Jacks, and then they would be blamed. - -But by now William had disappeared. The soldiers continued arguing in -subdued voices, when they were interrupted by the approach of a slim -gentleman in furs and velvet, who came with an easy, graceful step along -the arcade. Both the men knew him; he was the great Earl of Sunderland. - -His quick eye noticed two soldiers in place of one, and that they were -talking. His suspicions, that never lay very deep, were instantly -roused, he clapt his hand to his sword and paused. - -The man who had followed the King found courage to speak. - -"My lord, I humbly ask the pardon of your lordship, but His Majesty hath -gone out unattended in this foul weather, and I was bold enough to -follow His Majesty, thinking of all the late plots." - -"Who are you?" demanded Sunderland. - -"May it please your lordship, the sentry at the foot of the state -staircase." - -My lord narrowed his eyes on the man. - -"You were on guard once outside Whitehall on the day the bishops were -acquitted. I spoke to you--'God and the King'--you recall, fellow?" - -The soldier was silent with astonishment at the memory of my lord; for -himself, he recollected very well, but it was marvellous that a great -nobleman should remember such an incident during so many years. - -Sunderland gave him no time to speak. - -"Where did His Majesty go?" - -The soldier humbly pointed out the way, and my lord turned on his heel -and went rapidly across the dark, snowy courtyard. He had reached the -farther court, untouched by Sir Christopher and still of the fashion of -the great cardinal and Harry Tudor, before he saw the King ahead of him, -a solitary figure in the grey afternoon. - -My lord was instantly beside him. - -"Sire, I must speak with you, and at once." - -William looked round calmly. - -"Come to the river--I had a mind to see the river." - -Sunderland, standing uncovered, answered with energy and decision-- - -"Sire, if you have no regard for your own health, consider mine. This -weather is death." - -William took his arm. - -"No, Robert, 'tis the fireside that is death to me--to sit and doze like -a sick woman in shawls; but come into the great Hall, where we may be -undisturbed. Dr. Burnet is in my apartments with a packet of sermons." -He paused to cough, and then added: "As for your news--you are going to -offer me your resignation." - -"That," said Sunderland, "and something else." - -"Important?" - -"Of the greatest importance." - -They turned back across the courtyard, came to a dark archway, and -mounted a few steps to the left of it that led straight into the great -banqueting hall of Cardinal Wolsey, that, all dismantled and unfurnished -as it was, had the air of a vast, deserted church. It was even colder -than the outer air, and only an obscure light filtered through the tall -stained-glass windows. - -But William liked the place for its very sombreness. He led the way to -the room beyond, that was hung with old arras and suits of armour, and -lit by an oriel window, brilliant, even now, with coats and -emblazonments. - -A circular seat ran round this window, and in front of it was a table. - -Here the King and his minister seated themselves. William leant back -against the stained-glass, he was wrapped in his cloak to the chin, and -his face was quite colourless; only his eyes fixed Sunderland with a -look clear, vivid, and penetrating as ever. - -"So even you are leaving me?" he said. - -My lord laid his hat on the table and began to pull off his gloves. - -"As to that," he answered, "I am assured that there are a hundred and -sixty voices in the House for my impeachment. My friends could not face -that. And I am too old, sire, and too tired to brave what I once would -have braved." - -William nodded. - -"I would not ask it of you." - -Sunderland detached the Lord Chamberlain's gold key from his crimson -waistcoat and placed it on the pale oak table. - -"I shall be always at your service--just the same," he said; "but I -shall never climb again." He smiled. "This is the sum of it, sire--I -have no title that I was not born to, I shall have an impaired estate, a -detested memory--but I have lived my life, and I have no regrets--none." - -"You take with you my deep thanks and gratitude," responded William, -with animation. "I could never have done what I have done but for you. -You will remain my friend, if not my minister. What is your other news?" - -"Of far greater importance, sire. Of terrible meaning to Your Majesty." - -William's eyes flashed. He leant forward. - -"To do--with France?" he breathed. - -"Yes, sire. The courier from Paris will be here to-night, but the news -is all abroad in London now." - -The King's hollow cheek flushed. - -"Tell me," he commanded. - -Sunderland hesitated; it was not easy to tell a great statesman that he -had been duped, that his laborious schemes had ended in humiliating -failure. It was not easy to tell a dying man that his life-work was all -to do again. - -"Well?" urged the King imperiously. - -"Sire, when the King of Spain died and left his crown to Philippe -D'Anjou, Your Majesty was not disturbed?" - -"No--because of the Partition Treaties." - -Sunderland looked away, and said in a low voice-- - -"King Louis hath flung over the Partition Treaties, accepted the will, -and published a memorial justifying his action." - -On hearing that he had been so cheated, deceived, betrayed, that, for -the first time in his life, he had made a huge political mistake, a -blunder, in trusting France, and that France had been all this time -laughing at him, that he had been King Louis' dupe, that he was despised -and challenged by the court he had once humbled, William gave a little -gasp like a sob, and sat very still. - -"Louis," continued Sunderland, "defies you, the Republic, and the -Emperor, and thinks of nothing but seating his grandson on the throne of -Spain." - -William sprang up with the energy of a strong man. - -"My God!" he cried, "I was a fool to trust France. I should have known! -I should have known!" - -A colour was in his face, his eyes were brilliant, his breast heaved. - -"Their effrontery!" he cried again; "their shameful effrontery! I did -not think even they would have broken a solemn treaty made in the face -of the whole world! I must confess I am a dupe," he added proudly, "but -if faith and honour are to be disregarded 'tis easy to cheat any man." - -He sank back on the window-seat and pressed his hand to his forehead. - -"They think I am a cipher now--a King without an army--a dying man, but -I am he who met them single-handed once and could again." His voice, -broken and weak as it was, expressed an extraordinary enthusiasm and -resolution. "France shall pay for this. I will commit Europe to demand -payment, even if I do not live to see it given. Dear Lord! doth Louis -think that while I draw a breath a Bourbon shall rule over Spain, the -Netherlands, Milan, Sicily--the Indies?" - -He rose and began to walk about; his eyes had flashed no brighter in his -youth. He clasped his sword-hilt and half drew it from the scabbard. - -"The sword, the sword!" he said, "no way but that. Did I not ever say -so? The sword shall bring them to their knees yet; that is the only way -to deal with France." - -Sunderland sat silent. He was appalled at the thought of the task -before the King if he would resist the aggressions of Louis; for the -English were in no humour for another war, and had been from the first -inclined to the King of Spain's will, not the Partition -Treaty--principally, perhaps, because William had framed the latter. - -My lord ventured to hint some of this. - -"I know," answered William quietly. "The blindness here is -incredible--the ignorance, the malice, astonishing. It is the utmost -mortification to me that I cannot at once act with the rigour I should, -but I have performed some hard tasks before. _I must bring England into -this_. And there is the Republic--when did she fail? She is with me -always." - -He came and sat by Sunderland again, rested his elbows on the table and -looked down at the floor, supporting his head on his left hand. - -He was face to face with, and had instantly and deliberately undertaken, -a task more difficult and tremendous than those he had carried through -in '72 and '88. It would be the greatest action of his life--and he had -perhaps a few months, at most a few years, to live. There were as many -odds against him as there had ever been; so many, so continuous, had -been his humiliations and sorrows, that a few moments ago he had not -desired to live another day. Now he found himself called to the supreme -task of all his laborious career--a task which, if successful, would -crown his work with ultimate triumph, however distant, and which, if it -failed, would make his whole life useless indeed. - -He looked at his wasted hand lying on the table. Every breath was a -pain to him. He had scarcely the strength to sit upright. He had to be -lifted on to his horse, or into his coach. The doctors gave him dates -beyond which he could not live; but his spirit was unchanged since the -day that it had inspired him to wrest his country from the conqueror, -and it rose now to such a strength of enthusiasm that it actually -laughed at the weakness of the poor body that held it... - -William of Orange looked up smiling. - -"I shall succeed," he said. "I shall succeed." - - - - - CHAPTER XIV - - THE VANGUARD OF THE WORLD - - -Again the trees were yellowing in the splendid park at Loo; again the -autumn sun fell tenderly over the Palace and the stiff beds of late -roses. - -William of England and Monsieur Heinsius were standing by the sundial, -which was the centre of formal walks and exact parterres. - -They were discussing the progress of that endeavour the King had set -himself nearly a year ago, when he learnt of Louis's breaking of the -Partition Treaty--a year of toil, of patience, of skill, of tact, of -sacrifice on the part of William; and it had met with success. Even the -English Parliament had not been able to resist his exquisite management. -Meanwhile he was quietly forming the Grand Alliance and feeling his way -to hurl the inevitable challenge at France. - -He was leaning now on a thick polished malacca cane, with a gold and -ivory handle, from which swung two heavy crimson tassels, and listening -to the Grand Pensionary of Holland, who had been in everything the -perfect friend, the perfect servant. - -"We can do no more," M. Heinsius was saying; "the States are in -readiness. We must wait for England." - -"I have been doing that," answered William, "all my life." And he -sighed a little, though not with discouragement. There had of late been -every sign that the temper of the English was changing. They began to -murmur at the Parliament and its constant thwarting of the King. Louis -had been, as usual, insolent in his triumph, and British pride began to -rise at French insults. William had waited with infinite patience, -worked with infinite skill. He still waited and still worked, but with -a sure hope of success. Louis, in the infatuation of his success, might -easily commit some arrogant action that would inflame the people of -England beyond the control of any faction-ridden Commons. - -William took out his crystal and gold filigree watch and set it by the -sundial. The sky, the trees, the walks and groves, the stately lines of -the Palace, were all radiant in an amber-coloured light. The breeze was -warm as mid-summer, and lifted the leaves with a pleasant sound. The -King raised his eyes to the peaceful autumn beauty, and there was a look -in them that was never absent when he was in his own country--an -unconscious expression of the deep passion he felt for his own land, for -the very air of it, the very grass and trees and clouds. - -Presently he and M. Heinsius went into the house. Some German princes -were to dine with the King. All his Dutch friends were there also (save -only Portland), and it seemed like the old days again when the -Stadtholder would escape for a few days' hunt to Guelders--when he was -young and everything was yet to do. - -Albemarle, lately invested with the garter, and radiant under his -splendours and in the satisfaction of great abilities finding scope, had -newly come from London, and during the meal William questioned him on -the state of parties there. His answers were satisfactory: the men of -Kent had lately sent a stern memorial to the Parliament, requesting them -to give up their internal quarrels and aid the King in helping his -allies in a fitting manner to resist French dominion in Europe. - -The King spoke affectionately and gratefully to Albemarle; then leant -back in his chair, and was, after his habit, silent. - -His reserve had grown on him more and more of late; he scarcely spoke at -all save to his intimates, and saw only those when he was obliged. - -Towards the end of the long dinner he roused himself, and, leaning -towards M. Heinsius, who sat on his right, said a curious thing. - -It was--"Do you think Monsieur de Witt would be proud of his pupil now?" - - M. Heinsius could find no answer. - -"He was about the age I am now when he met his end," continued William, -in a quiet tone. "After all, he had a happier life than I have had ... -Monsieur de Witt! How long ago it seemeth!" - -He filled his glass, and lifted it as if he drank a silent toast. He -looked down the rich table and the splendid guests and up at the -portrait of his wife above the dark chimney-piece. - -A full ray of dusky sunlight struck across the canvas and gave the -painted face something of the glow and bloom of life. The large brown -eyes seemed to sparkle, the red lips to move, the white breast to heave. -The King was still looking straight at this picture when a messenger -entered. - -At a glance William saw that his dispatches were from England and -France. He set the wine down, and broke open that from London. - -M. Heinsius, intently watching him, saw his countenance change, a -violent flush rise to his cheek, and his hands tremble. - -He pulled his hat over his eyes to cover his emotion, and nervously tore -open the French dispatch. M. Heinsius saw that this was in the hand of -my Lord Manchester, English Ambassador in Paris. - -When the King had read it he was composed again, but even paler than -usual. He folded both the letters up and placed them in the huge flap -pocket of his coat; then he cast his dimmed but still eagle eye round -the table. - -"Gentlemen," he said, in a firm voice, "His late Majesty King James is -dead at St. Germains." - -He pushed back his chair a little and drew a quick breath. - -"And King Louis hath shamelessly outraged us by proclaiming his son, the -pretended Prince of Wales, as King of Great Britain." - -For a moment the company could not grasp the import of this news: it was -too monstrous. - -"His Christian Majesty hath been foolish before," added William, with -grim meaning; "never, I think, as foolish as this." - -"By God!" cried M. Heinsius, "there will be no further difficulty with -England now!" - -The silence broke into murmurs and exclamations. The King took no -notice of them; he was thinking of the meaning of this in Europe. Louis -had now broken the Treaty of Ryswyck as he had the Partition Treaties. -The result would be instant and inevitable war. Even the peace party in -the English Commons could not hang back now... - -He turned suddenly to Albemarle. - -"Send at once to London that M. Poussin is to leave as quickly as M. -Barillon did in '88." He laughed shortly. "This will be the second -time I have turned a French Ambassador out of London! And Manchester -shall be recalled at once." He rose. "Gentlemen," he said, addressing -the eager Dutch and Germans, "this meaneth our third war with France; -and this time I think it will be conclusive, and we, not France, be left -the vanguard of the world." - - - - - CHAPTER XV - - THE EVE OF WAR - - -Service was being held in the Royal Chapel at Hampton Court. - -There were not many people there: only the King, the officers of his -household, and one or two others, including Mr. Prior, new come from The -Hague. - -William knelt alone in his pew while his chaplain delivered the final -and beautiful prayers of the Anglican service; he was not listening to -or repeating these prayers. - -The old austerity of his stern religion had become softened with his -vaster knowledge and experiences, nor could his firm conception of a -wide tolerance maintain the narrow prejudices of sectarian belief; but -the old teaching of the faith that had supported his youth and manhood -through so much was still strong in him. It suited his nature and his -circumstance; it was the creed of his beloved country, and had ever been -under the especial protection of his family. The heart of the King was -still as Calvinist as it had been when he learnt his grim theology from -Pastor Trigland. Though he knelt in English churches and listened to -Anglican services, it pleased him to close his eyes and imagine himself -back in the bare whitewashed Groote Kerk, an eager grave boy, a silent -anxious man, seated in the stiff pew watching the sunlight fall athwart -the massive, tall pillars, and drawing stern comfort and noble -inspiration from the pastor's thunderous declamation of the theology of -Geneva. - -This morning the picture came before him with a peculiar and painful -vividness. He put his hand over his eyes and thought that he could hear -the little stir of Mary's gown beside him, and that if he put out his -hand he would touch hers, warm on her Prayer Book ... - -Long after the prayers had ceased he continued kneeling, and when he at -last rose there was a curious expression on his face. - -When he left the Chapel his words were to know if Albemarle had yet -arrived. - -No, he was told, but my lord might be expected any hour, as the packet -from Holland had got in last night. - -The King had constantly shown a wistful impatience for the return of -Albemarle, when he had parted from him with great pain; but my lord was -the only person who knew his exact wishes in the matter of the disposal -of the troops in the United Provinces and whom he could entrust with his -minute instructions to M. Heinsius. - -He now calculated that my lord, even riding all night, could scarcely be -there before midday, and he ordered out his horse and said he would ride -in the park awhile. It was a day in February, and mild and fine. Of -late, too, he had been unexpectedly better in health, and had even -hunted and spent hours on horseback. - -As the little company left the Chapel, Mr. Prior fell behind to speak -with Lord Buckhurst, son of my Lord Dorset, Mr. Prior's former patron. - -"Everything is done, is it not?" he asked eagerly. - -"Everything," said my young lord, with enthusiasm. "We--and the -allies--will take the field this spring. God bless His Majesty!" - -"Ay, he did it. I would I could have heard his speech to Parliament. -They say, sir, it hath roused Europe like the trumpet-call to -charge----" - -"Europe, Mr. Prior, and the Commons of England. I think no nobler words -were ever heard in Westminster--he raised them all above themselves--you -have read the speech? It is in a dozen different tongues already. -England might hold the balance of Europe, he said, if she would exert -her ancient vigour and forget her unhappy internal animosities;--and she -will, Mr. Prior, she will--thanks to His Majesty." - -My Lord Buckhurst was only voicing the general sentiment of enthusiasm -and loyalty that William had at last succeeded in rousing. - -"Will the King take the campaign this year?" asked Matthew Prior, as -they strolled out into the magnificent gardens. - -"I do not think so--it is to be my Lord Marlborough." - -"A man who was ever detested by the King." - -"His Majesty saith he is the greatest general and statesman. Next year -he might go himself--there seemeth hope that he might be recovered -then." - -They passed the yew hedges and fountains, the famous patterned -flower-beds, and came out by King Charles's Long Canal, with the -resplendent avenue of trees rising up lofty against the pale spring sky -and fading into a fair, hazy distance. Coming now into the park where -the fresh grass was pushing up through the dead damp leaves of last -autumn, and the little groups of slender deer moved delicately through -the open sloping glades, they perceived the King riding with two grooms, -and holding his hat in his hand to catch the full strength of the faint -sun on his face. - -He drew up his horse as he saw the two gentlemen, and spoke to them -kindly, telling them of the new fine entrance-gates he proposed to make -from the Palace grounds to Bushey Park. - -He looked more animated and cheerful than he had done for a long while. -He was mounted on a splendid young sorrel horse, that he managed with -all his old skill. - -"A new fellow," he remarked. "The grooms warned me he was spirited, but -I could scarcely be afraid of a horse--eh?" He faintly smiled and -patted the great creature's glossy neck with his thin, white, ungloved -hand. - -My Lord Buckhurst looked at the frail figure of the King and the great -power of the animal, and indeed wondered that he could manage him. He -secretly agreed with the grooms that William was perhaps relying too -much on his exquisite horsemanship in mounting such an untried brute. - -"I hope," said William, "that I shall find my Lord Albemarle when I -return." - -He touched up the horse and galloped away out of sight down the long -avenue, the grooms after him. - -Lord Buckhurst and Mr. Prior lingered a little in the pleasant dim sun -and shade, talking over this great prospect opening out over Europe, and -the part the nations of the world would play in the coming -struggle--which could not fail to establish for ever the Protestant -faith and the liberty of peoples. - -Presently the sun clouded over, and they were for returning to the -Palace, when the distant sound of hoofs on the grass caused them to look -round, thinking this might be the King returning. - -What they saw was a riderless horse--a monstrous sorrel horse--galloping -across the glade, with the stirrups flying loose. - -"The King--his horse!" exclaimed Mr. Prior breathlessly. Lord Buckhurst -said nothing; he turned and ran swiftly towards where the animal had -come from. Cumbered as he was with sword, full extravagant vesture, and -a wide-bottomed peruke, youth brought him easily over the ground, and in -a few minutes he came to the spot he made for--a little clearing beyond -the great trees of the avenue, with Mr. Prior breathless at his heels. - -They saw there what they had been dreading to see: the King lying on the -ground, and the two frightened grooms coming up, one dismounted and in -an embarrassment to know what to do with his horse, the other giving -doleful exclamations and cries for help. - -William had raised himself on one elbow, and was holding a handkerchief -to his mouth. - -Buckhurst and Prior rushed up to him. - -"Are you hurt, sire?" cried my lord. - -The King removed the handkerchief from his lips; it was scarlet with -blood. - -"No," he answered. "The brute threw me over that molehill--the first -time, my lord, I have been thrown----" - -He put his hand to the shoulder on which he had fallen. - -"Something broken, I think," he said, in a fainter voice. "They were -right--I overestimated my skill--I have not the seat--I--once--had." - -My lord endeavoured to raise him, tenderly enough; but at the attempt to -move the King's face went of an ashy colour, and he fainted with pain. - -"This is the end," murmured my lord. "Take him up, Mr. Prior--dear God, -I think this is the end." - -With the aid of the two servants, who had now left their horses, they -carried him back, by easy degrees, into the Palace, and his own -apartments. - -Before the doctor could be called he came to his senses and asked for -Albemarle. On being told he had arrived, he bid him rest a little -before he delivered his news, and, having sent the message, called M. -Zulestein to bring him his yet unfinished letter to M. Heinsius. - -When it was brought, and quill and ink, he sat up in his great chair -with arms, and added painfully these words: "God be praised, all -difficulties are overcome," and his name. - -He bid them, in a broken whisper, send off this letter immediately, and -fell back again in his chair, very white and frowning. - -The alarmed gentlemen were for his seeing the doctor immediately, but he -desired to give Albemarle his audience first. - -My lord came on the instant, spurred and dusty, and all in a reek from -travel. - -He entered, with a breathless air of dread, the throne-room, where they -had brought the King. - -William was seated in a great low chair of red velvet, in front of the -blue dais and throne, which bore in silver the Royal arms and the motto -of Nassau: "Je Maintaindrai." He still wore his buff hunting-coat with -the gold galloon on the wide skirt and the tight doeskin boots with the -gilt spurs; his waistcoat was open on his laced shirt, and he held his -right hand over his heart. - -Lord Albemarle fell on his knees and passionately kissed the King's free -hand. - -William looked down at him affectionately, and said, between quick -little gasps-- - -"How go matters in Holland?" - -"Well, sire, well--everything is in readiness. The States are willing -to everything that Your Majesty wisheth; all the preparations are -complete for an early campaign--but you, Your Majesty----" - -"Tell me of Holland," interrupted William faintly. - -Albemarle looked round the company, and hesitated; but at a sign from M. -Zulestein obeyed the King, and spoke of the affairs of the Republic, and -of their response to the King's call to arms. - -William of Orange listened to these words, that told him his lifework -was at last accomplished, with such calm that it seemed indifference, or -as if he was giving no attention to the matter of the discourse; he -never changed his attitude or raised his downcast eyes. It seemed as if -even this could not rouse him now. - -When Albemarle paused at last and waited, half fearfully, William spoke, -but so faintly that my lord, kneeling close as he was, could hardly -catch the words. - -"I have often wished to die," he murmured; "but now I might wish to live -and see this prospect fulfilled; but I draw near my end--the end--the -end----" - -He said the word three times with so many little sighs, and then -fainted, dropping his hand from his heart. - - - - - CHAPTER XVI - - GOD AND THE KING - - -Monsieur Heinsius sat in the little room at the Binnenhof, which had -belonged to the Grand Pensionnaries of Holland ever since the Republic -had been formed. The furniture and the tall clock in the corner were -unchanged since the time of the great John de Witt; the window looked on -the Vyverberg, where the swans were floating on the grey, shining, and -placid water. It was a day in late March, the year 1702, and the clock -of the Groote Kerk had just struck four. - -There was a pause in M. Heinsius's strenuous work; for the moment he had -nothing to do, and he was very glad of the rare leisure. He had not -been in good health for some time, and to-day felt feverish and heavy in -his limbs; he winced at the effort of giving instructions to his -secretaries, putting up his papers, and going home, so remained, half -dozing in his chair, looking at the peaceful surface of the lake, and -the still bare trees, and neat brick houses beyond. - -Before him, on his old black polished bureau, lay the last letter from -the King-Stadtholder, which had given him great pleasure, for alarming -reports had been current in The Hague as to the health of His Majesty -since his accident at Hampton Court; but in this he said not one word of -his illness. The last words were--"I am infinitely concerned to learn -that your health is not yet quite established. May God be pleased to -grant you a speedy recovery. I am unalterably your good friend, -William." - -True, the letter was dated the 20th of February, and had been delayed in -the coming, and M. Heinsius knew that there might be other news in the -packets that were held up in the North Sea by the spring storms; but he -believed that the King would not so have written had he been in any -danger. - -Then an extraordinary thing happened to M. Heinsius. He was leaning -back in his chair, weary and exhausted, his head aching with a little -fever, and a kind of lassitude on his senses, when something caused him -to move his head sharply and look through the open door into the next -chamber, where two of his secretaries usually worked. - -They were, however, now absent in the Assembly, and M. Heinsius believed -himself alone in the two rooms; he was therefore surprised to see a -young man standing in this outer chamber looking out at the Vyverberg -and The Hague with an arrested air of intense interest. - -M. Heinsius moved round in his chair, but felt no desire to speak. Both -the rooms were full of early sunshine and absolutely silent. M. -Heinsius observed the stranger with a sensation of vague wonder. - -He was very young--little more than a boy--but of a very grave, still -carriage; he wore a violet coat, a black sash, a plain sword, and a -cravat of Frisian needlework; his clothes were of the fashion of thirty -years ago--of the time of John de Witt. - -He was very slender and slight; his hair, which was long, thick, and -heavily curling, of a deep chestnut colour, fell either side a thin hawk -face that M. Heinsius could only imperfectly see; he wore one jewel, and -that was the colour of the Garter. - -M. Heinsius neither spoke nor moved. Presently the youth turned and -came towards the Grand Pensionary's cabinet, walking stiffly, and -holding his hat under his arm. M. Heinsius noticed the old-fashioned -rosettes on his square-toed shoes. - -He came steadily through the sunlight, his glance cast thoughtfully -down, and advanced to the desk before which M. Heinsius sat; he moved -between the Grand Pensionary and the window, and, leaning forward, put -his right hand, which was ringless and beautiful, on the letter of -William of Orange. - -Then he lifted a pair of eyes of singular power and of a marvellous -brilliancy, and flashed a smile at M. Heinsius. - -"It is finished," he said, pressing his palm on the letter. "But you -will know what to do." - -Then he turned and looked out of the window with wistful passion, as of -one leaving something he loves, and sighed a little. After a moment he -moved away, reluctantly it seemed, and went as he had come, slowly and -gravely into the outer chamber, with the sunshine all about him. - -M. Heinsius rose now, and turned to follow him; when he reached the door -of the anteroom he found it empty.... - -The Grand Pensionary returned to his seat and hid his face in his hands, -telling himself that he had the fever; he tried to think and argue with -himself, but it was a useless effort, and he fell presently into a -little sleep--or swoon--from which he only roused when he felt a touch -on his shoulder, and started up to find the room dark and his secretary -standing with a candle and a packet in his hand. - -"From England?" murmured M. Heinsius. - -"Yes, Mynheer." - -The Grand Pensionary took the letter eagerly, hoping to see the writing -of the King; but it was addressed in the hand of my Lord Albemarle. - -"I have been exhausted unto sleep," he said. "Light me the candles--I -will read this and go home." - -The candles, in their pale brass sticks, illumined the dark, simple -room, the black shining desk, the pale worn face of M. Heinsius, as he -opened the letter from England. - -It was dated at Kensington House, and this was what the Grand Pensionary -read:-- - - -"I have to offer you the saddest and most unwelcome news in the world, -which indeed I am not yet able to write plainly. - -"My beloved master died yesterday between seven and eight of the -evening, which is a loss that we and indeed all Europe cannot be too -sensible of. - -"He died with the greatest courage and serenity, speaking not at all -during his last days, save to thank us graciously for our services. He -had no words even for the priests who came about him, which may cause -some scandal here. - -"I believe his thoughts to have been always on the Republic, from some -short ejaculations he made, even while the prayers for the dying were -being read. I think that even at the very last his sole concern was the -United Provinces. - -"He asked for my lord of Portland, who came; but His Majesty was past -speech, yet he took my lord's hand very tenderly, and carried it up to -his heart, which was then at the last beat, and died in that attitude, -after but a short struggle with his breath. - -"They found a locket of the late Queen's hair fastened by a black ribbon -to his sword-arm. - -"As he was spared nothing during his life, neither was he at his death; -for the doctors say now that he must have been in great and perpetual -agony, for his broken collar-bone had pierced his lungs--yet not a -single murmur escaped him. His courage was of the most resplendent any -man may have--for it was tried in every way. - -"I cannot write a fuller account, for I am struck beyond expression by -this event. You will, of course, hear of it from others. - -"There is very little grief here. They talk of a statue--but when shall -we see it raised? They are busy praising Queen Anne, who is the -silliest creature I know--a strange people, these English; I am out of -humour with them, and you will see me at The Hague very soon. - -"I must tell you that the Earl of Sunderland died in retirement at -Althorp a few weeks since, despised and neglected by all. But the King -remained his friend to the end, and even consulted with him secretly, -and he had the faithful attendance of my lady, who is as good a woman as -any I ever met, and, God knows, a lonely one now. - -"People here, I think, cannot realize what His Majesty did, nor the task -he put through when he was in a manner dying, nor their own ingratitude. -But you and I know, and England will come to enjoy the fruits of his -work in the years that are coming--and in Holland he can never be -forgotten, for he was the greatest of the family of the noblest and most -patriotic princes whom the world hath ever seen, and while we are a -people we shall revere his name. - -"There is much to tell you; but I cannot write of business now, and -think to see you soon.--Mynheer the Grand Pensionary, your affectionate -friend, ALBEMARLE." - - -M. Heinsius put down the letter; he felt scarcely sad; a glorious -enthusiasm stirred his heart; the room seemed all too confined for his -mood; he went to the window, pushed it open, and looked out at the dark -water and the dark houses beyond, where the lights were beginning to -show in the windows. - -Now there was no doubting the identity of the young man of his vision, -nor what the words meant-- - -"It is finished, but you know what to do." - -The Grand Pensionary knew; he held in his hands all the clues to the -vast policies of his late master; he could guide the Republic though the -coming great events of war as the King would have wished. - -The peaceful evening fell to complete darkness; still Antoon Heinsius -stood looking over The Hague. The King hath gone to give his account to -God, he thought, and God will say--Not in vain did I make you my -captain--not in vain. - - - - - THE END - - - - - _Printed by_ MORRISON & GIBB LIMITED, _Edinburgh_ - - - - - * * * * * * * * - - - - - *METHUEN'S COLONIAL LIBRARY* - -A SERIES OF COPYRIGHT BOOKS BY EMINENT AND POPULAR AUTHORS, PUBLISHED AS -FAR AS POSSIBLE SIMULTANEOUSLY WITH THEIR APPEARANCE IN ENGLAND. THEY -ARE OF VERY HANDSOME APPEARANCE, BEING PRINTED ON ANTIQUE PAPER AND -BOUND TASTEFULLY IN CRIMSON PAPER OR IN ATTRACTIVE CLOTH COVERS - - - FICTION - - -*ALBANESI, E. MARIA* - -SUSANNAH AND ONE OTHER -CAPRICIOUS CAROLINE -LOVE AND LOUISA -THE BROWN EYES OF MARY -I KNOW A MAIDEN -THE INVINCIBLE AMELIA -THE BLUNDER OF AN INNOCENT -PETER, A PARASITE -THE GLAD HEART - - -*ANNESLEY, MAUDE* - -THIS DAY'S MADNESS -WIND ALONG THE WASTE -SHADOW-SHAPES - - -*BAGOT, RICHARD* - -A ROMAN MYSTERY -THE PASSPORT -TEMPTATION -ANTHONY CUTHBERT -LOVE'S PROXY -DONNA DIANA -CASTING OF NETS -THE HOUSE OF SERRAVALLE - - -*BAILEY, H. C.* - -STORM AND TREASURE -THE LONELY QUEEN - - -*BALL, OONA H. (Barbara. Burke)* - -BARBARA GOES TO OXFORD -THEIR OXFORD YEAR - - -*BARING-GOULD, S.* - -IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA -THE QUEEN OF LOVE -KITTY ALONE -NOEMI -THE BROOM-SQUIRE -PABO THE PRIEST -WINEFRED -THE FROBISHERS -CHRIS OF ALL SORTS - - -*BARR, ROBERT* - -IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS -THE MUTABLE MANY -THE COUNTESS TEKLA - - -*BARRETT, WILSON* - -THE SIGN OF THE CROSS -THE NEVER-NEVER LAND - - -*BELLOC, H.* - -A CHANGE IN THE CABINET - - -*BENNETT, ARNOLD* - -CLAYHANGER -THE CARD -HILDA LESSWAYS - - -*BENSON, E. F.* - -DODO - - -*BIRMINGHAM, G. A.* - -THE BAD TIMES -SPANISH GOLD -THE SEARCH PARTY -LALAGE'S LOVERS - - -*BOWEN, MARJORIE* - -I WILL MAINTAIN -DEFENDER OF THE FAITH -GOD AND THE KING - - -*CAPES, BERNARD* - -THE GREAT SKENE MYSTERY -THE LOVE STORY OF ST. BEL -WHY DID HE DO IT? -CONFESSIONS OF DIANA PLEASE -JAY OF ITALY -A ROGUE'S TRAGEDY -JEMMY ABERCRAW - - -*CAREY, WYMOND* - -LOVE THE JUDGE - - -*CASTLE, AGNES and EGERTOH* - -FLOWER O' THE ORANGE - - -*CASTLETON, ROBERT* - -THE ADVENTURES OF AN ACTOR - - -*CONRAD, JOSEPH* - -THE SECRET AGENT -A SET OF SIX -WESTERN EYES - - -*CORELLI, MARIE* - -A ROMANCE OF TWO WORLDS -VENDETTA -THELMA -ARDATH -THE SOUL OF LILITH -WORMWOOD -BARABBAS -THE SORROWS OF SATAN -THE MASTER-CHRISTIAN -TEMPORAL POWER -GOD'S GOOD MAN -HOLY ORDERS -BOY -THE MIGHTY ATOM -CAMEOS -THE LIFE EVERLASTING - - -*CROCKETT, S. R.* - -LOCHINVAR -THE STANDARD BEARER - - -*CROKER, B. M.* - -PEGGY OF THE BARTONS -A STATE SECRET -ANGEL -JOHANNA -THE HAPPY VALLEY -THE OLD CANTONMENT -A NINE DAYS' WONDER -KATHERINE THE ARROGANT -BABES IN THE WOOD - - -*CROSBIE, MARY* - -KINSMEN'S CLAY - - -*DOYLE, SIR A. CONAN* - -ROUND THE RED LAMP - - -*DUNCAN, SARA JEANNETTE* - -A VOYAGE OF CONSOLATION -COUSIN CINDERELLA -THE BURNT OFFERING - - -*ELLIOT, ROBERT* - -THE IMMORTAL CHARLATAN - - -*FINDLATER, JANE H.* - -THE GREEN GRAVES OF BALGOWRIE -THE LADDER TO THE STARS - - -*FINDLATER, MARY* - -THE ROSE OF JOY -A BLIND BIRD'S NEST -THE NARROW WAY -OVER THE HILLS - - -*FITZSTEPHEN, GERALD* - -GRIFFITH COLGROVE'S WIFE - - -*FOOTNER, HULBERT* - -TWO ON THE TRAIL - - -*FRANCIS, H. E.* - -GALATEA OF THE WHEATFIELD -MARGERY O' THE MILL -HARDY-ON-THE-HILL -STEPPING WESTWARD - - -*FRASER, MRS. HUGH* - -GIANNELLA - - -*FRY, B. and C. B.* - -A MOTHER'S SON - - -*GERARD, DOROTHEA* - -THE BRIDGE OF LIFE -THE IMPROBABLE IDYL - - -*GERARD, LOUISE* - -THE GOLDEN CENTIPEDE -THE HYENA OF KALLU - - -*GIBBON, PERCEVAL* - -MARGARET HARDING - - -*GISSING, GEORGE* - -THE CROWN OF LIFE - - -*HAMILTON, COSMO* - -MRS. SKEFFINGTON - - -*HARRADEN, BEATRICE* - -IN VARYING MOODS -THE SCHOLAR'S DAUGHTER -HILDA STRAFFORD -INTERPLAY - - -*HERBERTSON, A. G.* - -DEBORAH - - -*HICHENS, ROBERT B.* - -BYEWAYS -TONGUES OF CONSCIENCE -THE PROPHET OF BERKELEY SQUARE -FELIX -THE WOMAN WITH THE FAN -THE GARDEN OF ALLAH -THE BLACK SPANIEL -THE CALL OF THE BLOOD -BARBARY SHEEP -THE DWELLER ON THE THRESHOLD - - -*HILLIERS, ASHTON* - -THE MASTER GIRL - - -*HOLDSWORTH, ANNIE* - -THE LITTLE COMPANY OF RUTH - - -*HOPE, ANTHONY* - -A MAN OF MARK -A CHANGE OF AIR -THE GOD IN THE CAR -THE CHRONICLES OF COUNT ANTONIO -PHROSO -SIMON DALE -THE KING'S MIRROR -QUISANTE -A SERVANT OF THE PUBLIC -TALES OF TWO PEOPLE -THE GREAT MISS DRIVER -MRS. MAXON PROTESTS - - -*HORNIMAN, ROY* - -CAPTIVITY - - -*HOUGH, EMERSON* - -THE WAY OF A MAN - - -*HUEFFER, FORD MADOX* - -MR. APOLLO -AN ENGLISH GIRL -THE PORTRAIT - - -*HUTTEN, BARONESS VON* - -THE HALO - - -*HYNE, C. J. CUTCLIFFE* - -MR. HORROCKS, PURSER - - -*JACOBS, W. W.* - -MANY CARGOES -SEA URCHINS -A MASTER OF CRAFT -LIGHT FREIGHTS -THE SKIPPER'S WOOING -ODD CRAFT -AT SUNWICH PORT -DIALSTONE LANE -THE LADY OF THE BARGE -SALTHAVEN -SAILORS' KNOTS -SHORT CRUISES - - -*JAMES, HENRY* - -THE FINER GRAIN -THE OUTCRY - - -*LE QUEUX, WILLIAM* - -THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW -BEHIND THE THRONE -THE CROOKED WAY -THE CLOSED BOOK -THE HUNCHBACK OF WESTMINSTER - - -*LINDSEY, WILLIAM* - -THE SEVERED MANTLE - - -*LISLE, DAVID* - -A PAINTER OF SOULS - - -*LONDON, JACK* - -WHITE FANG - - -*LUBBOCK, B.* - -DEEP SEA WARRIORS - - -*LUCAS, E. V.* - -MR. INGLESIDE -LISTENER'S LURE -OVER BEMERTON'S - - -*LYALL, EDNA* - -DERRICK VAUGHAN, NOVELIST - - -*MAARTENS, MAARTEN* - -THE NEW RELIGION -BROTHERS ALL -THE PRICE OF LIS DORIS -HARMEN POLS - - -*MCCARTHY, JUSTIN HUNTLY* - -THE LADY OF LOYALTY HOUSE -THE DUKE'S MOTTO - - -*MacNAUGHTAN, S.* - -THE FORTUNE OF CHRISTINA M'NAB -PETER AND JANE - - -*MALET, LUCAS* - -THE WAGES OF SIN -THE CARISSIMA -THE GATELESS BARRIER -A COUNSEL OF PERFECTION -COLONEL ENDERBY'S WIFE -SIR RICHARD CALMADY - - -*MANN, MARY E.* - -ROSE AT HONEYPOT -THE HEART SMITER -AVENGING CHILDREN -MEMORIES OF RONALD LOVE -GRANMA'S JANE -MRS. PETER HOWARD -THE EGLAMORE PORTRAITS -A WINTER'S TALE -ONE ANOTHER'S BURDENS -OLIVIA'S SUMMER -PARISH OF HILBY -THE PARISH NURSE -ASTRAY IN ARCADY -A WIDOW WOMAN - - -*MARSH, RICHARD* - -THE GIRL AND THE MIRACLE -THE COWARD BEHIND THE CURTAIN -THE SURPRISING HUSBAND -A ROYAL INDISCRETION -LIVE MEN'S SHOES - - -*MARSHALL, ARCHIBALD* - -MANY JUNES -THE SQUIRE'S DAUGHTER -THE ELDEST SON - - -*MASON, A. E. W.* - -CLEMENTINA - - -*MATHERS, HELEN* - -TALLY HO! -THE FERRYMAN - - -*MAUD, CONSTANCE ELISABETH* - -A DAUGHTER OF FRANCE - - -*MAUD, P.* - -THE EXPIATION OF JOHN COURT - - -*MAXWELL, W. B.* - -VIVIEN -THE RAGGED MESSENGER -THE GUARDED FLAME -ODD LENGTHS -THE COUNTESS OF MAYBURY -HILL RISE -FABULOUS FANCIES -THE REST CURE - - -*MEADE, L. T.* - -DRIFT -VICTORY -RESURGAM - - -*MERRICK, L.* - -ALL THE WORLD WONDERED - - -*MILNE, A. A.* - -THE DAY'S PLAY - - -*MITFORD, BERTRAM* - -THE SIGN OF THE SPIDER -THE RED DERELICT - - -*MORRISON, ARTHUR* - -TALES OF MEAN STREETS -A CHILD OF THE JAGO -TO LONDON TOWN -THE HOLE IN THE WALL -DIVERS VANITIES - - -*NESBIT, E.* - -DORMANT - - -*HICKLIN, CONSTANCE* - -THE HOUR AND THE WOMAN - - -*NOBLE, EDWARD* - -LORDS OF THE SEA - - -*NORMAN, MRS. GEORGE* - -LADY FANNY -DELPHINE CARFREY - - -*OLLIVANT, ALFRED* - -OWD BOB -THE TAMING OF JOHN BLUNT - - -*ONIONS, OLIVER* - -THE EXCEPTION -GOOD BOY SELDOM - - -*OPPENHEIM, E. PHILLIPS* - -MASTER OF MEN -THE MISSING DELORA - - -*OSBOURNE, LLOYD* - -THE KINGDOMS OF THE WORLD - - -*OXENHAM, JOHN* - -A WEAVER OF WEBS -THE GATE OF THE DESERT -PROFIT AND LOSS -THE LONG ROAD -THE SONG OF HYACINTH -MY LADY OF SHADOWS -LAURISTONS -THE COIL OF CARNE - - -*PAIN, BARRY* - -LINDLEY KAYS -THE GIFTED FAMILY -THE EXILES OF FALOO -HERE AND HEREAFTER - - -*PARKER, GILBERT* - -THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD -WHEN VALMOND CAME TO PONTIAC -AN ADVENTURER OF THE NORTH -PIERRE AND HIS PEOPLE -MRS. FALCHION -THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY -THE POMP OF THE LAVILETTES -THE BATTLE OF THE STRONG -THE TRANSLATION OF A SAVAGE -NORTHERN LIGHTS - - -*PATTERSON, J. E.* - -WATCHERS BY THE SHORE - - -*PEMBERTON, MAX* - -THE FOOTSTEPS OF A THRONE -I CROWN THEE KING -LOVE THE HARVESTER -THE MYSTERY OF THE GREEN HEART - - -*PERRIN, ALICE* - -THE CHARM - - -*PHILLPOTTS, EDEN* - -SONS OF THE MORNING -CHILDREN OF THE MIST -LYING PROPHETS -THE RIVER -THE HUMAN BOY -THE AMERICAN PRISONER -THE SECRET WOMAN -THE POACHER'S WIFE -THE PORTREEVE -THE STRIKING HOURS -THE FOLK AFIELD -DEMETER'S DAUGHTER - - -*PICKTHILL, MARMADUKE* - -SAID THE FISHERMAN -BRENDLE -THE HOUSE OF ISLAM - - -*Q.* - -THE MAYOR OF TROY -MERRY GARDEN -MAJOR VIGOUREUX - - -*QUERIDO, ISRAEL* - -TOIL OF MEN - - -*RAWSON, MAUD STEPNEY* - -THE ENCHANTED GARDEN -THE EASY GO LUCKIES -HAPPINESS -SPLENDID ZIPPORAH - - -*RHYS, GRACE* - -THE BRIDE - - -*RIDGE, W. PETT* - -A SON OF THE STATE -THE WICKHAMSES -NAME OF GARLAND -SPLENDID BROTHER -ERB -MRS. GALER'S BUSINESS -NINE TO SIX-THIRTY -THANKS TO SANDERSON - - -*ROBINS, ELIZABETH* - -THE CONVERT - - -*RUSSELL, W. CLARK* - -MY DANISH SWEETHEART -HIS ISLAND PRINCESS -ABANDONED - - -*SHEERING, HERBERT* - -GOPI - - -*SIDGWICK, MRS. ALFRED* - -THE KINSMAN -THE SEVERINS -THE LANTERN BEARERS -ANTHEA'S GUEST - - -*SOMERVILLE, E. OE., & MARTIN ROSS* - -DAN RUSSEL THE FOX - - -*STONE, LOUIS* - -JONAH - - -*SWAYNE, MARTIN* - -LORD RICHARD IN THE PANTRY - - -*THURSTON, E. TEMPLE* - -MIRAGE - - -*VAN VORST, MARIE* - -THE ADVENTURES OF JIMMY BULSTRODE -IN AMBUSH - - -*WAINEMAN, PAUL* - -THE WIFE OF NICHOLAS FLEMING -THE SONG OF FOREST -THE BAY OF LILACS - - -*WATSON, H. B. MARRIOTT* - -A MIDSUMMER DAY'S DREAM -THE PRIVATEERS -A POPPY SHOW -THE FLOWER OF THE HEART -THE CASTLE BY THE SEA -TWISTED EGLANTINE -THE HIGH TOBY -ALISE OF ASTRA -AT A VENTURE - - -*WEBLING, PEGGY* - -VIRGINIA PERFECT -A SPIRIT OF MIRTH - - -*WELLS, H. G.* - -THE SEA LADY - - -*WEYMAN, STANLEY J.* - -UNDER THE RED ROBE - - -*WHITBY, BEATRICE* - -THE RESULT OF AN ACCIDENT -ROSAMUND - - -*WHITE, EDMUND* - -THE HEART OF HINDUSTAN - - -*WHITE, PERCY* - -THE PATIENT MAN -LOVE AND THE WISE MEN -THE LOST HALO - - -*WIGRAM, EIRENE* - -THE AFFAIR OF THE ENVELOPE - - -*WILLIAMSON, Mrs. C. N.* - -THE ADVENTURE OF PRINCESS SYLVIA -PAPA -THE WOMAN WHO DARED -THE SEA COULD TELL -THE CASTLE OF THE SHADOWS - - -*WILLIAMSON, C. N. and A. M.* - -THE LIGHTNING CONDUCTOR -THE PRINCESS PASSES -MY FRIEND THE CHAUFFEUR -LADY BETTY ACROSS THE WATER -THE CAR OF DESTINY -THE BOTOR CHAPERON -SCARLET RUNNER -SET IN SILVER -LORD LOVELAND DISCOVERS AMERICA -THE GOLDEN SILENCE - - -*WYLLARDE, DOLF* - -THE PATHWAY OF THE PIONEER -THE UNOFFICIAL HONEYMOON - - - - - - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GOD AND THE KING *** - - - - -A Word from Project Gutenberg - - -We will update this book if we find any errors. - -This book can be found under: http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/42521 - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one -owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and -you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission -and without paying copyright royalties. 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