Part 27 (2/2)
”And never told!” cried the babble of voices.
”Come hither, Mistress Woodford,” said the Queen. ”Tell me, do you know where Her Highness is?”
”No, please your Majesty,” said Anne, trembling from head to foot.
”I do not know where she is.”
”Did you know of her purpose?”
”Your Majesty pardon me. She called me to her closet yesterday and pledged me to secrecy before I knew what she would say.”
”Only youthful inexperience will permit that pledge to be implied in matters of State,” said the Queen. ”Continue, Mistress Woodford; what did she tell you?”
”She said she feared to be made a hostage for the Prince of Denmark, and meant to escape, and she bade me come to her chamber at night to go with her.”
”And wherefore did you not? You are of her religion,” said the Queen bitterly.
”Madam, how could I break mine oath to your Majesty and His Royal Highness?”
”And you thought concealing the matter according to that oath? Nay, nay, child, I blame you not. It was a hard strait between your honour to her and your duty to the King and to me, and I cannot but be thankful to any one who does regard her word. But this desertion will be a sore grief to His Majesty.”
Mary Beatrice was fairer-minded than the women, who looked askance at the girl, Princess Anne's people resenting that one of the other household should have been chosen as confidante, and the Queen's being displeased that the secret had been kept. But at that moment frightful yells and shouts arose, and a hasty glance from the windows showed a ma.s.s of men, women, and children howling for their Princess. They would tear down Whitehall if she were not delivered up to them. However, a line of helmeted Life-guards on their heavy horses was drawn up between, with sabres held upright, and there seemed no disposition to rush upon these. Lord Clarendon, uncle to the Princess, had satisfied himself that she had really escaped, and he now came out and a.s.sured the mob, in a stentorian voice, that he was perfectly satisfied of his niece's safety, waving the letter she had left on her toilet-table.
The mob shouted, ”Bless the Princess! Hurrah for the Protestant faith! No warming-pans!” but in a good-tempered mood; and the poor little garrison breathed more freely; but Anne did not feel herself forgiven. She was in a manner sent to Coventry, and treated as if she were on the enemy's side. Never had her proud nature suffered so much, and she shed bitter tears as she said to herself, ”It is very unjust! What could I have done? How could I stop Her Highness from speaking? Could they expect me to run in and accuse her? Oh, that I were at home again! Mother, mother, you little know! Of what use am I now?”
It was the very question asked by Hester Bridgeman, whom she found packing her clothes in her room.
”Take care that this is sent after me,” she said, ”when a messenger I shall send calls for it.”
”What, you have your dismissal?”
”No, I should no more get it than you have done. They cannot afford to let any one go, you see, or they will have to dress up the chambermaids to stand behind the Queen's chair. I have settled it with my cousin, Harry Bridgeman, I shall mix with the throng that come to ask for news, and be off with him before the crowd breaks in, as they will some of these days, for the guards are but half- hearted. My Portia, why did not you take a good offer, and go with the Princess?”
”I thought it would be base.”
”And much you gained by it! You are only suspected and accused.”
”I can't be a rat leaving a sinking s.h.i.+p.”
”That is courteous, but I forgive it, Portia, as I know you will repent of your folly. But you never did know which side to look for the b.u.t.ter.”
Perhaps seeing how ugly desertion and defection looked in others made constancy easier to Anne, much as she longed for the Close at Winchester, and she even thought with a hope of the Golden Lamb, Gracechurch, as an immediate haven sure to give her a welcome.
Her occupation of reading to the Queen was ended by the King's return, so physically exhausted by violent nose-bleeding, so despondent at the universal desertion, and so broken-hearted at his daughter's defection, that his wife was absorbed in attending upon him.
Anne began to watch for an opportunity to demand a dismissal, which she thought would exempt her from all blame, but she was surprised and a little dismayed by being summoned to the King in the Queen's chamber. He was lying on a couch clad in a loose dressing-gown instead of his laced coat, and a red night-cap replacing his heavy peruke, and his face was as white and sallow as if he were recovering from a long illness.
”Little G.o.dchild,” he said, holding out his hand as Anne made her obeisance, ”the Queen tells me you can read well. I have a fancy to hear.”
<script>