This confession convinced the angry duchess that she had been a subject of discussion, and she became more indignant {463}than ever to think that so humble a person as her cousin Abigail should presume to speak with her majesty about so high and mighty a creature as herself. She determined to give the young woman a sound rating, but changed her mind, and wrote her an angry, undignified letter instead. But Sarah of Marlborough was not particularly well educated, and made as grave blunders as did her majesty in her attempts at letter-writing. Mrs. Masham, on the other hand, was a woman of talent, and wrote so well in reply as not only to astonish her correspondent, but to convince her that with the pen, at least, she was far her superior, and a person who could ably defend herself against any attack made on paper. Perhaps it would have been well had she explained the accident that caused the queen to overhear the duchess express her loathing and hatred of herself the day when she had put on the gloves by mistake. Abigail Masham might have written, "It was your shameful ingratitude, your offensive remarks, that changed her majesty's heart towards you;" but the secret was not hers, and there is no evidence of her having betrayed her royal mistress all the while she served her. The queen's unwise consent to witness the secret marriage between Abigail Hill and Samuel Masham was all the proof the Duchess of Marlborough needed that she had been supplanted in the royal favor, and from that moment whatever change she observed she laid at the door of her successor. Some one has very wisely said of Mrs. Masham's turning her back on the duchess: "She was her near relative, and the defect of base ingratitude seems to run in her family. The duchess should have chosen her watch-dog on the queen, when she became too grand or too indolent to perform that needful office, from a better breed." {464}Previous to her majesty's removal to Windsor for the summer, a very odd circumstance occurred, which we will leave the duchess and her wrangling for awhile to relate. It is about Prince Matveof, ambassador of Peter the Great of Russia. Having been recalled to Russia, the prince attended the queen's levee for the purpose of taking formal leave of her. No sooner had he left the palace than he was arrested for debt on a writ of Mr. Morton, lace dealer of Covent Garden, and locked up in the bailiff's house. The noble Russian had fought desperately, without seeming to understand why he was seized, and wounded several of the bailiff's men quite seriously. The next day the bill of fifty pounds was paid, and the matter explained; but, as the prince had not had the slightest intention of defrauding the tradesman, he was justly indignant, and left England thoroughly disgusted. When he got home the czar resented the indignity offered to his ambassador by putting a stop to intercourse of trade, adding a threat of declaration of war. Queen