“My lord,” she says, “was very anxious that a petition might be presented, hoping that it would at least be serviceable to me. I was in my own mind convinced that it would answer no purpose, but as I wished to please my lord, I desired him to have it drawn up, and I undertook to make it come to the King’s hand, notwithstanding all the precautions the King had taken to avoid it. So the first day I heard that the King was to go to the drawing-room, I dressed myself in black, as if I had been in mourning, and sent for Mrs. Morgan, the same who had accompanied me to the Tower, because, as I did not know his Majesty personally, I might have mistaken some other person for him. She stayed by me and told me when he was coming. I had also another lady with me, and we three remained in a room between the King’s apartments and the drawing-room, so that he was obliged to go through it, and as there were three windows in it, we sat in the middle one that I might have time enough to meet him before he could pass. I threw myself at his feet, and told him in French that I was the unfortunate Countess of Nithisdale, that he might not pretend to be ignorant of my person. But perceiving that he wanted to go on without receiving my petition, I caught hold of the skirt of his coat that he might stop and hear me. He endeavoured to escape out of my hands, but I kept such strong hold that he dragged me upon my knees from the middle of the room to the very door of the drawing-room. At last one of the blue ribbands who attended his Majesty took me round the waist, whilst another wrested the coat out of my hands. The petition which I had endeavoured to thrust into his pocket fell down in the scuffle, and I almost fainted away through grief and disappointment.”