"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.