"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 Condé! 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.