"I never meant to speak like this—but Your Highness is so gentle——" Mary smiled. "I must carry you to my Lady Argyll, Lady Balcarres that was, who is here with her daughters——" She turned swiftly, for the door opened, and a familiar voice behind her said eagerly her name—"Marie, Marie——" It was the Prince; as he entered he paused, seeing the Countess, who had instantly risen. "Lady Sunderland!" he exclaimed, before Mary could speak, and stood amazed. They had last seen each other on the occasion of the Prince’s last visit to England, and though he knew her at once he found her considerably changed. "The Earl hath fallen?" he added swiftly. Lady Sunderland was mistress of herself immediately on his appearance. By force of her long training she fell into the same manner she would have used to him at Whitehall or Windsor; she gave him a great courtly curtsy. "The Earl is a refugee at Amsterdam, Your Highness," she said, "and I am here beseeching charity." "Ah." William drew a quick breath. "I thought my lord was safe enough—the King discovered him?" "No, sir, the Catholics unseated him." The Prince crossed slowly to the fire. "So," he said slowly—"well, Madam, the Earl is safe in Amsterdam, and the Princess will make you welcome." A flush of reviving hope kindled the refugee’s pale cheek. "We are assured of the gracious protection of Your Highness?" she asked ardently. "My lord hath done me considerable service," answered William. "But, Madam, he is not loved by those English I have about me now." He smiled dryly. "Yet, if he will lie quiet awhile—I am not ungrateful——" "It is all we ask," said Lady Sunderland warmly. "My lord wisheth only to live in quiet obscurity unless he can serve Your Highness—some way——" William gave her a keen look. "I hardly think," he answered, "that M. de Sunderland is fitted for quiet obscurity—but perhaps he will endure it a little while. I leave for Helvoetsluys to-morrow." "God bless this noble enterprise Your Highness hath on hand!" cried the Countess fervently. "Could you see the crowds waiting outside Whitehall and a-studying the weather-cock and praying for a Protestant wind you would be heartened further in your daring!" The Prince took a swift look at his wife, who stood with averted face by the window. "The King—how took he the news?" he asked. "I heard that he was all bewildered (being then deeply engaged in the Cologne dispute and thinking nothing of this, like a man besotted) and would not part with the Declaration of Your Highness, but carried it about with him re-reading it—then he called the bishops to ask if they had put their hands to the invitation, and they gave him no—after which he made all manner of concessions, like one in a panic fear——" "Concessions?" interrupted the Prince.