And very soon a crowd had collected.
“The Queen has made a prisoner of the Princess!” was the comment.
“For what reason?”
“Because she is a wicked Catholic and knows the Princess is a good Protestant.”
“Shall we stand aside and allow this Italian to harm our English Princess?”
“By God no! We’ll pull Whitehall to pieces to find where she is hidden!”
The news spread through the City and soon people were verging on Whitehall from all quarters. The foreigner would have to be shown that she could not harm their Princess.
Madam,
I beg your pardon if I am so deeply affected with the surprising news of my husband’s being gone, as not to be able to see you, but to leave this paper to express my humble duty to the King and yourself and to let you know that I am gone to absent myself to avoid the King’s displeasure, which I am not able to bear, either against the Prince or myself, and I shall stay at so great a distance as not to return until I hear the happy news of a reconcilement; and as I am confident that the Prince did not leave the King with any other design than to use all possible means for his preservation, so I hope you will do me the justice to believe that I am incapable of following him for any other end. Never was anyone in such an unhappy condition, so divided between duty to a father and to a husband, and therefore I know not what I must do but to follow one to preserve the other. I see the general falling off of the nobility and gentry who avow to have no other end than to prevail with the King to secure their religion, which they saw so much in danger from the violent councils of the priests, who, to promote their own religion, did not care to what dangers they exposed the King. I am fully persuaded that the Prince of Orange designs the King’s safety and preservation and hope all things may be composed without bloodshed by the calling of a Parliament.
God grant a happy end to these troubles and that the King’s reign may be prosperous and that I may shortly meet you in perfect peace and safety till when, let me beg of you to continue the same favorable opinion that you have hitherto had of your most obedient daughter and servant.
Anne.
This letter was immediately published that riots might be averted.
It was a letter, said the people, of a dutiful daughter and a devoted wife. How good was the Princess when compared with her dissolute father!
The mob dispersed. The Queen should not be molested.
But the people were more firmly than ever behind Protestant William, Mary and Anne.
Anne! His beloved daughter. She was the only one to whom he could turn for comfort. At least he had his younger daughter. He had been deeply wounded by Mary’s coolness; but he told himself it was understandable. She had been away from home for so long and was completely under her husband’s influence; her choice had been between husband and father and she had chosen her husband. Yet once she had been his favorite child.
But there was still Anne. He smiled lovingly. She would always remember the closeness of their relationship. To whom had she come when she needed help? Always to her father because she knew that there she would find it.
Her husband had deserted him—but he was a weak fellow and never of much account. It would be different with Anne. When he was with his daughter he would be rejuvenated; together they would stand against his enemies.
As he came near to London he said: “I shall go first to the Queen and then to the Cockpit.”
He found Mary Beatrice in a state of great anxiety and terror that the mob would rise against her as they had when they believed she had abducted the Princess.
Unceremoniously she threw herself into her husband’s arms and wept while she embraced him and told him how happy she was to see him alive.
“We are surrounded by traitors,” she informed him.
“All will be well,” he replied. “I am going to see Anne and we will talk of this together.”
“Anne!” cried Mary Beatrice. “Did you not know then?”
“Know?” The fear was obvious in his voice and eyes.
“She has gone, like all the others,” said Mary Beatrice passionately. “She like all the others is against you.” He stared at her and she went on passionately: “You don’t believe it. You have blinded yourself. She and Sarah Churchill have long been your enemies. They are for Mary and Orange. She has forgotten her father because she does not want my son to have the crown which she hopes one day will be hers.”
“It cannot be true,” whispered James.
“Is it not? She has flown from the Cockpit. She has gone to join her husband, she says. She has gone to join
James sank on to a stool and looked at his boots; then slowly the tears began to form in his eyes.
