“It is too late,” interrupted the Queen impatiently—“it is now too late. Urge me no more, Sir Ambrose, or you will drive me to despair.”
Sir Ambrose was provoked with her obstinacy, and a pause ensued, which was broken by a tumultuous noise and shouting. It was the people at the gates of the palace, who, impatient at the length of Sir Ambrose’s stay, were now becoming clamorous for an answer.
“What shall I say to them?” asked the baronet.
“Tell them I deny their suit!” replied the Queen. “Away, away, away! I would be quiet; go without reply; I will hear no more; I will not be tormented:” and waving her hand for him to depart, she hurried to her chamber. Finding there was no alternative, Sir Ambrose was compelled to appear before the people, and acquaint them with the will of their Sovereign. The tumult became more violent as he spoke. An English mob is proverbially impetuous; and now their rage rose beyond control. “The Queen! the Queen!” they shouted; “we will see the Queen!” The crowd increased every moment—the multitude heaved in tremendous waves like the rolling billows of the sea, and the hum of thousands of human voices filled the air. They threatened to storm the palace. A man in complete armour, his face entirely concealed by his visor, headed their attempts; the outer gates were forced, and the throng rushed tumultuously into the court of the palace.
All there was confusion: soldiers might have been summoned, and the place defended; but there was no one to give orders; and the servants ran to and fro in the greatest possible distress, without knowing either where they were going, or what they intended doing. In the midst of this bustle, Elvira sat burying her face in her hands, and obstinately refusing to take the slightest interest in the scene. The door opened violently, and Sir Ambrose and some of her principal servants rushed in. “For God’s sake, save yourself!” cried they. “If your Majesty were safe, we care not for ourselves.”
“Fly!” cried Sir Ambrose, throwing himself upon his knees before her, his white hair streaming almost to the ground; “for God’s sake, fly!” It was too late, however, then, had the Queen been disposed to obey him; for, as he spoke, the outer door burst open with tremendous violence; the palace seemed to shake to its foundation with the shock; and in an instant the chamber was filled by the infuriated populace.
“Seize the Queen, but do not injure her!” cried a voice that thrilled through every nerve of Sir Ambrose. “Spare the old man; do not hurt a hair of his head.” Sir Ambrose looked up; the voice came from the man in armour; but it was the voice of Edmund. A crowd of overwhelming thoughts rushed through his mind, and, overpowered by their weight, he sank senseless upon the ground. “Take him away!” cried Edmund; (for it was indeed he;) “take him away! but see that ye hurt him not: he dies that injures him.”
“Edmund!” cried Elvira, struck also by his voice—
“To prison with her!” exclaimed he.
“To prison, Edmund! do you doom your Queen to prison? Is it thus you treat your Sovereign?”
“I own no Sovereign here but Rosabella.”
“But by what right can she be called your Sovereign?”
“By that which made you Queen—the voice of the people. It lies with them to crown or to dethrone!”
“Oh Edmund! mercy!”
“Away with her! I’ll hear no more.”
The guards seized upon the unfortunate Elvira, and, in spite of her entreaties, hurried her away. Edmund did not trust himself to look at her. For a moment he hid his face in his hands; then rousing himself, he exclaimed, “Now to proclaim the Queen!” The people followed him with shouts of applause, and before evening Edmund and Rosabella were unanimously acknowledged as King and Queen of England.
XXX
Notwithstanding the able manner in which the revolution had been effected, England was still in a state of tumult. Though the army had been seduced by the example of Edmund, and the people had been obliged to submit, they were by no means perfectly satisfied with their new government; and Rosabella found, too late, that though the throne might be compared to a bed of roses, it was not without its thorns. The discontented nobles who had aided her cause were also extremely displeased by what they called the trifling value of the rewards bestowed upon them; though, in fact, they rated their services so high, that Rosabella found her whole kingdom did not possess the power of repaying them to their satisfaction. It was also a considerable grievance of these haughty nobles to see Prince Ferdinand return to the English Court immediately after the dethronement of Elvira, and be received with open arms by Rosabella, who, with the anxiety to conciliate the friendship of foreign powers, usually displayed by those whose thrones feel far from secure at home, loaded him with favours, and even gave him a post of honour in the command of her own bodyguard.
Whilst the unreasonableness of her people thus embittered Rosabella’s political life, her domestic happiness seemed to rest upon a yet more unstable foundation. She knew that though she possessed Edmund’s hand, his
