if you
choose to be torn to pieces by the mob, and slaughtered by the
priests, like poor Godfrey, and burnt by the Papists at last, unless
you go to Mass, you may stay for aught I care, and joy go with you.
I thought I was doing you a kindness for my poor mother's sake, but
it seems you know best. If you like to cast in your lot with the
Pope, I wash my hands of you."

Accordingly Anne courtesied herself off, not seriously alarmed as to
the various catastrophes foretold by the Princess, though a little
shaken in nerves. Here then was another chance of promotion,
certainly without treason to her profession of faith, but so offered
that honour could not but revolt against it, though in truth poor
Princess Anne was neither so foolish nor so heartless a woman as she
appeared in the excitement to which an uneasy conscience, the
expectation of a great enterprise, and a certain amount of terror
had worked her up; but she had high words again in the evening, as
was supposed, with the Queen. Certainly Anne found her own Royal
Mistress weeping and agitated, though she only owned to being very
anxious about the health of the King, who had had a second violent
attack of bleeding at the nose, and she did not seem consoled by the
assurances of her elder attendants that the relief had probably
saved him from a far more dangerous attack. Again Anne read to her
till a late hour, but next morning was strangely disturbed.

The Royal household had not been long dressed, and breakfast had
just been served to the ladies, when loud screams were heard, most
startling in the unsettled and anxious state of affairs. The Queen,
pale and trembling, came out of her chamber with her hair on her
shoulders. "Tell me at once, for pity's sake. Is it my husband or
my son?" she asked with clasped hands, as two or three of the
Princess's servants rushed forward.

"The Princess, the Princess!" was the cry, "the priests have
murdered her."

"What have you done with her, madam?" rudely demanded Mrs. Buss, one
of the lost lady's nurses.

Mary Beatrice drew herself up with grave dignity, saying, "I suppose
your mistress is where she likes to be. I know nothing of her, but
I have no doubt that you will soon hear of her."

There was something in the Queen's manner that hushed the outcry in
her presence, but the women, with Lady Clarendon foremost of them,
continued to seek up and down the two palaces as if they thought the
substantial person of t