n the
throng--all those whose delight is to trample upon the fallen--and from
all sides there arose a storm of jeers and execrations, and it was as if
she was in the midst of a frantic bellowing herd eager to gore and
trample her to death. And these were the same people that a few short
years ago would rush out from their houses to gaze with pride and
delight at her, their beautiful queen, and applaud her to the echo
whenever she appeared at their gates! Now, better than ever before, she
realised the change of feeling towards her from affectionate loyalty to
abhorrence, and drained to the last bitterest dregs the cup of shame and
humiliation.

With trembling hand she turned her horse round, and bending her ashen
white face low rode slowly out of the crowd, her men close to her on
either side, threatening with their swords those that pressed nearest
and followed in their retreat by shouts and jeers. But when well out of
sight and sound of the people she dismounted and sat down on the turf to
rest and consider what was to be done. By and by a mounted man was seen
coming from Salisbury at a fast gallop. He came with a letter and
message to the queen from an aged nobleman, one she had known in former
years at court. He informed her that he owned a large house at or near
Amesbury which he could not now use on account of his age and
infirmities, which compelled him to remain in Salisbury. This house she
might occupy for as long as she wished to remain in the neighbourhood.
He had received permission from the governor of the town to offer it to
her, and the only condition was that she must not return to Salisbury.

There was thus one friend left to the reviled and outcast queen--this
aged dying man!

Once more she set forth with the messenger as guide, and about set of
sun arrived at the house, which was to be her home for the next two to
three years, in this darkest period of her life. Yet she could not have
found a habitation and surroundings more perfectly suited to her wants
and the mood she was in. The house, which was large enough to
accommodate all her people, was on the west side of the Avon, a quarter
of a mile below Amesbury and two to three hundred yards distant from the
river bank, and was surrounded by enclosed land with gardens and
orchards, the river itself forming the boundary on one side. Here was
the perfect seclusion she desired: here she could spend her hours and
days as she ever loved to do in the open