kissed it, and called him her preserver and her dear. _She_ wasn't
thinking of queens and crowns.

The bishop's news was reassuring: at least all was not lost; the queen yet
breathed or was alive when they left London, six hours since. ("It was
Lady Castlewood who insisted on coming," the doctor said;) Argyle had
marched up regiments from Portsmouth, and sent abroad for more; the Whigs
were on the alert, a pest on them (I am not sure but the bishop swore as
he spoke), and so too were our people. And all might be saved, if only the
prince could be at London in time. We called for horses, instantly to
return to London. We never went up poor crestfallen Boniface's stairs, but
into our coaches again. The prince and his prime minister in one, Esmond
in the other, with only his dear mistress as a companion.

Castlewood galloped forwards on horseback to gather the prince's friends,
and warn them of his coming. We travelled through the night. Esmond
discoursing to his mistress of the events of the last twenty-four hours;
of Castlewood's ride and his; of the prince's generous behaviour and their
reconciliation. The night seemed short enough; and the starlit hours
passed away serenely in that fond company.

So we came along the road; the bishop's coach heading ours; and, with some
delays in procuring horses, we got to Hammersmith about four o'clock on
Sunday morning, the first of August, and half an hour after, it being then
bright day, we rode by my Lady Warwick's house, and so down the street of
Kensington.

Early as the hour was, there was a bustle in the street, and many people
moving to and fro. Round the gate leading to the palace, where the guard
is, there was especially a great crowd. And the coach ahead of us stopped,
and the bishop's man got down to know what the concourse meant?

There presently came from out of the gate: Horse Guards with their
trumpets, and a company of heralds with their tabards. The trumpets blew,
and the herald-at-arms came forward and proclaimed GEORGE, by the grace of
God, of Great Britain, France, and Ireland, King, Defender of the Faith.
And the people shouted, "God save the King!"

Among the crowd shouting and waving their hats, I caught sight of one sad
face, which I had known all my life, and seen under many disguises. It was
no other than poor Mr. Holt's, who had slipped over to England to witness
the triumph of the good cause; and now beheld its enemies victorious,
amidst the acclam