That was checkmate indeed to Charles who swore all manner of things in
his mortification. But it was not until some six weeks later that he
learnt by whose agency the thing had been accomplished. He learnt it,
not a doubt, from my Lady Castlemaine.

The estrangement between her ladyship and the King, which dated back to
the time of his desperate courtship of Miss Stewart, was at last
made up; and once again we see her ladyship triumphant, and firmly
established in the amorous King's affections. She had cause to
be grateful to the Chancellor for this. But her vindictive nature
remembered only the earlier injury still unavenged. Here at last was her
chance to pay off that score. Clarendon, beset by enemies on every hand,
yet trusting in the King whom he had served so well, stood his ground
unintimidated and unmoved--an oak that had weathered mightier storms
than this. He did not dream that he was in the power of an evil woman.
And that woman used her power. When all else failed, she told the King
of Clarendon's part in the flight of Miss Stewart, and lest the King
should be disposed to pardon the Chancellor out of consideration for his
motives, represented him as a self-seeker, and charged him with having
acted thus so as to make sure of keeping his daughter's children by the
Duke of York in the succession.

That was the end. Charles withdrew his protection, threw Clarendon to
the wolves. He sent the Duke of Albemarle to him with a command that he
should surrender his seals of office. The proud old man refused to yield
his seals to any but the King himself. He may have hoped that the memory
of all that lay between them would rise up once more when they were face
to face. So he came in person to Whitehall to make surrender. He walked
deliberately, firmly, and with head erect, through the hostile throng of
courtiers--"especially the buffoones and ladys of pleasure," as Evelyn
says.

Of his departure thence, his disgrace now consummated, Pepys has left us
a vivid picture:

"When he went from the King on Monday morning my Lady Castlemaine was
in bed (though about twelve o'clock), and ran out in her smock into her
aviary looking into Whitehall Gardens; and thither her woman brought her
her nightgown; and she stood, blessing herself at the old man's going
away; and several of the gallants of Whitehall--of which there were many
staying to see the Chancellor's return--did talk to her in her birdcage;
among others Blandford,