ing had
time to examine the contents of the bags, was loath she should see the
King ere he had done so.

Katherine, seeing that Constance' lips were blue and her face pale,
and forgetting her ladyship's evil ways, agreed they should stop at
the first inn and there lie until the next morning; Janet having
declared privately to her mistress that she should not waste any time
with her ladyship.

Though the night was black and the road uncertain, yet they maintained
a fair pace over the open downs, having left the shadowy trees behind;
but there were no lights ahead and the prospects of getting shelter
for the night were dubitable.

Constance became more and more impatient, pulling up the window every
few minutes to inquire if any lights were to be seen, each time
letting in a shower of rain that deluged her dress. This dampness was
soon felt by her ladyship, whose temper could hardly keep her warm,
and she called for blankets. There were none. At this knowledge she
grew worse, and cried that she was in a chill and must have aid from
somewhere.

For a truth, her teeth were chattering and her hands were cold, but
it was nothing but mimosis brought on by the evil caldron that boiled
within her wicked body. She had heard Buckingham tell Katherine that
the King would be gone from Whitehall if they were delayed. Her plans
were now made, and this sudden illness was a ruse to detain the maid.
No, she must not see the King. She must now, first of all, become
Monmouth's mistress, then Cedric in his wild despair would turn again
to her; his playfellow, his old love, Constance.

Whether the postilion were in their master's confidence or not is not
certain, but just before midnight they plunged into a narrow, miry
road that traversed wastes and low coppices; the plash of the horses'
feet showed the tract to be marshy and full of pools. Her ladyship
looked out across the dreary fen and exclaimed,--

"I'll be damned, they have set us out like ducks!" At her words
Katherine drew from her with disgust. It was the first she had heard
her swear; but she had not yet seen her true nature.

On a sudden the chaise made a lunge and stopped in a deep rut. Some
one plodded laboriously to the door and thrust in a rain-soaked
visage, saying,--

"Their Graces beg your patience, as we cannot move until help comes.
There is a light ahead, and we hope to get on directly."

It was hours, however, before the lumbering equipages were pried out