ift for himself.

There was a quarter of an hour which seemed many hours of fearful
suspense, while King and Queen both knelt at their altar, praying in
agony for the child whom they pictured to themselves in the hands of
the infuriated mob, too much persuaded of his being an imposture to
pity his unconscious innocence. No one who saw the blanched cheeks
and agonised face of Mary Beatrice, or James's stern, mute misery,
could have believed for a moment in the cruel delusion that he was
no child of theirs.

The Roman Catholic women were with them. To enter the oratory would
in those circumstances have been a surrender of principle, but none
the less did Anne pray with fervent passion in her chamber for pity
for the child, and comfort for his parents. At last there was a
stir, and hurrying out to the great stair, Anne saw a man in plain
clothes replying in an Irish accent to the King, who was supporting
the Queen with his arm. Happily the escort had missed the Prince of
Wales. They had been obliged to turn back to London without meeting
him, and from that danger he had been saved.

A burst of tears and a cry of fervent thanksgiving relieved the
Queen's heart, and James gave eager thanks instead of the reprimand
the colonel had expected for his blundering.

A little later, another messenger brought word that Lord and Lady
Powys had halted at Guildford with their charge. A French
gentleman, Monsieur de St. Victor, was understood to have undertaken
to bring him to London--understood--for everything was whispered
rather than told among the panic-stricken women. No one who knew
the expectation could go to bed that night except that the King and
Queen had--in order to disarm suspicion--to go through the
accustomed ceremonies of the coucher. The ladies sat or lay on
their beds intently listening, as hour after hour chimed from the
clocks.

At last, at about three in the morning, the challenge of the
sentinels was heard from point to point. Every one started up, and
hurried almost pell-mell towards the postern door. The King and
Queen were both descending a stair leading from the King's dressing-
room, and as the door was cautiously opened, it admitted a figure in
a fur cloak, which he unfolded, and displayed the sleeping face of
the infant well wrapped from the December cold.

With rapture the Queen gathered him into her arms, and the father
kissed him with a vehemence that made him awake and cry. St. Victor