Jane was transported with joy.

“Ay, ay,” said the grandmother, “look at you now, and think how crazy you were to go to the palace, though ’twas always against my judgment.”

“Ah, I little knew how mortal dull it would be!” said Jane.

“Ye’ve found it no better than the husks that the swine did eat, eh?  So much the better and safer for your soul, child.”

Nobody wanted to retain Jane, and while she was hastily putting her things together, the grandmother turned to Anne:  “And you, Mistress Woodford, from what I hear, you have been very good in keeping my silly child stanch to her religion and true to her duty.  If ever on a pinch you needed a friend in London, my son and I would be proud to serve you—­Master Joshua Humphreys, at the Golden Lamb, Gracechurch Street, mind you.  No one knows what may hap in these strange and troublesome times, and you might be glad of a house to go to till you can send to your own friends—­that is, if we are not all murdered by the Papists first.”

Though Anne did not expect such a catastrophe as this, she was really grateful for the offer, and thought it possible that she might avail herself of it, as she had not been able to communicate with any of her mother’s old friends, and Bishop Ken was not to her knowledge still in London.

She watched anxiously for the opportunity of asking Lady Strickland whether she might apply for her dismissal, and write to her uncle to fetch her home.

“Child,” said the lady, “I think you love the Queen.”

“Indeed I do, madam.”

“It is well that at this juncture all Protestants should not leave her.  You are a gentlewoman in manner, and can speak her native tongue, friends are falling from her, scarcely ladies are left enough to make a fit appearance around her; if you are faithful to her, remain, I entreat of you.”

There was no resisting such an appeal, and Anne remained in the rooms now left bare and empty, until a message was brought to her to come to the Queen.  Mary Beatrice sat in a chair by her fire, looking sad and listless, her eyes red with weeping, but she gave her sweet smile as the girl entered, and held out her hand, saying in her sweet Italian, “You are faithful, Signorina Anna! you remain!  That is well; but now my son is gone, Anna, you must be mine.  I make you my reader instead of his rocker.”

As Anne knelt on one knee to kiss hands with tears in her eyes, the Queen impulsively threw her arms round her neck and kissed her.  “Ah, you loved him, and he loved you, il mio tesorino?”

Promotion had come—­how strangely.  She had to enter on her duties at once, and to read some chapters of an Italian version of the Imitation.  A reader was of a higher grade of importance than a rocker, and for the ensuing days, when not in attendance on the Queen, Anne was the companion of Lady Strickland and Lady Oglethorpe.  In the absence of the King and Prince, the Queen received Princess Anne at her own table, and Lady Churchill and Lady Fitzhardinge joined that of her ladies-in-waiting.