“A traitor too!” said Lady Oglethorpe, in her vehement Irish tone.  “I would not have thought it of Nanny Moore’s daughter!” and she turned her eyes in sad reproach on Anne.

“If you know, tell me where she is gone,” cried Mrs. Buss, and the cry was re-echoed by the other women, while Anne’s startled “I cannot tell!  I do not know!” was unheeded.

Only the Queen raising her hand gravely said, “Silence!  What is this?”

“Miss Woodford knew.”

“And never told!” cried the babble of voices.

“Come hither, Mistress Woodford,” said the Queen.  “Tell me, do you know where Her Highness is?”

“No, please your Majesty,” said Anne, trembling from head to foot.  “I do not know where she is.”

“Did you know of her purpose?”

“Your Majesty pardon me.  She called me to her closet yesterday and pledged me to secrecy before I knew what she would say.”

“Only youthful inexperience will permit that pledge to be implied in matters of State,” said the Queen.  “Continue, Mistress Woodford; what did she tell you?”

“She said she feared to be made a hostage for the Prince of Denmark, and meant to escape, and she bade me come to her chamber at night to go with her.”

“And wherefore did you not?  You are of her religion,” said the Queen bitterly.

“Madam, how could I break mine oath to your Majesty and His Royal Highness?”

“And you thought concealing the matter according to that oath?  Nay, nay, child, I blame you not.  It was a hard strait between your honour to her and your duty to the King and to me, and I cannot but be thankful to any one who does regard her word.  But this desertion will be a sore grief to His Majesty.”

Mary Beatrice was fairer-minded than the women, who looked askance at the girl, Princess Anne’s people resenting that one of the other household should have been chosen as confidante, and the Queen’s being displeased that the secret had been kept.  But at that moment frightful yells and shouts arose, and a hasty glance from the windows showed a mass of men, women, and children howling for their Princess.  They would tear down Whitehall if she were not delivered up to them.  However, a line of helmeted Life-guards on their heavy horses was drawn up between, with sabres held upright, and there seemed no disposition to rush upon these.  Lord Clarendon, uncle to the Princess, had satisfied himself that she had really escaped, and he now came out and assured the mob, in a stentorian voice, that he was perfectly satisfied of his niece’s safety, waving the letter she had left on her toilet-table.

The mob shouted, “Bless the Princess!  Hurrah for the Protestant faith!  No warming-pans!” but in a good-tempered mood; and the poor little garrison breathed more freely; but Anne did not feel herself forgiven.  She was in a manner sent to Coventry, and treated as if she were on the enemy’s side.  Never had her proud nature suffered so much, and she shed bitter tears as she said to herself, “It is very unjust!  What could I have done?  How could I stop Her Highness from speaking?  Could they expect me to run in and accuse her?  Oh, that I were at home again!  Mother, mother, you little know!  Of what use am I now?”