She did not speak, so I asked, “Do you not, Betty?”

“No,” she answered, shaking her head dolefully.  But I knew she did not tell the truth.

Presently she asked.  “Do you want to see Master Hamilton?”

I answered that I did, and she said I might go to the printing shop, where she was sure I should find him.

She rose and started toward the door.  I called to her, but she did not stop, so I ran after her, saying:—­

“Have I offended you, Betty?”

“No,” she answered, drooping her head.  “But I am very unhappy, and I want to be alone so that I may cry.  You know it is much harder to forego the thing one wants but may not take, than it is to do without the thing one wants but cannot take.  Yearning for the impossible brings longing, for the possible anguish.”

And I remained silent, almost hating myself.

I went to the tap-room with Betty, and the courtyard being vacant for a moment, I ran across and down the steps to see Hamilton.

I had tried to see Frances that morning at Whitehall, but failed, being told that she had gone to visit her father.  I had stopped at Sir Richard’s house, but Frances was not there, and I half suspected I might find her with Hamilton.

I found Hamilton at his printing-press, and after I had told him of the risk he ran by remaining in London, he said:—­

“I have been making an honest living from my News Letter and am sorry to give it up, but I fear trouble will come very soon if I continue to publish it.  The king has a score of human bloodhounds seeking me.  It is rather odd, isn’t it, to hear a man of the house of Hamilton talking about making money by work, but of all the money I have ever touched, that which I have made honestly from the News Letter has been the sweetest.  The work has been a delight to me, even aside from the fact that it gives me an opportunity to abuse the king.  Lilly tells me that the king asked him to consult the stars concerning my threats against the royal life.  The result was favorable to me.”

“It is strange that the king should be duped by a palpable humbug,” I remarked, supposing that George would agree with me.  But, no!  He turned on me almost fiercely:—­

“Lilly is not a humbug!  Of course he humbugs the king, but everybody does.  I have known him to do some wonderful things by the help of his astrological figures, conjunctions, constellations, and calculations.”

“Nonsense!  All humbug, I tell you!” I asserted, somewhat disgusted.

“No, it is not all nonsense,” he insisted.  “A poor woman lost a sum of money ten days ago.  Lilly set a figure and told her where to find it.”

“And of course she found it?” I inquired incredulously.

“Yes, she found it,” returned George.  “And Lilly would not accept a farthing for his service.  Two months ago a child was stolen from its home in Devonshire, and the parents came all the way to London to consult Lilly.”