pink of the cheeks had turned to scarlet; and the vague shortsighted eyes were filled with tears.
Sarah gathered her mistress into her arms.
“I am here to comfort you. I will never leave you.”
“Oh, my dearest Sarah, my beloved friend, what should I do without you?”
Sarah rocked the Princess in her arms. Tenderness did not come readily to her so it seemed doubly precious to Anne.
She wept bitterly; she would not be parted from Sarah day or night; they talked constantly of Mulgrave—of his beauty and virtues; and the Princess demanded again and again: “Who could have been so cruel as to have betrayed us?”
“It may be something Your Highness will never discover,” murmured Sarah.
Sarah was with Anne when she went along to look at the portrait of Charles King of Sweden. On horseback, the King was quite magnificent. Anne went close to peer at it.
“He is a very handsome man,” she said.
Sarah admitted it; and was uneasy. There was an air of authority about the figure. And Sweden! Who wanted to go to Sweden. Not John or Sarah Churchill.
Anne liked the portrait though. Sarah threw an impatient look at her, and said sharply: “It would seem, Madam, that you have already forgotten my Lord Mulgrave.”
“No, no, Sarah. I never, never shall.”
“But you like the look of this fellow?”
Anne began to laugh. How like Sarah to refer to the King of Sweden as “this fellow.”
“Sarah,” she said, “you’ll be the death of me!”
“If I can make my Princess smile I am happy.”
“Sarah, Sarah, what should I do without you? When you are there I feel I can endure anything .”
Sarah looked imperiously at the portrait. “Arrogant!” she summed up. “I think we could well do without this fellow in our lives!”
She had made Anne laugh again.
Already she had forgotten Mulgrave. But it would not be so easy to prevent the match with Sweden.
Luck was with Sarah. There was one other who was determined to prevent a marriage between Anne and Charles of Sweden; this was William of Orange, who saw no good to Holland coming from a union between Sweden and England. He expressed his disapproval to his uncle King Charles of England; and as, at that time, Charles wanted William’s friendship, he considered his objections.
But, as Charles pointed out to his brother James, there was need of haste. King Christiern of Denmark had a brother George who was marriageable and it seemed to him that this Prince George might be a desirable bridegroom.
“We have been friendly with Denmark for years,” he pointed out to James. “After all we have Danish blood through our grandmother. What more natural than that Anne should marry this kinsman?”
“We could have a look at him,” agreed James.
“Certainly there can be no harm in looking.”
“I do not want to see her unhappy … as Mary was.”
“Very well. We will invite George over here, have a look at him, and throw the young couple together—”
“As we brought Orange over here? Mary did not stop crying from the moment she knew he was to be her bridegroom to the time she left. If George of Denmark should prove to be another Orange …”
“Nonsense, brother, there could only be one Orange in the world.”
“Then let us invite him to come, and I trust Anne likes him. I would to God daughters never had to reach a marriageable age.”
“Then it’s more than they do. The Mulgrave affair should have shown you that, James. Daughters grow up. And remember this: Anne is not like Mary. She seems already to have forgotten Mulgrave.”
James admitted this was true. But he loved his daughters dearly and longed to see them happy.
Prince George of Denmark arrived in England on a bright summer’s day; he was looking forward with mild pleasure to meeting his bride; but all his emotions were mild, except perhaps his love of food and drink which was excessive; but these indulgences, to whatever excess he carried them, never ruffled his good temper;