He graciously consented, and led me to his closet,
overlooking the River Thames. From this closet, on the second floor, a
privy stairs led down to a door which opened on a small covered porch at
the head of a flight of stone steps falling to the king's private barge
landing at the water's edge. When I noticed the narrow stairway, I had no
thought of the part it would one day play in the fortunes and misfortunes
of Frances, Hamilton, and myself.
On the king's command, I sat down near him, and he asked:--
"What can I do for you, baron? I do not remember your having ever
solicited a favor of me, and I shall be delighted to grant what you ask,
if I can."
"I seek no favor, your Majesty," I returned. "I simply want to tell you
that my cousin, Mistress Jennings, has just informed me of her intention
to leave Whitehall, and I wonder--"
"No, no," cried the king, interrupting me. "She shall not go! Why is she
discontented here?"
"I am not sure that I can tell your Majesty," I answered evasively. "I am
loath to see her go, and, knowing well your kindliness, hoped you would
be willing to urge her to remain."
"Gladly," replied the king. "She is the most beautiful ornament of our
court, and we must not lose her. I don't mind telling you for your own
ear that I suspect the cause of her sudden resolution and respect it."
He laughed, and after a long pause, continued:--
"I forgot that she was fresh from the country, and that she still
retained part of her prudish ideas, so while walking with her yesterday
on the Serpentine, I offered her a pension, to which she is justly
entitled, adorning our court as she does.
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