University of Virginia Library

12. XII.
MY PARTING WITH FRANCES VILLIERS.

I remained in France until the ensuing spring, performing
the duties of private secretary to her majesty.

Then there came to me a great longing to return to
England. I was ill at ease in the Louvre. The splendid
French court jarred a discord upon my feelings.

I longed to go back to my home-land, and to leave
Frances Villiers.

Does that last statement appear strange? 'Tis true,
nevertheless. To be near her was torture; alternate
torpor and fever possessed me. Loving a woman with
my whole soul, and yet bound to the dead by a solemn
promise never to speak, I found my heart agitated and
torn, my very health giving way.

The queen came to my relief. She summoned me
to her private apartments one morning, and, extending
towards me a packet, said, with deep sadness,—

“I wish you to convey this to his majesty, Mr.
Cecil.”

I bowed low and took the letter.

“He is at Holmby House, in Northamptonshire,”
said the queen. “Escaping from Oxford, to take
refuge with those people at Newcastle, he has been
sold by them,—sold, for the sum of four hundred
thousand pounds! And—oh!—it is infamous!—it is
infamous!”

And the queen burst into a passion of tears.

“Bear with me,” she faltered, at length, through
tears and sobs. “I am only a poor woman! I will
try to be calm.”

And, passing a handkerchief across her eyes, she
added, more composedly,—

“The parliament people hold him a prisoner, not
knowing what to do with him. The Presbyterians and
odious Independents differ. I would have him decide
the matter by leaving the country and taking refuge in
France. Bear him this letter, Mr. Cecil: it contains
my prayer that he will make the attempt. Do not let

it fall into the enemy's hands; and may Heaven prosper
you in your journey!”

She covered her face with her hand, and attempted
to speak again, but no words came; and I retired
respectfully from the apartment, leaving her majesty
bending over the little princess Henrietta and weeping.

On the same night I had assumed my disguise and
was on the road to England. A last interview with
Frances Villiers had gone near to unman me. At the
moment of parting, when 'twas doubtful if we should
ever meet again, she permitted her feelings to show
themselves; and 'twas this which made my heart sink.
Let me pass briefly over this, and say simply that
something had at last touched her. Was it that long
journey we had made together, sharing a common danger,
and ever beside each other? Was it the womanly
heart yearning at last, now when the queen was in
safety, for some refuge for itself? I know not: I can
only say that, as I held her hand at parting, the beautiful
eyes dwelt upon my face for an instant with an
expression which I could not misunderstand, and her
voice died away in a sob.

“Good-by,” she murmured, smiling through her
tears, and gazing at me with blushes in her cheeks.
“We may never meet again; but I pray God to bless
you and watch over you!”

A strange, delicious thrill passed through my heart;
my face flushed. I bent down and pressed my burning
lips to her hand. Before I could speak,—Heaven
be thanked!—she had left the apartment; and as she
disappeared I heard a low sob.