cherished dream. As the Duchess of Savoy she would never hear those magic words which, perhaps next year, or the year after that, or in five or ten years’ time, could ring in the ears of the Princess Elizabeth: “God save Queen Elizabeth!”
No, here she was, and here she would stay. All her hopes were in England, and if at times she felt she would never succeed in climbing the slippery path which led to the summit of ambition, well then, she would rather fall in the attempt than give up the climb.
Emphatically she refused the offer from the Duke of Savoy.
The Queen and her ministers were annoyed, but mildly; and temporarily the matter was allowed to drop.
She lived quietly in the country for a few weeks, eagerly learning all she could of what was happening at Court from her friends who were still there.
News came—wild news, news which might lead to triumph or disaster. Wyatt had risen in protest against the Spanish marriage. Letters asking for her support had been sent to her, but she would have nothing to do with such a rebellion. She knew that her hope of success lay in waiting. She knew that Courtenay was concerned in the Wyatt plot, and handsome as he was he was weak and untrustworthy; and if the plot were successful, the Duke of Suffolk, who was also one of the leaders, would surely hope to bring his own daughter Lady Jane Grey to the throne rather than help Elizabeth.
No! Rebellion was not for her.
And she was soon proved to be right, for Courtenay turned traitor in a moment of panic and confessed the plot to Gardiner, so that Wyatt was forced to act prematurely. The rebellion failed and Wyatt was under arrest; Courtenay and Suffolk were sent to the Tower, and the order went forth that Lady Jane and Lord Guildford Dudley were to be executed without delay. Unfortunately for Elizabeth, letters written by Noailles and Wyatt, intended for her, were intercepted and put before the Queen.
When the summons came, Elizabeth knew that in all the dangerous moments of a hazardous life, there had never been one to equal this.
There was one thing she could do. She could go to bed. Alas, she declared, she was too ill to travel; and indeed, so terrified was she, that her illness on this occasion was not altogether feigned. She could neither eat nor sleep; she lay in agony of torment—waiting, listening for the sound of horses’ hoofs in the courtyard which would announce the arrival of the Queen’s men.
It was not long before they came.
They were not soldiers come to arrest her, but two of the Queen’s physicians, Dr. Wendy and Dr. Owen.
Her trembling attendants announced their arrival.
“I cannot see them,” said the Princess. “I am too ill for visitors.”
It was ten o’clock at night, but the doctors came purposefully into her chamber. She looked at them haughtily.
“Is the haste such that you could not wait until morning?” she asked.
They begged her to pardon them. They were distressed, they said, to see her Grace in such a sorry condition.
“And I,” she retorted, “am not glad to see you at such an hour.”
“It is by the Queen’s command that we come, Your Grace.”
“You see me a poor invalid.”
They came closer to the bed. “It is the Queen’s wish that you should leave Ashridge at dawn tomorrow for London.”
“I could not undertake the journey in my present state of fatigue.”
The doctors looked at her sternly. “Your Grace might rest for one day. After that we must set out without fail for London on pain of Her Majesty’s displeasure.”
Elizabeth was resigned. She knew that her sick-bed could give her at most no more than a few days’ grace.
She was carried in a litter which the Queen had sent for her; and the very day on which she set out was that on which Lady Jane Grey and her husband Lord Guildford Dudley walked the short distance from their prisons in the Tower to the scaffold.
Some of the country people came out to watch the Princess pass by, and she was deeply aware of their sympathetic glances. They thought of the lovely Jane Grey, who was only seventeen; she had had no wish to be Queen, but the ambition of those about her had forced her to that eminence. And perhaps at this moment she was saying her last prayers before the executioner severed that lovely head from her slender body. The people could feel