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prince wanted to get his wife away from St. James's as soon as possible lest she might catch the infection; but she would not leave her father until the dreaded moment of sailing arrived. This made the groom so angry that everybody spoke of how cross and ugly he was, and the maids-of-honor of the queen called him the "Dutch monster," and other horrid names. He was angry with the wind, too, because it would continue to blow in the wrong direction, and keep him in England longer than he desired. Several people were lying dangerously ill at St. James's Palace; two or three had died since the wedding; Anne continued too ill to see her sister, and all was gloom and sorrow around the bride. At last, on the nineteenth of November, the wind changed, and the two palaces of Whitehall and St. James were at once bustle and confusion with preparations for the departure of the Princess of Orange and her husband. At nine o'clock in the morning the bride bade farewell to her old home and went to Whitehall to embrace her royal aunt, Queen Catharine, whom she loved very dearly. It was then that the queen told her to consider how much better her case was than her own, for when she came from Portugal she had not even seen King Charles, and Mary replied between her sobs: "But, madame, remember you came into England, I am going out of England." The king and the Duke of York, with a large party of nobility and gentry, embarked-on the royal barges at Whitehall and accompanied the Prince and Princess of Orange down the river to Erith, where they were to dine. Then Mary parted with her father and uncle and set sail for Holland, several English and Dutch men-of-war being in attendance to conduct the royal yacht across the sea. If the Duke of York had known his son-in-law as well at that time as he did later, he would have set a watch on his movements until he was well out of the kingdom; but an unfavorable shifting of the wind gave the ambitious prince a chance of playing a mean trick on the duke, who on hearing that the Dutch fleet was detained at Sheerness, sent a messenger to invite the bride and groom to pass the time at Whitehall. William declined, but went ashore with his wife and became the guest of Colonel Dorrell, the governor. Next day they proceeded to Canterbury, accompanied by Lady Inchiquin (one of the Villiers girls), a maid, and the prince's two favorites, Bentinck and Odyke. Arriving at the inn, the prince applied to the city authorities for a loan, saying that he had been sent away from London in haste without a penny, because King Charles and the Duke of York were so jealous of any favor shown him that they were afraid the lord mayor would give him a grand feast, and hurried him off to prevent it. As we know the entertainment was given, and the prince and princess, as well as the rest of the royal family were present, of course the statement was false, and by refusing the loan the corporation of Canterbury showed very plainly that they considered it so. But Doctor Tillotson, the Dean of Canterbury, gathered together all the plate and ready money he could command, and hastened with them to the inn, where he requested an interview with Mr. Bentinck, and not only placed all his wealth at the disposal of the prince, but offered him an asylum at the deanery, a more proper stopping-place for one of his rank than a common inn. The money and plate were accepted, but the offer of hospitality was declined. Now, it was perfectly useless for Prince William to demand money from any one but his uncles, who would have supplied him without hesitation. Besides, as the first instalment of Princess Mary's portion of forty thousand pounds had been paid, his credit was perfectly good in London, and the prime minister, Danby, would not have been applied to in vain. But the prince was so angry on account of the birth of his little brother-in-law that he wanted to appear in the light of a very ill-used person, and this game was a bold political stroke to obtain partisans before leaving the country. And he succeeded, for Dr. Tillotson became a serviceable friend, who corresponded with the prince and Mr. Bentinck, and gave them some valuable information for which he was made an archbishop a few years later. Four days the Prince of Orange devoted to courting favor with the people of Kent, and then set sail on board the "Montague" at Margate.
The princess was accompanied by Lady Inchiquin and her two sisters, Elizabeth and Anne Villiers, whose mother had died just after they bade her adieu at Richmond Palace. These were ladies-of-honor, and there was still another, named Mary Worth. After a very stormy passage, during which everybody was sea-sick excepting Princess Mary, the royal fleet arrived at Tethudo, a town on the Holland coast, and their majesties proceeded to Hounslardyke Palace. The preparations for their reception went forward so slowly that they could not make their public entry into the Hague until the end of a fortnight, but everything was arranged with great magnificence. The bridge at the entrance of the town was festooned with garlands of flowers, surrounding appropriate Latin inscriptions, and twelve companies of soldiers were drawn up in line on either side. Twenty-four virgins, in gay costumes, walked two and two on either side of their highnesses' coach, strewing fresh flowers and evergreens in the path all the way. In front of the town hall was a triumphal arch hung with banners, ferns, and gay ribbons, displaying the crests of the prince and princess side by side, and over them two hands holding a Latin motto, which, rendered into English, read thus:—
"What Halcyon airs this royal Hymen sings,
The Olive branch of peace her dower she brings."
The royal cortège passed beneath this arch on to Hoog-straet, where another bore this inscription:—
"To the Batavian court, with Heaven's best smile,
Approach fair guest, and bless this happy pile."