"What would you, Madam? The Earl is no subject of the Prince."
"He is his supplicant—as I am; he might have gone to France, but he hath put himself at the mercy of His Highness."
"The Prince is ever generous," answered Mary, "but what he can do here I know not."
She drew away a little from the Countess, for in her thoughts were rising the remembrances of all the ignoble parts my lord had played, and the ill reports she had received of him and his wife from her sister, the Princess Anne.
"You must see the Prince," she said, something coldly.
Lady Sunderland was quick to notice this change of manner.
"I am a woman in bitter trouble," she answered. "I stand before you no better than a beggar. If it were not that I might still be of use to my lord, I would pray to die."
"You are very weary," said Mary, with instant kindness. She drew her to seat herself on the long brocade couch—"Poor soul, I doubt that you are very sad!"
Lady Sunderland looked at her wildly, then burst into anguished tears.
"Ah, Madam!" cried Mary, bending over her, "I do beseech you take comfort."