"My Lady Argyll is weeping downstairs," said Lady Sunderland; "but I perceive that Your Highness hath more constancy."
Mary held up the Prayer Book.
"I have been trying to set my mind on this," she answered, "but the devil is busy about me—and I cannot fix my thoughts on anything but—those ships——"
Lady Sunderland, who had made a great clatter with her devotions at Whitehall, with the sole object of covering her husband's apostasy, but who had no real religion, knew not what to say.
"God," continued the Princess gravely, "must surely protect an enterprise so just, but since His ways are mysterious it might be His will to bring us to disaster, and, humanly speaking, it is a terrible night."
"I fear they will be diverted from their course," said the Countess, "since faith cannot still the winds——"
Mary rose and handed her the Prayer Book.
"I think we should pray—will you read?—I have had a course of humours in my eyes, and of late they are so weak——"
The Countess took the book with shaking fingers, then laid it down on the blue-and-white chintz-covered chair beside her.
"I cannot," she said half fiercely. "It is, Madam, no use."