The first words, after the preamble of compliments, took her with amazement. She glanced quickly to the signature, which was that of Lord Danby, then read the letter word for word, while her colour rose and her breath came sharply.
When she had finished, with an involuntary passionate gesture and an involuntary passionate exclamation, she dashed the letter down on the lacquer bureau.
Lady Sunderland, at this moment entering, beheld an expression on the face of the Princess which she had never thought to see there—an expression of sparkling anger.
"Ill news from England, Highness?" she asked swiftly.
"The worst news in the world for me," answered Mary. Then she cried, "This is what M. D'Avaux meant!"
The Countess raised her beautiful eyes. She was very fair in rose-pink silk and lace, her appearance gave no indication of misfortune, but in her heart was always the sharp knowledge that she was an exile playing a game, the stake of which was the greatness, perhaps the life, of her husband.
"What news, Highness?" she questioned gently.
Mary was too inflamed to be reserved, and, despite the vast difference in their natures, a great closeness had sprung up between her and the Countess during these weeks of waiting.
"They wish to make me Queen," she said, with quivering lips, "to the exclusion of the Prince. My Lord Danby, whom I never liked, is leading a party in the Convention, and he saith will have his way——"
Lady Sunderland was startled.