"This is like to be the end of us, my lord," he remarked. "Cry 'finis'! for the play is over now."
The King continued to weep; his whole frail figure was shaken with his passion. The last cold daylight was over his gold broideries and the crimson bracelet round his wrist. Caermarthen was pacing to and fro in a kind of frenzy.
"What is to do!" he asked himself. "What is to do!" and he clutched the cambric ruffles on his bosom.
Godolphin again dropped on his knees before the King and took William's cold left hand to his lips.
"Your Majesty will not leave us," he murmured, in a quivering tone.
The King lifted his great eyes, blurred, yet bright, with tears.
"If I stay," he answered, "it is on certain terms—I will not be the puppet of factions." He stopped, exhausted; he composed himself and flushed feverishly; his speech was interrupted by continual and painful coughing. "I will not be a party to persecution." He clenched his thin hand on the smooth curved arm of his chair, and spoke with a force and energy that gripped and almost frightened his listeners. "A measure must be passed to prevent it—and I must go to The Hague next spring."
"Ireland——" began Caermarthen.
William caught up the word.
"I will go to Ireland—since ye think so much of that wretched country I will get it——"