The King again pressed his hand affectionately. They were walking under limes, and hawthorns white with blossom. The sky shone cloudy blue, and the pale English sunshine was over the young grass.
William looked round him with the sick eyes of exile; thoughts of Holland tugged so sharply at his heart that he gave a little suppressed sound of pain.
"What of this Crone and Fuller plot?" asked Portland suddenly.
"I am sorry to leave that on the Queen her hands," said William quietly; "but I do not think it serious."
"Some great men are implicated?"
"I do not doubt it."
Portland hesitated a moment, then said—
"Nottingham's spies intercepted letters to St. Germains, he saith—who were they from?"
"People of no station," answered the King. "Nottingham is over zealous."
"And you, sir, are over easy."