"Doctors mistake, do they not?" he cried, between the long shudders that shook him. "How often have they not said—I should die—but I lived."
"Alas," answered Portland unsteadily, "I would not have you deceive yourself—Radcliffe was very certain. But you will command yourself——"
"I—I have no strength," gasped the King; "my soul is broken within me. O God!" he sobbed, "save her or let me go!"
He turned about and threw out his hand like a blind man feeling his way, then fell back into Portland's arms.
"Fainted," said my lord laconically. With the help of M. Zulestein he laid him on the stiff couch between the windows. One of the servants hurried for a doctor, and in the moment's confusion my Lord Leeds entered unnoticed.
Portland, as he moved from the King's couch, was the first to see him.
"Ah, my lord," he said sorrowfully, "what is to become of us all?"
"The King," murmured Portland, much moved, "is incapable of anything—do you take the direction of affairs."
"Nay, you, my lord," answered Leeds. "You are His Majesty's nearer friend."
"And your Grace is English—it will be more politic should you take this office—what of the Queen?"