"I have just come from her antechamber—even the pages and serving-maids are in tears—this is a heavy business." He himself seemed like a man utterly overcome. "She is certainly sinking—she is in private discourse now with the Archbishop."
"Doth she know?"
Leeds shook his head.
"Dr. Tenison waiteth the King's commands to tell her—but I think she hath an inner knowledge."
M. Auverqueverque came from the group by the window and whispered Portland that the King was conscious.
At this Leeds, ever warm-hearted and impulsive, went on his knees beside the couch and pressed the King's cold hand affectionately to his lips.
William sat up with his head drooping; his back was to the light, and his thick curls almost concealed his face; he held his handkerchief to his lips and shivered continually.
"The Queen," said Leeds, very low, "hath asked for Your Majesty."
The King murmured something incoherent.
"And the Archbishop," continued Leeds, with a grave gentleness, "thinketh she should be told of her danger."