My lady turned her delicate head towards the window. Beyond her brocade curtains lay the dark shape of London, overhung with a glow of red that stained the summer sky. She sat silent. Mr. Sidney stood close to her, and she could hear his quick breathing; he, as she, was listening to the bells, the shouting, the crack of fireworks, now louder, now fainter, but a continuous volume of sound.
"The people——" said Mr. Sidney.
"Do they make revolutions?" she asked.
"If there is a man to guide them they do——"
"Well?"
"Before, there was Cromwell."
"And now——"
"Now there is William of Orange."
My lady rose.
"His Highness," she said quietly but firmly, "may be assured that he hath a friend, a secret friend in my lord."