London became more and more exasperated; rumours flew thick: The King's son-in-law, the Prince of Orange, was coming with an army; money was being sent from the French King; the Irish, that ancient nightmare, were to be let loose; the Queen had raised a troop to attack the Keys of the Kingdom and set my lord free by force from the Tower.
The Bill was passed, and on a May morning sent up for the King's assent.
He had, a week before, sent a message to the Lords, beseeching them not to press upon his conscience on which he could not condemn his minister.
But the appeal had failed; Lords, Commons, and people all waited eagerly, angrily, threateningly, for the King's assent.
He asked a day to consider; he sent for three bishops and, in great agony of mind, asked their ghostly counsel. Usher and Juxon told him Strafford was innocent and that he should not sign. Williams bid him bow to the opinion of the judges, and bade him listen to the thunderous tumult at his gates. London was roused, he said, and would not be pacified until my lord's head fell on Tower Hill.
So the hideous day wore on to evening, and the King had not signed.
As the delay continued, the suspense and agitation in the city become almost unbearable, and it took all the efforts of the royal guards to hold the gates of the Palace.
The King was locked into his private cabinet, and even the Queen had not seen him since noon.
Henriette Marie had passed the earlier part of the day with her younger children. She had made several vain attempts to see the King and she had denied herself to all, even to Lady Strafford and her frantic supplications.
She had many agents continually employed, and during the day they came to her and reported upon the feeling in the Houses, in the city, and in the streets.