purse were opened, and the poverty which so long oppressed her disappeared. What took place between the royal aunt and nephew was only known some years later; but the queen was well satisfied with the result of their conversation, for the strings of the king's purse were opened, and the poverty which so long oppressed her disappeared. The princess and the child Agnes felt this change more than anyone. There was a mystery concerning Agnes; but mysteries about personages were very common in those days. In this great Civil War children had been lost, families had disappeared, no one quite knew who might be who. The princess and the child Agnes felt this change more than anyone. There was a mystery concerning Agnes; but mysteries about personages were very common in those days. In this great Civil War children had been lost, families had disappeared, no one quite knew who might be who. When people questioned as to who this child was, the queen answered haughtily: When people questioned as to who this child was, the queen answered haughtily: "Her name is Agnes Beaumont. Who she is and whence she comes I know; that is my secret, and must suffice all men." "Her name is Agnes Beaumont. Who she is and whence she comes I know; that is my secret, and must suffice all men." It was on a cold winter's night nigh upon twenty years ago, and snow lay thick upon the ground, when Patience had found her way to the Palace of the Louvre, and begged and prayed, and almost forced herself into Queen Henrietta's presence. It was in the early days of the queen's widowhood. She had pawned all her jewels; she had sent all her money to the assistance of her son; and she herself was living a beggar on the bounty of the King of France, and that was measured out stingily. Poverty was in the air; the great rooms assigned to her in the Palace of the Louvre were bare and cold; and when Patience succeeded in forcing her way into her presence, she found the queen cowering over a few embers in the great fireplace, with the young princess, then only a child of eight years, gathered in her arms for warmth. It was on a cold winter's night nigh upon twenty years ago, and snow lay thick upon the ground, when Patience had found her way to the Palace of the Louvre, and begged and prayed, and almost forced herself into Queen Henrietta's presence. It was in the early
Prev.
Back
Top