and what completed the amazement and fury of the Duchess at an event so unlooked for, was that the supplanter, Abigail Hill (the very name was that of servitude), had been a creature of her own, and even a poor relation, that wretchedest of all creatures in the eyes of pride. The catastrophe, too, had been brought about by one of the Duchess's own mistakes; by a proposal emanating from herself; and which was precisely the kind of turning-point that suited the Queen's nature.

The Duchess had requested an interview— a proposition the most alarming conceivable to the poor Queen, on account of the advantage which her antagonist possessed in powers of tongue. She, therefore, parried it as long as possible, and would evidently have not assented at all, had not the Duchess extorted the permission by stratagem. Unfortunately, however, for her success, she had

told the Queen in a letter which preceded it, that she only desired to be seen and be heard by her Majesty. There was no necessity, she said, for the Queen to answer. The Queen, in fact, had answered so many of her tormentor's letters in the negative, that the Duchess, not foreseeing what would be the consequence of this general preclusion of response in her Majesty's favour, was resolved to prevent farther epistolary acknowledgment by following up her last letter in person. says, in the foolish "Account" which

She

she

gave to the world of her " Conduct," and I which had the reverse effect of what she intended (which is the usual case with violent relators of their own story):

I followed this letter to Kensington, and by that means prevented the Queen's writing again to me, as she was preparing to do.

The page who went in to acquaint the Queen that I was come to wait upon her, stayed longer than usual; long enough, it is to be supposed, to give time to deliberate whether the favour of admission should be granted, and to settle the measure of behaviour if I were admitted. But, at last, he came out and told me I might go in."

Poor Anne even now endeavoured to stop the coming torrent of words, by recommending the Duchess to put what she had to say in writing; but as this was the very thing over which the latter thought she had triumphed, she must have heard the proposal with contemptuous delight; and she proceeded accordingly to pour forth her complaints. The Queen, after intimating that lies no doubt were told on all sides, came to the beautiful resource which had unwillingly been furnished

her, and said she would give the Duchess

"no answer."

The Duchess, astounded to

find herself caught in her own trap, and taken at her word, declared, of course, that the phrase was not intended to imply what it did; but the Queen, she says, repeated it again and again," without ever receding."

The Duchess protested that her only design was to clear herself. The Queen repeated over and over again, "You desired no answer, and shall have none."

The Duchess fell into "great disorder," and into floods of tears; but still the only return was "You desired no answer, and you shall have none."

"I then begged to know, if her Majesty would tell me some other time?"

'You desired no answer, and you shall have none."

"I then appealed to her Majesty again, if she did not herself know, &c. And whether she did not know me to be of a temper incapable of, &c., &c."

"You desired no answer, and you shall have none."

"This usage," concludes the Duchess, was so severe, and these words, so often repeated, were so shocking, &c., that I could not conquer myself, but said the most disrespectful thing I ever spoke to the Queen in my life; and that was, that I was confident her Majesty would suffer for such an instance of inhumanity."

The Queen answered, "that will be to myself."

"And thus ended," says the Duchess, "this remarkable conversation, the last I ever had with her Majesty."