The Highlanders were restive. They demanded of each other why they had been brought south. Why should there be this dismay because the enemy were approaching when they had gathered together to meet the enemy. And what of King James? Why did he not show himself? Why did he never mingle with his soldiers? And why when he was seen did he have the look of a man whose cause is hopeless?

There was only one answer to those questions: these things were so because the cause was hopeless.

James and his Council decided they must retreat in the face of the advancing army; and while this marched north, Mar and James made their arrangements for James to return to France.

So the great rebellion known as the 1715 was quashed almost before it started.

What could the Highlanders do when they heard that their

leader had left? There was no point in fighting without a cause.

They returned to the Highlands, there to hide until the '15 was forgotten.

Good luck, not skill, had given the victory to George I.

In London the streets returned to normal; the Jacobites drank their toasts in secret; the camp disappeared from Hyde Park; and the soldiers returned from the north.

Ermengarda settled down happily to discover more opportunities for amassing a fortune; George grunted and was not sure whether he was pleased or sorry. He still thought with deep nostalgia of Hanover. The Prince and Princess of Wales took their walks in the Mall with their band of attendants and friends, talking their German-French-English which never failed to amuse, telling everyone how much they admired England and the English.

They were secure. James would make no more attempts. They felt safer than even before. The attempt had been made and failed; it was as though the people had given their verdict.

But the scribblers were still busy and the rhyme which won the most acclaim at that time and which was repeated in every coffee house, tavern, or wherever men and women congregated, was John Byrom's:

''God bless the King, God bless our Faith's Defender! God bless — no harm in blessing — the Pretender! But who Pretender is and who is King? God bless us all! That's quite another thing,"

The King's Departure

Mary Bellenden was leaning out of the window trying to see the last of a handsome man who had crossed the courtyard and was about to disappear through a door which led to the Prince's apartments.

As he waved and was gone, she sighed and turning sharply was aware of two of the maids of honour who had been watching her.

There could not have been two girls less alike than Margaret Meadows and Sophie Howe. Margaret had now folded her arms and was looking extremely disapproving while Sophie was giggling sympathetically.

"Such unbecoming conduct! " muttered Margaret.

"I see nothing unbecoming," retorted Mary.

"Of course you do not. You are accustomed to such manners that you believe them to be acceptable. It's more than I do."

"Really Margaret," protested Sophie. "Tell me what harm can they do by waving to each other from a window?"

"They've made an assignation no doubt."

"There's nothing wrong in making an assignation," pointed

out Sophie. "Of course it depends on what happens when they keep it." She began to laugh so hilariously that, thought Margaret, she could only be remembering her own indiscretions.

"Be silent both of you," commanded Mary, "I won't have you say such things about John."

"So it's John?" cried Sophie.

"Yes, it's John and he is an honourable gentleman and I don't want either of you to start a gossip about him. Do you understand?"

"Oh, we understand, we understand?" cried Sophie. "We understand our Mary is at last in love."

"Don't shout so," reprimanded Margaret. "I never saw such behaviour. And you, Sophie Howe, are the worst of the lot. As for you, Mary Bellenden, you should be careful. These men will talk of love until they get what ihey want and then ..."

"'Tis true, Mary," agreed Sophie. "Oh, how they talk of love! And afterwards they laugh and tell their friends all about the submissive lady while they advise them to try their luck."

"You don't understand ... either of you. You're too much of a prude, Margaret, and Sophie's too much of a flirt."

"And our dear Mary is ... just as she should be?" laughed Sophie.

"I'm ... serious."

"But is he?" laughed Sophie. "I could tell you a few things. In fact if you want to know anything about the most fascinating subject in the world come to Sophie."

"And what would that be?" demanded Margaret.

"Men!" laughed Sophie.

"If you know anything about them, Sophie Howe, it's all you do know," retorted Margaret.

"There's no need to know anything else, I do assure you, Margaret."

Mary listened to them dreamily. Colonel John Campbell was the handsomest man in the Prince's bedchamber; one day they would marry but for the present they must be content to wait for each other. Poor John had little money; and she, as one of the greatest beauties of the court, was expected to make a brilliant match. In fact everyone knew that the Prince had his eye

on her. Not, thought Mary scornfully, that that will do him much good. She was not going to take the easy road to honours by becoming a Prince's—and later perhaps a King's—mistress.

In fact, thought Mary, she would be a fool to take any notice of the Prince's insinuations. He was not really very interested in any woman as a woman; his great desire was to prove his manhood and this he thought he could best do by implying that he was the insatiable lover.

How trivial, how foolish these vanities seemed when compared with the love she and John Campbell had for each other.

One day, John, she was thinking, we'll be married. Perhaps secretly at first ... but shall we care about that? John had told her about the great love of his hero the Duke of Marlborough for his Duchess; they had been married secretly in the days before he had become famous; and whatever might be said of the great Duke or his termagant of a Duchess, none doubted their affection for each other. Their love had endured through all their fame and their misfortunes.

"It shall be so with us," John had said.

He would be as great a soldier as Marlborough, she had replied, but she trusted she would never be such a quarrelsome woman as the Duchess.

She would never be anything but the most charming, the most beautiful woman in the world, he told her.

"You're one who has made up his mind," she had retorted, for the rival charms of herself and Molly Lepel were continuously sung in the court and there were continual arguments as to which of the two was the more beautiful.

"Be careful of the Prince," John had fearfully said; and she had laughingly assured him he had no need to warn her.

Sophie Howe was saying: "I told the man I could not pay him yet. I told him it should be payment enough for him to serve a maid of honour."

"If he complains to the Princess you will be reprimanded I can tell you."

"Oh Margaret, how tiresome good people can be! I tell you I owe such a lot that I dare not try to calculate how much. In fact when a bill is sent to me I hide it ... quickly."

"Which is just what I should expect of you. Don't forget you

were one of the chief offenders in church and it's due to you that the maids have to be boarded up. You will be getting a bad reputation, Sophie Howe. I'm surprised that Her Highness keeps you in her service."