George Lewis said to her with more tenderness than he usually displayed: "Sit down. You look a little shaken."
She sat down, still holding the letter. She tried to read it through again, but the writing danced before her eyes.
George Lewis was watching her intently. She handed the letter to him.
"I felt a little unwell for a moment or two," she said. "I am all right now."
Sophia sat in her apartments at Herrenhausen writing a letter to her niece, the Duchess of Orleans, the most notorious scandal-monger at the French Court. It was a habit of Sophia's to write to this niece whenever she was particularly disturbed and even though she realized that Elizabeth Charlotte was completely mischievous and what she wrote would be discussed freely at the French Court, she could never resist writing to her. The letters were a safety valve for one who had so often been forced to curb her true feelings.
She was smiling as she wrote, telling her niece how badly the Queen of England was behaving, first by being so long in dying, secondly by flirting with the idea of placating her conscience and naming her half-brother as her successor. And here she was, at Herrenhausen, when she should be at the Court of St. James. George Lewis was worse than usual—a .crude German boor who had never tried to learn English and had no love for England, the country she hoped he would one day rule; followed by George Augustus, who really had some sense since he had managed to make friends with a number of English people and had married a very sensible wife whom Sophia was sure would guide him through any difficulties which lay ahead.
Something must happen soon. Queen Anne could not live for ever.
Caroline came to her apartments accompanied by one of Sophia's women, the Countess von Pickenbourg.
"I thought you might care to take a walk," said Caroline.
"Excellent idea," replied Sophia. "As you know full well I'm always ready for that. If people walked more then we would enjoy better health." She rose smiling. She would finish the letter later. "I have lived so long because I have walked every day in the fresh air ... never as a task, mind you, but always as a pleasure. Give me your arm, Caroline, my dear."
Caroline obeyed and the Countess stood on the other side of the Electress.
"Let us walk in the orangery," said Sophia. "I always enjoyed the orangery, and I think it is particularly beautiful on a summer's evening."
As they came into the orangery, Sophia began to talk, as usual of England.
"I should like to know what the people of England think of Anne's refusal to invite us. Surely they would wish to see us there."
"The Queen's health is even worse than usual, so I believe," replied Caroline. "But she has been on the point of death so many times."
"Poor soul!" sighed Sophia. "I am sorry for her. Hers has scarcely been a happy life. As a girl she was so delicate. Why, when her sister Mary was being married to Orange, she was on the point of death through the smallpox. She has faced death so many times that she must be prepared. How grateful / am for my good health. I hope death, when it comes for me, will snuff me out like a candle. That's the best way."
"I believe it to be the best way," agreed Caroline. "What a pity we cannot all choose our way of going. But the subject is a morbid one. If Marlborough were here he might be able to give us some news, although I confess I don't altogether trust Marlborough."
"There are very few one can trust, alas," said Sophia. "I am fortunate to have you here with me, my dear. I can talk openly to you of these matters which are of such importance to us all. I only wish I could feel so confident of everyone. These are difficult times ... and full of significance for our house. Once I am in England everything will be so different. How I long to be there! "
"It can't be long now," said Caroline.
"Perhaps Your Highness would care to sit a while," suggested the Countess.
"No, I prefer to walk. As I have often told you there is nothing so good for the health as walking. What a beautiful day it has been."
Sophia was silent suddenly for through the greenery she had caught a glimpse of George Lewis walking in the gardens with Schulemburg on one side and Kielmansegge on the other.
She sighed. "What a spectacle! Are there two more unattractive women at this Court. But I suppose when they first became his mistresses they were more attractive."
"The Elector is faithful, according to some standards," replied Caroline.
"I prefer the tall malken to the fat hen. The first is at least faithful to him. I don't understand my son. I never did since he was three years old. Sometimes I think he is a clever man, at others a fool."
"There are so many different sides to all of us," said Caroline; and she was thinking of Sophia—so discreet at Hanover, so reckless in her correspondence with Elizabeth Charlotte; so restrained in the matters concerning the Court of Hanover; so transparent in those concerning the Court of St. James's. A woman with a single purpose-—to be Queen of England. Perhaps that was the explanation of every action.
"Take care," said Caroline, suddenly realizing that Sophia was growing very breathless. "You are going too fast."
"I daresay I am," replied Sophia.
"Your Highness," began the Countess and stopped for Sophia had swayed towards her. Between them the Countess and Caroline caught her.
"Help me to get her to a chair," said Caroline quickly; but even as she spoke she felt the Electress's body limp in her arms.
Tenderly they lowered her to the ground; she lay back, an odd pallor in her cheeks, her eyes turning glassy.
"Call for help ... quickly," cried Caroline; and the Countess ran out of the orangery into the grounds.
As Caroline knelt beside Sophia a terrible desolation came to her. "Can you ... speak to me ..." she whispered.
Sophia's glassy eyes were on her face ... fixed ... lifeless.
You must get well, thought Caroline. I can't lose you as well.
George Lewis had come into the orangery. Caroline was aware of the startled faces of his two mistresses, but all that was admirable in George Lewis was uppermost on an occasion such as this.
Without showing the least sign of agitation he knelt beside his mother and felt her pulse. Then he sent one of the guards to bring him some poudre d'or. "Quickly," he said. "There may be time."
Caroline brought a cushion and placed it under Sophia's head.
"When did it happen?" asked George Lewis.
"Quite suddenly. We were walking and talking ... and suddenly she fell."
George Lewis nodded and said no more and a few minutes later the guard returned with the poudre d'or which George Lewis forced into her mouth.
"It may revive her," said Caroline.
"If it is not too late," replied George Lewis, in a flat unemotional voice.
What was he thinking? wondered Caroline. How much did he feel for his mother? Did he recognize her virtues or had she been to him nothing but an interfering old woman? Whatever he felt George Lewis would not betray it.
The physician had arrived. Kneeling beside the Electress and looking from George Lewis to Caroline he said: "There is nothing we can do."
"So she's dead," said George Lewis, final, matter of fact.
"I fear so. Your Highness."
"It can't be so," began Caroline; but George Lewis ignored her.
"She should be carried into the palace," he said.
So the body of Sophia was carried into the palace which she had loved beyond all others. Queen Anne lived on, but Sophia, whose great ambition had been to succeed her, had been as she herself would have said 'snuffed out like a candle'.
No one mourned Sophia as sincerely as Caroline. Not since the death of Sophia Charlotte had she felt so desolate. It was true that now she was married and had her own children; but the Electress had been like a mother to her and she had loved her dearly.