In default of a letter, I promised to go to Paris and learn the truth from George's friends, if possible.
Frances did not go back to Whitehall that day, but remained at home, pretending to be ill of an ague.
At the end of a week, Frances not having returned to Whitehall, Sir Richard was honored by a visit from no less a person than the king, accompanied by the duchess and a gentleman in waiting.

The visit was made incognito.
As a result of this royal visit, which was made for the purpose of seeing Frances, a part of Sir Richard's estates near St.Albans were restored to him, and from poverty he rose at once to a comfortable income of, say, a thousand or twelve hundred pounds a year.
Immediately all of Sir Richard's hatred of Charles II fell away, and once more the king shone in the resplendent light of his divine appointment.
While Frances estimated the king's generosity at its true value, she was glad her father had received even a small part of what was his just due, and although she knew the restoration had been made to please, and, if possible, to win her, she was glad to have spoiled the royal Philistine, and despised him more than ever before, if that were possible.
Sir Richard's good fortune brought a gleam of joy to Frances, but it also brought a pang of regret, because it had come too late.

Her only purpose in going to Whitehall had been to marry a rich nobleman and thereby raise the fallen fortunes of her house.

Now that reason existed no longer, and if George were here, she could throw herself away upon him with injury to no one but herself.

But George was not here, and liberty to throw herself away had come too late to be of any value.
Every day during the fortnight that Frances remained at home, she asked if I had any news from court, meaning the French court, but using the form of inquiry to avoid acquainting her father and Sarah with the real cause of her solicitude.
But my answers were always, "Oh, nothing but Castlemain's new tantrum," or "The duke's defeat at pall-mall." Frances was the last girl in the world, save, perhaps Sarah, who I should have supposed capable of languishing and dying of love, but the former she did before my eyes, and the latter I almost began to fear if news did not reach us soon from George.
Betty came up to see Frances nearly every day, and the kissing and embracing that ensued disgusted Sarah.
"Now, if Frances were a man, I could understand it," said Sarah.