The Abbot Page 23

  Chapter the Twenty-First.

  Could valour aught avail or people's love, France had not wept Navarre's brave Henry slain; If wit or beauty could compassion move, The rose of Scotland had not wept in vain. _Elegy in a Royal Mausoleum._ LEWIS.

  At the gate of the court-yard of Lochleven appeared the stately form ofthe Lady Lochleven, a female whose early charms had captivated James V.,by whom she became mother of the celebrated Regent Murray. As she was ofnoble birth (being a daughter of the house of Mar) and of great beauty,her intimacy with James did not prevent her being afterwards sought inhonourable marriage by many gallants of the time, among whom she hadpreferred Sir William Douglas of Lochleven. But well has it been said

  ----"Our pleasant vices Are made the whips to scourge us"---

  The station which the Lady of Lochleven now held as the wife of a manof high rank and interest, and the mother of a lawful family, did notprevent her nourishing a painful sense of degradation, even while shewas proud of the talents, the power, and the station of her son, nowprime ruler of the state, but still a pledge of her illicit intercourse."Had James done to her," she said, in her secret heart, "the justice heowed her, she had seen in her son, as a source of unmixed delight and ofunchastened pride, the lawful monarch of Scotland, and one of theablest who ever swayed the sceptre." The House of Mar, not inferior inantiquity or grandeur to that of Drummond, would then have also boasteda Queen among its daughters, and escaped the stain attached to femalefrailty, even when it has a royal lover for its apology. While suchfeelings preyed on a bosom naturally proud and severe, they had acorresponding effect on her countenance, where, with the remains ofgreat beauty, were mingled traits of inward discontent and peevishmelancholy. It perhaps contributed to increase this habitualtemperament, that the Lady Lochleven had adopted uncommonly rigid andsevere views of religion, imitating in her ideas of reformed faiththe very worst errors of the Catholics, in limiting the benefit of thegospel to those who profess their own speculative tenets.

  In every respect, the unfortunate Queen Mary, now the compulsory guest,or rather prisoner, of this sullen lady, was obnoxious to her hostess.Lady Lochleven disliked her as the daughter of Mary of Guise, the legalpossessor of those rights over James's heart and hand, of which sheconceived herself to have been injuriously deprived; and yet more so asthe professor of a religion which she detested worse than Paganism.

  Such was the dame, who, with stately mien, and sharp yet handsomefeatures, shrouded by her black velvet coif, interrogated the domesticwho steered her barge to the shore, what had become of Lindesay andSir Robert Melville. The man related what had passed, and she smiledscornfully as she replied, "Fools must be flattered, not foughtenwith.--Row back--make thy excuse as thou canst--say Lord Ruthvenhath already reached this castle, and that he is impatient for LordLindesay's presence. Away with thee, Randal--yet stay--what galopin isthat thou hast brought hither?"

  "So please you, my lady, he is the page who is to wait upon----"

  "Ay, the new male minion," said the Lady Lochleven; "the femaleattendant arrived yesterday. I shall have a well-ordered house with thislady and her retinue; but I trust they will soon find some others toundertake such a charge. Begone, Randal--and you" (to Roland Graeme)"follow me to the garden."

  She led the way with a slow and stately step to the small garden, which,enclosed by a stone wall ornamented with statues, and an artificialfountain in the centre, extended its dull parterres on the side ofthe court-yard, with which it communicated by a low and arched portal.Within the narrow circuit of its formal and limited walks, Mary Stewartwas now learning to perform the weary part of a prisoner, which, withlittle interval, she was doomed to sustain during the remainder of herlife. She was followed in her slow and melancholy exercise by two femaleattendants; but in the first glance which Roland Graeme bestowedupon one so illustrious by birth, so distinguished by her beauty,accomplishments, and misfortunes, he was sensible of the presence of noother than the unhappy Queen of Scotland.

  Her face, her form, have been so deeply impressed upon the imagination,that even at the distance of nearly three centuries, it is unnecessaryto remind the most ignorant and uninformed reader of the striking traitswhich characterize that remarkable countenance, which seems at onceto combine our ideas of the majestic, the pleasing, and the brilliant,leaving us to doubt whether they express most happily the queen, thebeauty, or the accomplished woman. Who is there, that, at the verymention of Mary Stewart's name, has not her countenance before him,familiar as that of the mistress of his youth, or the favourite daughterof his advanced age? Even those who feel themselves compelled to believeall, or much, of what her enemies laid to her charge, cannot thinkwithout a sigh upon a countenance expressive of anything rather thanthe foul crimes with which she was charged when living, and which stillcontinue to shade, if not to blacken, her memory. That brow, so trulyopen and regal--those eyebrows, so regularly graceful, which yet weresaved from the charge of regular insipidity by the beautiful effect ofthe hazel eyes which they overarched, and which seem to utter a thousandhistories--the nose, with all its Grecian precision of outline--themouth, so well proportioned, so sweetly formed, as if designed to speaknothing but what was delightful to hear--the dimpled chin--the statelyswan-like neck, form a countenance, the like of which we know not tohave existed in any other character moving in that class of life,where the actresses as well as the actors command general and undividedattention. It is in vain to say that the portraits which exist of thisremarkable woman are not like each other; for, amidst their discrepancy,each possesses general features which the eye at once acknowledges aspeculiar to the vision which our imagination has raised while we readher history for the first time, and which has been impressed upon it bythe numerous prints and pictures which we have seen. Indeed we cannotlook on the worst of them, however deficient in point of execution,without saying that it is meant for Queen Mary; and no small instanceit is of the power of beauty, that her charms should have remained thesubject not merely of admiration, but of warm and chivalrous interest,after the lapse of such a length of time. We know that by far the mostacute of those who, in latter days, have adopted the unfavourable viewof Mary's character, longed, like the executioner before his dreadfultask was performed, to kiss the fair hand of her on whom he was about toperform so horrible a duty.

  Dressed, then, in a deep mourning robe, and with all those charms offace, shape, and manner, with which faithful tradition has made eachreader familiar, Mary Stewart advanced to meet the Lady of Lochleven,who, on her part, endeavoured to conceal dislike and apprehension underthe appearance of respectful indifference. The truth was, that shehad experienced repeatedly the Queen's superiority in that species ofdisguised yet cutting sarcasm, with which women can successfully avengethemselves, for real and substantial injuries. It may be well doubted,whether this talent was not as fatal to its possessor as the many othersenjoyed by that highly gifted, but most unhappy female; for, while itoften afforded her a momentary triumph over her keepers, it failed notto exasperate their resentment; and the satire and sarcasm in which shehad indulged were frequently retaliated by the deep and bitter hardshipswhich they had the power of inflicting. It is well known that her deathwas at length hastened by a letter which she wrote to Queen Elizabeth,in which she treated her jealous rival, and the Countess of Shrewsbury,with the keenest irony and ridicule.

  As the ladies met together, the Queen said, bending her head at the sametime, in return to the obeisance of the Lady Lochleven, "We are thisday fortunate--we enjoy the company of our amiable hostess at an unusualhour, and during a period which we have hitherto been permitted to giveto our private exercise. But our good hostess knows well she has at alltimes access to our presence, and need not observe the useless ceremonyof requiring our permission."

  "I am sorry my presence is deemed an intrusion by your Grace," said theLady of Lochleven. "I came but to announce the arrival of an additionto your train," motioning with her hand towards Roland Graeme; "acircu
mstance to which ladies are seldom indifferent."

  "Oh! I crave your ladyship's pardon; and am bent to the earth withobligations for the kindness of my nobles--or my sovereigns, shall Icall them?--who have permitted me such a respectable addition to mypersonal retinue."

  "They have indeed studied, Madam," said the Lady of Lochleven, "to showtheir kindness towards your Grace--something at the risk perhaps ofsound policy, and I trust their doings will not be misconstrued."

  "Impossible!" said the Queen; "the bounty which permits the daughter ofso many kings, and who yet is Queen of the realm, the attendance oftwo waiting-women and a boy, is a grace which Mary Stewart can neversufficiently acknowledge. Why! my train will be equal to that of anycountry dame in this your kingdom of Fife, saving but the lack of agentleman-usher, and a pair or two of blue-coated serving-men. But Imust not forget, in my selfish joy, the additional trouble and chargesto which this magnificent augmentation of our train will put our kindhostess, and the whole house of Lochleven. It is this prudent anxiety, Iam aware, which clouds your brows, my worthy lady. But be of good cheer;the crown of Scotland has many a fair manor, and your affectionate son,and my no less affectionate brother, will endow the good knight yourhusband with the best of them, ere Mary should be dismissed from thishospitable castle from your ladyship's lack of means to support thecharges."

  "The Douglasses of Lochleven, madam," answered the lady, "have knownfor ages how to discharge their duty to the State, without looking forreward, even when the task was both irksome and dangerous."

  "Nay! but, my dear Lochleven," said the Queen, "you are overscrupulous--I pray you accept of a goodly manor; what should supportthe Queen of Scotland in this her princely court, saving her owncrown-lands--and who should minister to the wants of a mother, save anaffectionate son like the Earl of Murray, who possesses so wonderfullyboth the power and inclination?--Or said you it was the danger of thetask which clouded your smooth and hospitable brow?--No doubt, a page isa formidable addition to my body-guard of females; and I bethink me itmust have been for that reason that my Lord of Lindesay refused evennow to venture within the reach of a force so formidable, without beingattended by a competent retinue."

  The Lady Lochleven started, and looked something surprised; and Marysuddenly changing her manner from the smooth ironical affectation ofmildness to an accent of austere command, and drawing up at the sametime her fine person, said, with the full majesty of her rank, "Yes!Lady of Lochleven; I know that Ruthven is already in the castle, andthat Lindesay waits on the bank the return of your barge to bring himhither along with Sir Robert Melville. For what purpose do these noblescome--and why am I not in ordinary decency apprised of their arrival?"'

  "Their purpose, madam," replied the Lady of Lochleven, "they mustthemselves explain--but a formal annunciation were needless, where yourGrace hath attendants who can play the espial so well."

  "Alas! poor Fleming," said the Queen, turning to the elder of the femaleattendants, "thou wilt be tried, condemned, and gibbeted, for a spy inthe garrison, because thou didst chance to cross the great hall while mygood Lady of Lochleven was parleying at the full pitch of her voice withher pilot Randal. Put black wool in thy ears, girl, as you value thewearing of them longer. Remember, in the Castle of Lochleven, ears andtongues are matters not of use, but for show merely. Our good hostesscan hear, as well as speak, for us all. We excuse your fartherattendance, my lady hostess," she said, once more addressing the objectof her resentment, "and retire to prepare for an interview with ourrebel lords. We will use the ante-chamber of our sleeping apartment asour hall of audience. You, young man," she proceeded, addressing RolandGraeme, and at once softening the ironical sharpness of her manner intogood-humoured raillery, "you, who are all our male attendance, from ourLord High Chamberlain down to our least galopin, follow us to prepareour court."

  She turned, and walked slowly towards the castle. The Lady of Lochlevenfolded her arms, and smiled in bitter resentment, as she watched herretiring steps.

  "The whole male attendance!" she muttered, repeating the Queen's lastwords, "and well for thee had it been had thy train never been larger;"then turning to Roland, in whose way she had stood while making thispause, she made room for him to pass, saying at the same time, "Art thoualready eaves-dropping? follow thy mistress, minion, and, if thou wilt,tell her what I have now said."

  Roland Graeme hastened after his royal mistress and her attendants, whohad just entered a postern-gate communicating betwixt the castle and thesmall garden. They ascended a winding-stair as high as the second story,which was in a great measure occupied by a suite of three rooms, openinginto each other, and assigned as the dwelling of the captive Princess.The outermost was a small hall or ante-room, within which opened alarge parlour, and from that again the Queen's bedroom. Another smallapartment, which opened into the same parlour, contained the beds of thegentlewomen in waiting.

  Roland Graeme stopped, as became his station, in the outermost of theseapartments, there to await such orders as might be communicated to him.From the grated window of the room he saw Lindesay, Melville, and theirfollowers disembark; and observed that they were met at the castle gateby a third noble, to whom Lindesay exclaimed, in his loud harsh voice,"My Lord of Ruthven, you have the start of us!"

  At this instant, the page's attention was called to a burst ofhysterical sobs from the inner apartment, and to the hurriedejaculations of the terrified females, which led him almost instantly tohasten to their assistance. When he entered, he saw that the Queen hadthrown herself into the large chair which stood nearest the door, andwas sobbing for breath in a strong fit of hysterical affection. Theelder female supported her in her arms, while the younger bathed herface with water and with tears alternately.

  "Hasten, young man!" said the elder lady, in alarm, "fly--call inassistance--she is swooning!"

  But the Queen ejaculated in a faint and broken voice, "Stir not, Icharge you!--call no one to witness--I am better--I shall recoverinstantly." And, indeed, with an effort which seemed like that of onestruggling for life, she sate up in her chair, and endeavoured to resumeher composure, while her features yet trembled with the violent emotionof body and mind which she had undergone. "I am ashamed of my weakness,girls," she said, taking the hands of her attendants; "but it isover--and I am Mary Stewart once more. The savage tone of that man'svoice--my knowledge of his insolence--the name which he named--thepurpose for which they come--may excuse a moment's weakness, and itshall be a moment's only." She snatched from her head the curch or cap,which had been disordered during her hysterical agony, shook down thethick clustered tresses of dark brown which had been before veiled underit--and, drawing her slender fingers across the labyrinth which theyformed, she arose from the chair, and stood like the inspired image of aGrecian prophetess in a mood which partook at once of sorrow and pride,of smiles and of tears. "We are ill appointed," she said, "to meetour rebel subjects; but, as far as we may, we will strive to presentourselves as becomes their Queen. Follow me, my maidens," she said;"what says thy favourite song, my Fleming?

  'My maids, come to my dressing-bower, And deck my nut-brown hair; Where'er ye laid a plait before, Look ye lay ten times 'mair.'

  "Alas!" she added, when she had repeated with a smile these lines of anold ballad, "violence has already robbed me of the ordinary decorationsof my rank; and the few that nature gave me have been destroyed bysorrow and by fear." Yet while she spoke thus, she again let her slenderfingers stray through the wilderness of the beautiful tresses whichveiled her kingly neck and swelling bosom, as if, in her agony of mind,she had not altogether lost the consciousness of her unrivalled charms.Roland Graeme, on whose youth, inexperience, and ardent sense of whatwas dignified and lovely, the demeanour of so fair and high-born a ladywrought like the charm of a magician, stood rooted to the spot withsurprise and interest, longing to hazard his life in a quarrel sofair as that which Mary Stewart's must needs be. She had been bred inFrance--she was possessed of the most distinguished beauty--she had
reigned a Queen and a Scottish Queen, to whom knowledge of character wasas essential as the use of vital air. In all these capacities, Marywas, of all women on the earth, most alert at perceiving and using theadvantages which her charms gave her over almost all who came within thesphere of their influence. She cast on Roland a glance which might havemelted a heart of stone. "My poor boy," she said, with a feeling partlyreal, partly politic, "thou art a stranger to us--sent to this dolefulcaptivity from the society of some tender mother, or sister, or maiden,with whom you had freedom to tread a gay measure round the Maypole. Igrieve for you; but you are the only male in my limited household--wiltthou obey my orders?"

  "To the death, madam," said Graeme, in a determined tone.

  "Then keep the door of mine apartment," said the Queen; "keep it tillthey offer actual violence, or till we shall be fitly arrayed to receivethese intrusive visiters."

  "I will defend it till they pass over my body," said Roland Graeme; anyhesitation which he had felt concerning the line of conduct he ought topursue being completely swept away by the impulse of the moment.

  "Not so, my good youth," answered Mary; "not so, I command. If I haveone faithful subject beside me, much need, God wot, I have to care forhis safety. Resist them but till they are put to the shame of usingactual violence, and then give way, I charge you. Remember my commands."And, with a smile expressive at once of favour and of authority, sheturned from him, and, followed by her attendants, entered the bedroom.

  The youngest paused for half a second ere she followed her companion,and made a signal to Roland Graeme with her hand. He had been alreadylong aware that this was Catherine Seyton--a circumstance which couldnot much surprise a youth of quick intellects, who recollected the sortof mysterious discourse which had passed betwixt the two matrons at thedeserted nunnery, and on which his meeting with Catherine in this placeseemed to cast so much light. Yet such was the engrossing effect ofMary's presence, that it surmounted for the moment even the feelings ofa youthful lover; and it was not until Catherine Seyton had disappeared,that Roland began to consider in what relation they were to stand toeach other. "She held up her hand to me in a commanding manner," hethought; "perhaps she wanted to confirm my purpose for the execution ofthe Queen's commands; for I think she could scarce purpose to scare mewith the sort of discipline which she administered to the groom in thefrieze-jacket, and to poor Adam Woodcock. But we will see to that anon;meantime, let us do justice to the trust reposed in us by this unhappyQueen. I think my Lord of Murray will himself own that it is the duty ofa faithful page to defend his lady against intrusion on her privacy."

  Accordingly, he stepped to the little vestibule, made fast, with lockand bar, the door which opened from thence to the large staircase, andthen sat himself down to attend the result. He had not long to wait--arude and strong hand first essayed to lift the latch, then pushed andshook the door with violence, and, when it resisted his attempt to openit, exclaimed, "Undo the door there, you within!"

  "Why, and at whose command," said the page, "am I to undo the door ofthe apartments of the Queen of Scotland?"

  Another vain attempt, which made hinge and bolt jingle, showed thatthe impatient applicant without would willingly have entered altogetherregardless of his challenge; but at length an answer was returned.

  "Undo the door, on your peril--the Lord Lindesay comes to speak with theLady Mary of Scotland."

  "The Lord Lindesay, as a Scottish noble," answered the page, "must awaithis Sovereign's leisure."

  An earnest altercation ensued amongst those without, in which Rolanddistinguished the remarkable harsh voice of Lindesay in reply toSir Robert Melville, who appeared to have been using some soothinglanguage--"No! no! no! I tell thee, no! I will place a petard againstthe door rather than be baulked by a profligate woman, and bearded by aninsolent footboy."

  "Yet, at least," said Melville, "let me try fair means in the firstinstance. Violence to a lady would stain your scutcheon for ever. Orawait till my Lord Ruthven comes."

  "I will await no longer," said Lindesay; "it is high time the businesswere done, and we on our return to the council. But thou mayest try thyfair play, as thou callest it, while I cause my train to prepare thepetard. I came hither provided with as good gunpowder as blew up theKirk of Field."

  "For God's sake, be patient," said Melville; and, approaching the door,he said, as speaking to those within, "Let the Queen know, that I, herfaithful servant, Robert Melville, do entreat her, for her own sake, andto prevent worse consequences, that she will undo the door, and admitLord Lindesay, who brings a mission from the Council of State."

  "I will do your errand to the Queen," said the page, "and report to youher answer."

  He went to the door of the bedchamber, and tapping against it gently, itwas opened by the elderly lady, to whom he communicated his errand, andreturned with directions from the Queen to admit Sir Robert Melville andLord Lindesay. Roland Graeme returned to the vestibule, and opened thedoor accordingly, into which the Lord Lindesay strode, with the air ofa soldier who has fought his way into a conquered fortress; whileMelville, deeply dejected, followed him more slowly.

  "I draw you to witness, and to record," said the page to this last,"that, save for the especial commands of the Queen, I would have madegood the entrance, with my best strength, and my best blood, against allScotland."

  "Be silent, young man," said Melville, in a tone of grave rebuke; "addnot brands to fire--this is no time to make a flourish of thy boyishchivalry."

  "She has not appeared even yet," said Lindesay, who had now reached themidst of the parlour or audience-room; "how call you this trifling?"

  "Patience, my lord," replied Sir Robert, "time presses not--and LordRuthven hath not as yet descended."

  At this moment the door of the inner apartment opened, and Queen Marypresented herself, advancing with an air of peculiar grace and majesty,and seeming totally unruffled, either by the visit, or by the rudemanner in which it had been enforced. Her dress was a robe of blackvelvet; a small ruff, open in front, gave a full view of her beautifullyformed chin and neck, but veiled the bosom. On her head she wore a smallcap of lace, and a transparent white veil hung from her shoulders overthe long black robe, in large loose folds, so that it could be drawn atpleasure over the face and person. She wore a cross of gold around herneck, and had her rosary of gold and ebony hanging from her girdle. Shewas closely followed by her two ladies, who remained standing behind herduring the conference. Even Lord Lindesay, though the rudest nobleof that rude age, was surprised into something like respect by theunconcerned and majestic mien of her, whom he had expected to findfrantic with impotent passion, or dissolved in useless and vain sorrow,or overwhelmed with the fears likely in such a situation to assailfallen royalty.

  "We fear we have detained you, my Lord of Lindesay," said the Queen,while she curtsied with dignity in answer to his reluctant obeisance;"but a female does not willingly receive her visiters without someminutes spent at the toilette. Men, my lord, are less dependant on suchceremonies."

  Lord Lindesay, casting his eye down on his own travel-stained anddisordered dress, muttered something of a hasty journey, and the Queenpaid her greeting to Sir Robert Melville with courtesy, and even, asit seemed, with kindness. There was then a dead pause, during whichLindesay looked towards the door, as if expecting with impatience thecolleague of their embassy. The Queen alone was entirely unembarrassed,and, as if to break the silence, she addressed Lord Lindesay, witha glance at the large and cumbrous sword which he wore, as alreadymentioned, hanging from his neck.

  "You have there a trusty and a weighty travelling companion, my lord.I trust you expected to meet with no enemy here, against whom sucha formidable weapon could be necessary? it is, methinks, somewhat asingular ornament for a court, though I am, as I well need to be, toomuch of a Stuart to fear a sword."

  "It is not the first time, madam," replied Lindesay, bringing round theweapon so as to rest its point on the ground, and leaning one hand onthe huge cross
-handle, "it is not the first time that this weapon hasintruded itself into the presence of the House of Stewart."

  "Possibly, my lord," replied the Queen, "it may have done service to myancestors--Your ancestors were men of loyalty"

  "Ay, madam," replied he, "service it hath done; but such as kings loveneither to acknowledge nor to reward. It was the service which the kniferenders to the tree when trimming it to the quick, and depriving it ofthe superfluous growth of rank and unfruitful suckers, which rob it ofnourishment."

  "You talk riddles, my lord," said Mary; "I will hope the explanationcarries nothing insulting with it."

  "You shall judge, madam," answered Lindesay. "With this good sword wasArchibald Douglas, Earl of Angus, girded on the memorable day when heacquired the name of Bell-the-Cat, for dragging from the presence ofyour great grandfather, the third James of the race, a crew of minions,flatterers, and favourites whom he hanged over the bridge of Lauder,as a warning to such reptiles how they approach a Scottish throne. Withthis same weapon, the same inflexible champion of Scottish honourand nobility slew at one blow Spens of Kilspindie, a courtier of yourgrandfather, James the fourth, who had dared to speak lightly of himin the royal presence. They fought near the brook of Fala; andBell-the-Cat, with this blade, sheared through the thigh of hisopponent, and lopped the limb as easily as a shepherd's boy slices atwig from a sapling."

  "My lord," replied the Queen, reddening, "my nerves are too good tobe alarmed even by this terrible history--May I ask how a bladeso illustrious passed from the House of Douglas to that ofLindesay?--Methinks it should have been preserved as a consecratedrelic, by a family who have held all that they could do against theirking, to be done in favour of their country."

  "Nay, madam," said Melville, anxiously interfering, "ask notthat question of Lord Lindesay--And you, my lord, for shame--fordecency--forbear to reply to it."

  "It is time that this lady should hear the truth," replied Lindesay.

  "And be assured," said the Queen, "that she will be moved to anger bynone that you can tell her, my lord. There are cases in which just scornhas always the mastery over just anger."

  "Then know," said Lindesay, "that upon the field of Carberry-hill, whenthat false and infamous traitor and murderer, James, sometime Earl ofBothwell, and nicknamed Duke of Orkney, offered to do personal battlewith any of the associated nobles who came to drag him to justice, Iaccepted his challenge, and was by the noble Earl of Morton giftedwith his good sword that I might therewith fight it out--Ah! so help meHeaven, had his presumption been one grain more, or his cowardice onegrain less, I should have done such work with this good steel on histraitorous corpse, that the hounds and carrion-crows should have foundtheir morsels daintily carved to their use !"

  The Queen's courage well-nigh gave way at the mention of Bothwell'sname--a name connected with such a train of guilt, shame, and disaster.But the prolonged boast of Lindesay gave her time to rally herself, andto answer with an appearance of cold contempt--"It is easy to slayan enemy who enters not the lists. But had Mary Stewart inherited herfather's sword as well as his sceptre, the boldest of her rebels shouldnot upon that day have complained that they had no one to cope withal.Your lordship will forgive me if I abridge this conference. A briefdescription of a bloody fight is long enough to satisfy a lady'scuriosity; and unless my Lord of Lindesay has something more importantto tell us than of the deeds which old Bell-the-Cat achieved, and how hewould himself have emulated them, had time and tide permitted, we willretire to our private apartment, and you, Fleming, shall finish readingto us yonder little treatise _Des Rodomontades Espagnolles_."

  "Tarry, madam," said Lindesay, his complexion reddening in his turn, "Iknow your quick wit too well of old to have sought an interview thatyou might sharpen its edge at the expense of my honour. Lord Ruthven andmyself, with Sir Robert Melville as a concurrent, come to your Grace onthe part of the Secret Council, to tender to you what much concerns thesafety of your own life and the welfare of the State."

  "The Secret Council?" said the Queen; "by what powers can it subsist oract, while I, from whom it holds its character, am here detained underunjust restraint? But it matters not--what concerns the welfare ofScotland shall be acceptable to Mary Stewart, come from whatever quarterit will--and for what concerns her own life, she has lived long enoughto be weary of it, even at the age of twenty-five.--Where is yourcolleague, my lord?--why tarries he?"

  "He comes, madam," said Melville, and Lord Ruthven entered at theinstant, holding in his hand a packet. As the Queen returned hissalutation she became deadly pale, but instantly recovered herselfby dint of strong and sudden resolution, just as the noble, whoseappearance seemed to excite such emotions in her bosom, entered theapartment in company with George Douglas, the youngest son of the Knightof Lochleven, who, during the absence of his father and brethren,acted as Seneschal of the Castle, under the direction of the elder LadyLochleven, his father's mother.