As she advanced to the door, the voice of Catherine Seyton was heard from within?'No one can enter here?the Queen sleeps.'
'I will not be controlled, young lady,' replied the Lady of Lochleven; 'there is, I wot, no inner bar, and I will enter in your despite.'
'There is, indeed, no inner bar,' answered Catherine, firmly, 'but there are the staples where that bar should be; and into those staples have I thrust mine arm, like an ancestress of your own, when, better employed than the Douglasses of our days, she thus defended the bedchamber of her sovereign against murderers. Try your force, then, and see whether a Seyton cannot rival in courage a maiden of the house of Douglas.'
'I dare not attempt the pass at such risk,' said the Lady of Lochleven: 'Strange, that this Princess, with all that justly attaches to her as blameworthy, should preserve such empire over the minds of her attendants.?Damsel, I give thee my honour that I come for the Queen's safety and advantage. Awaken her, if thou lovest her, and pray her leave that I may enter?I will retire from the door the whilst.'
'Thou wilt not awaken the Queen?' said the Lady Fleming.
'What choice have we?' said the ready-witted maiden, 'unless you deem it better to wait till the Lady Lochleven herself plays lady of the bedchamber. Her fit of patience will not last long, and the Queen must be prepared to meet her.'
'But thou wilt bring back her Grace's fit by thus disturbing her.'
'Heaven forbid!' replied Catherine; 'but if so, it must pass for an effect of the poison. I hope better things, and that the Queen will be able when she wakes to form her own judgment in this terrible crisis. Meanwhile, do thou, dear Lady Fleming, practise to look as dull and heavy as the alertness of thy spirit will permit.'
Catherine kneeled by the side of the Queen's bed, and, kissing her hand repeatedly, succeeded at last in awakening without alarming her. She seemed surprised to find that she was ready dressed, but sate up in her bed, and appeared so perfectly composed, that Catherine Seyton, without farther preamble, judged it safe to inform her of the predicament in which they were placed. Mary turned pale, and crossed herself again and again, when she heard the imminent danger in which she had stood. But, like the Ulysses of Homer,
?Hardly waking yet, Sprung in her mind the momentary wit,
and she at once understood her situation, with the dangers and advantages that attended it.
'We cannot do better,' she said, after her hasty conference with Catherine, pressing her at the same time to her bosom, and kissing her forehead; 'we cannot do better than to follow the scheme so happily devised by thy quick wit and bold affection. Undo the door to the Lady Lochleven?She shall meet her match in art, though not in perfidy. Fleming, draw close the curtain, and get thee behind it?thou art a better tire-woman than an actress; do but breathe heavily, and, if thou wilt, groan slightly, and it will top thy part. Hark! they come. Now, Catherine of Medicis, may thy spirit inspire me, for a cold northern brain is too blunt for this scene!'
Ushered by Catherine Seyton, and stepping as light as she could, the Lady Lochleven was shown into the twilight apartment, and conducted to the side of the couch, where Mary, pallid and exhausted from a sleepless night, and the subsequent agitation of the morning, lay extended so listlessly as might well confirm the worst fears of her hostess.
'Now, God forgive us our sins!' said the Lady of Lochleven, forgetting her pride, and throwing herself on her knees by the side of the bed; 'It is too true?she is murdered!'
'Who is in the chamber?' said Mary, as if awaking from a heavy sleep. 'Seyton, Fleming, where are you? I heard a strange voice. Who waits? ?Call Courcelles.'
'Alas! her memory is at Holyrood, though her body is at Lochleven.? Forgive, madam,' continued the Lady, 'if I call your attention to me?I am Margaret Erskine, of the house of Mar, by marriage Lady Douglas of Lochleven.'
'Oh, our gentle hostess,' answered the Queen, 'who hath such care of our lodgings and of our diet?We cumber you too much and too long, good Lady of Lochleven; but we now trust your task of hospitality is well-nigh ended.'
'Her words go like a knife through my heart,' said the Lady of Lochleven?'With a breaking heart, I pray your Grace to tell me what is your ailment, that aid may be had, if there be yet time.'
'Nay, my ailment,' replied the Queen, 'is nothing worth telling, or worth a leech's notice?my limbs feel heavy?my heart feels cold?a prisoner's limbs and heart are rarely otherwise?fresh air, methinks, and freedom, would soon revive me; but as the Estates have ordered it, death alone can break my prison-doors.'
'Were it possible, madam,' said the Lady, 'that your liberty could restore your perfect health, I would myself encounter the resentment of the Regent?of my son, Sir William?of my whole friends, rather than you should meet your fate in this castle.'
'Alas! madam,' said the Lady Fleming, who conceived the time propitious to show that her own address had been held too lightly of; 'it is but trying what good freedom may work upon us; for myself, I think a free walk on the greensward would do me much good at heart.'
The Lady of Lochleven rose from the bedside, and darted a penetrating look at the elder valetudinary. 'Are you so evil-disposed, Lady Fleming?'
'Evil-disposed indeed, madam,' replied the court dame, 'and more especially since breakfast.'
'Help! help!' exclaimed Catherine, anxious to break off a conversation which boded her schemes no good; 'help! I say, help! the Queen is about to pass away. Aid her, Lady Lochleven, if you be a woman!'
The Lady hastened to support the Queen's head, who, turning her eyes towards her with an air of great languor, exclaimed, 'Thanks, my dearest Lady of Lochleven?notwithstanding some passages of late, I have never misconstrued or misdoubted your affection to our house. It was proved, as I have heard, before I was born.'
The Lady Lochleven sprung from the floor, on which she had again knelt, and, having paced the apartment in great disorder, flung open the lattice, as if to get air.
'Now, Our Lady forgive me!' said Catherine to herself. 'How deep must the love of sarcasm, be implanted in the breasts of us women, since the Queen, with all her sense, will risk ruin rather than rein in her wit!' She then adventured, stooping over the Queen's person, to press her arm with her hand, saying, at the same time, 'For God's sake, madam, restrain yourself!'
