state, or for your own honour, rests with your Grace's conscience.'
The Queen turned to him with inexpressible sweetness of tone and manner, and that engaging look which Heaven had assigned her, as if to show that the choicest arts to win men's affections may be given in vain. 'Lindesay,' she said, 'you spoke not to me in this stern tone, and with such scurril taunt, yon fair summer evening, when you and I shot at the butts against the Earl of Mar and Mary Livingstone, and won of them the evening's collation, in the privy garden of Saint Andrews. The Master of Lindesay was then my friend, and vowed to be my soldier. How I have offended the Lord of Lindesay I know not, unless honours have changed manners.'
Hardhearted as he was, Lindesay seemed struck with this unexpected appeal, but almost instantly replied, 'Madam, it is well known that your Grace could in those days make fools of whomever approached you. I pretend not to have been wiser than others. But gayer men and better courtiers soon jostled aside my rude homage, and I think your Grace cannot but remember times, when my awkward attempts to take the manners that pleased you, were the sport of the court-popinjays, the Marys and the Frenchwomen.'
'My lord, I grieve if I have offended you through idle gaiety,' said the Queen; 'and can but say it was most unwittingly done. You are fully revenged; for through gaiety,' she said with a sigh, 'will I never offend any one more.'
'Our time is wasting, madam,' said Lord Ruthven; 'I must pray your decision on this weighty matter which I have submitted to you.'
'What, my lord!' said the Queen, 'upon the instant, and without a moment's time to deliberate??Can the Council, as they term themselves, expect this of me?'
'Madam,' replied Ruthven, 'the Council hold the opinion, that since the fatal term which passed betwixt the night of King Henry's murder and the day of Carberry-hill, your Grace should have held you prepared for the measure now proposed, as the easiest escape from your numerous dangers and difficulties.'
'Great God!' exclaimed the Queen; 'and is it as a boon that you propose to me, what every Christian king ought to regard as a loss of honour equal to the loss of life!?You take from me my crown, my power, my subjects, my wealth, my state. What, in the name of every saint, can you offer, or do you offer, in requital of my compliance?'
'We give you pardon,' answered Ruthven, sternly?'we give you space and means to spend your remaining life in penitence and seclusion?we give you time to make your peace with Heaven, and to receive the pure Gospel, which you have ever rejected and persecuted.'
The Queen turned pale at the menace which this speech, as well as the rough and inflexible tones of the speaker, seemed distinctly to infer?'And if I do not comply with your request so fiercely urged, my lord, what then follows?'
She said this in a voice in which female and natural fear was contending with the feelings of insulted dignity.?There was a pause, as if no one cared to return to the question a distinct answer. At length Ruthven spoke: 'There is little need to tell to your Grace, who are well read both in the laws and in the chronicles of the realm, that murder and adultery are crimes for which ere now queens themselves have suffered death.'
'And where, my lord, or how, found you an accusation so horrible, against her who stands before you?' said Queen Mary. 'The foul and odious calumnies which have poisoned the general mind of Scotland, and have placed me a helpless prisoner in your hands, are surely no proof of guilt?'
'We need look for no farther proof,' replied the stern Lord Ruthven, 'than the shameless marriage betwixt the widow of the murdered and the leader of the band of murderers!?They that joined hands in the fated month of May, had already united hearts and counsel in the deed which preceded that marriage but a few brief weeks.'
'My lord, my lord!' said the Queen, eagerly, 'remember well there were more consents than mine to that fatal union, that most unhappy act of a most unhappy life. The evil steps adopted by sovereigns are often the suggestion of bad counsellors; but these counsellors are worse than fiends who tempt and betray, if they themselves are the first to call their unfortunate princes to answer for the consequences of their own advice.?Heard ye never of a bond by the nobles, my lords, recommending that ill-fated union to the ill-fated Mary? Methinks, were it carefully examined, we should see that the names of Morton and of Lindesay, and of Ruthven, may be found in that bond, which pressed me to marry that unhappy man.?Ah! stout and loyal Lord Herries, who never knew guile or dishonour, you bent your noble knee to me in vain, to warn me of my danger, and wert yet the first to draw thy good sword in my cause when I suffered for neglecting thy counsel! Faithful knight and true noble, what a difference betwixt thee and those counsellors of evil, who now threaten my life for having fallen into the snares they spread for me!'
'Madam,' said Ruthven, 'we know that you are an orator; and perhaps for that reason the Council has sent hither men, whose converse hath been more with the wars, than with the language of the schools or the cabals of state. We but desire to know if, on assurance of life and honour, ye will demit the rule of this kingdom of Scotland?'
'And what warrant have I,' said the Queen, 'that ye will keep treaty with me, if I should barter my kingly estate for seclusion, and leave to weep in secret?'
'Our honour and our word, madam,' answered Ruthven.
'They are too slight and unsolid pledges, my lord,' said the Queen; 'add at least a handful of thistle-down to give them weight in the balance.'
'Away, Ruthven,' said Lindesay; 'she was ever deaf to counsel, save of slaves and sycophants; let her remain by her refusal, and abide by it!'
'Stay, my lord,' said Sir Robert Melville, 'or rather permit me to have but a few minutes' private audience with her Grace. If my presence with you could avail aught, it must be as a mediator?do not, I conjure you, leave the castle, or break off the conference, until I bring you word how her Grace shall finally stand disposed.'
'We will remain in the hall,' said Lindesay, 'for half an hour's space; but in despising our words and our pledge of honour, she has touched the honour of my name?let her look herself to the course she has to pursue. If the half hour should pass away without her determining to comply with the demands of the nation, her career will be brief enough.'
With little ceremony the two nobles left the apartment, traversed the vestibule, and descended the winding-stairs, the clash of Lindesay's huge sword being heard as it rang against each step in his descent. George Douglas followed them, after exchanging with Melville a gesture of surprise and sympathy.
As soon as they were gone, the Queen, giving way to grief, fear, and agitation, threw herself into the seat, wrung her hands, and seemed to abandon herself to despair. Her female attendants, weeping themselves,
