In the name of God, what does this mean?" said the page; "or what was there in the Lady Fleming's words to excite so wild a transport ?" "O, the Lady Fleming, the Lady Fleming," said Catherine, repeating the words impatiently; "the Lady Fleming is a fool-she loves her mistress, yet knows so little how to express her love, that were the Queen to ask her for very poison, she would deem it a point of duty not to resist her commands. I could have torn her starched head-tire from her formal head-The Queen should have as soon had the heart out of my body, as the word Sebastian out of my lips-That that piece of weaved tapestry should be a woman, and yet not have wit enough to tell a lie !" "And what was this story of Sebastian?" said the page. "By heaven, Catherine, you are all riddles alike!" "You are as great a fool as Fleming," returned the impatient maiden; "know ye not, that on the night of Henry Darnley's murder, and at the blowing up of the Kirk of Field, the Queen's absence was owing to her attending on a masque at Holyrood, given by her to grace the marriage of this same Sebastian, who, himself a favoured servant, married one of her female attendants who was near to her person?" 66 By Saint Giles," said the page, "I wonder not at her passion, but only marvel by what forgetfulness it was that she could urge the Lady Fleming with such a ques tion." "I cannot account for it," said Catherine; "but it seems as if great and violent grief or horror sometimes obscure the memory, and spread a cloud like that of an exploding cannon, over the circumstances with which they are accompanied. But I may not stay here, where I came not to moralize with your wisdom, but simply to cool my resentment against that unwise Lady Fleming, which I think hath now somewhat abated, so that I shall endure her presence without any desire to damage either her curch or vasquine. Meanwhile, keep fast that door -I would not for my life that any of these heretics saw her in the unhappy state, which, brought on her as it has been by the success of their own diabolical plottings, they would not stick to call, in their snuffling cant, the judgment of Providence." She left the apartment just as the latch of the outward door was raised from without. But the bolt which Roland had drawn on the inside, resisted the efforts of the person desirous to enter. "Who is there?" said Græme aloud. "It is 1," replied the harsh and yet low voice of the steward Dryfesdale. "You cannot enter now," returned the youth. "And wherefore?" demanded Dryfesdale, "seeing I come but to do my duty, and inquire what mean the shrieks from the apartment of the Moabitish woman. Wherefore, I say, since such is mine errand, can I not enter ?" Simply," replied the youth, "because the bolt is drawn, and I have no fancy to undo it. I have the right side of the door to-day, as you had last night." "Thou art ill-advised, thou malapert boy," replied the steward, "to speak to me in such fashion; but I shall inform my lady of thine insolence." "The insolence," said the page, "is meant for thee only, in fair guerdon of thy discourtesy to me. For thy lady's information, I have answer more courteous-you may say that the Queen is ill at ease, and desires to be disturbed neither by visits nor messages." 66 "I conjure you, in the name of God," said the old man, with more solemnity in his tone than he had hitherto used, "to let me know if her malady really gains power on her!" "She will have no aid at your hand, or at your lady's wherefore, begone, and trouble us no more-we neither want, nor will accept of, aid at your hands." With this positive reply, the steward, grumbling, and dissatisfied, returned down stairs. CHAPTER XII. It is the curse of kings to be attended By slaves, who take their humours for a warrant And on the winking of authority To understand a law. King John. THE Lady of Lochleven sat alone in her chamber, endeavouring, with sincere, but imperfect zeal, to fix her eyes and her attention on the black-letter Bible which lay before her, bound in velvet and embroidery, and adorned with massive silver clasps and knosps. But she found her utmost efforts unable to withdraw her mind from the resentful recollection of what had last night passed betwixt her and the Queen, in which the latter had with such bitter taunt reminded her of her early and long-repented transgression. Why, she said, should I resent so deeply, that another reproaches me with that which I have never ceased to make matter of blushing to myself? and yet, why should this woman, who reaps-at least, has reaped-the fruits of my folly, and has jostled my son aside from the throne, why should she, in the face of all my domestics, and of her own, dare to upbraid me with my shame? Is she not in my power? Does she not fear me? Ha! wily tempter, I will wrestle with thee strongly, and with better suggestions than my own evil heart can supply! She again took up the sacred volume, and was endeavouring to fix her attention on its contents, when she was disturbed by a tap at the door of the room. It opened at her command, and the Steward Dryfesdale entered, and stood before her with a gloomy and perturbed expression on his brow "What has chanced, Dryfesdale, "that thou lookest thus ?" said his Mistress-" Have there been evil tidings of my son, or of my grandchildren ?” "No, lady," replied Dryfesdale, "but you were deeply insulted last night, and I fear me thou art as deeply avenged this morning-Where is the chaplain ?" "What mean you by hints so dark, and a question so sudden? The chaplain, as you well know, is absent at Perth upon an assembly of the brethren." "I care not," answered the steward; "he is but a priest of Baal." 66 Dryfesdale," said the lady, sternly, "what meanest thou? I have ever heard, that in the Low Countries thou didst herd with the Anabaptist preachers, those boars which tear up the vintage-But the ministry which suits me and my house must content my retainers." "I would I had good ghostly counsel though," replied the steward, not attending to his Mistress's rebuke, and seeming to speak to himself, "this woman of Moab❞— "Speak of her with reverence," said the lady; "she is a king's daughter." "Be it so," replied Dryfesdale ; "she goes where there is little difference betwixt her and a beggar's child -Mary of Scotland is dying." 66 Dying, and in my castle!" said the lady, starting up in alarm; "of what disease, or by what accident?" "Bear patience, lady. The ministry was mine.' "Thine, villain and traitor!-how didst thou dare”"I heard you insulted, lady-I heard you demand vengeance-I promised you should have it, and I now bring tidings of it." "Dryfesdale, I trust thou ravest ?" "I rave not," replied the steward. written of me a million of years ere be executed by me. I said the lady. "That which was saw the light, must She hath that in her veins that, I fear me, will soon stop the springs of life." "Cruel villain," exclaimed the lady, "thou hast not poisoned her? And if I had," said Dryfesdale, what does it so greatly merit? Men bane vermin-why not rid them of their enemies so? in Italy they will do it for a cruizedor." "Cowardly ruffian, begone from my sight!" "Think better of my zeal, lady," said the steward, "and judge not without looking around you. Lindesay, Ruthven, and your kinsman Morton poniarded Rizzio, and yet you now see no blood on their embroidery-the Lord Semple stabbed the Lord of Sanquhardoes his bonnet sit a jot more awry on his brow? What noble lives in Scotland who has not had a share, for policy or revenge, in some such dealing ?-and who imputes it to them? Be not cheated with names—a dagger or a draught work to the same end, and are little unlike—a glass phial imprisons the one, and a leathern sheath the other one deals with the brain, the other sluices the blood-Yet, I say not I gave aught to this lady." "What dost thou mean by thus dallying with me ?" said the lady; "as thou wouldst save thy neck from the rope it merits, tell me the whole truth of this storythou hast long been known a dangerous man." "Ay, in my master's service, I can be cold and sharp as my sword. Be it known to you, that when last on shore, I consulted with a woman of skill and power, called Nicneven, of whom the country has rung for some brief time past. Fools asked her for charms to make them beloved, misers for means to increase their store; some demanded to know the future-an idle wish, since it cannot be altered; others would have an explanation of the past-idler still, since it cannot be recalled -I heard their queries with scorn, and demanded the means of avenging myself of a deadly enemy, for I grow old, and may trust no longer to Bilboa blade. She gave me a packet-Mix that, said she, with any liquid, and thy vengeance is complete." "Villain! and you mixed it with the food of this imprisoned lady, to the dishonour of thy master's house?" "To redeem the insulted honour of my master's house, I mixed the contents of the packet with the jar |