to the lords, was about to withdraw to her chamber. Ruthven and Sir Robert Melville made, the first a formal reverence, the second an obeisance, in which his desire to acknowledge his sympathy was obviously checked by the fear of appearing in the eyes of his colleagues too partial to his former mistress. But Lindesay stood motionless, even when they were preparing to withdraw. At length, as if moved by a sudden impulse, he walked round the table which had hitherto been betwixt them and the Queen, kneeled on one knee, took her hand, kissed it, let it fall, and arose-"Lady," he said, "thou art a noble creature, even though thou hast abused God's choicest gifts. I pay that devotion to thy manliness of spirit, which I would not have paid to the power thou hast long undeservedly wielded-I kneel to Mary Stewart, not to the Queen."

"The Queen and Mary Stewart pity thee alike, Lindesay," said Mary-" alike they pity, and they forgive thee. An honoured soldier hadst thou been by a king's side-leagued with rebels, what art thou but a good blade in the hands of a ruffian ?—Farewell, my Lord Ruthven, the smoother but the deeper traitor.-Farewell, Melville-Mayst thou find masters that can understand state policy better, and have the means to reward it more richly, than Mary Stewart.— Farewell, George of Douglas-make your respected granddame comprehend that we would be alone for the remainder of the day-God wot, we have need to collect our thoughts."

All bowed and withdrew; but scarce had they entered the vestibule, ere Ruthven and Lindesay were at variance. "Chide not with me, Ruthven," Lindesay was heard to say, in answer to something more indistinctly urged by his colleague-" Chide not with me, for I will not brook it! You put the hangman's office on me in this matter, and even the very hangman hath leave to ask some pardon of those on whom he does his office. I would I had as deep cause have to be her enemy-thou

to be this lady's friend as I

shouldst see if I spared limb and life in her quarrel."

"Thou art a sweet minion," said Ruthven, "to fight a

lady's quarrel, and all for a brent brow and a tear in the eye! Such toys have been out of thy thoughts this many a year."

"Do me right, Ruthven," said Lindesay. "You are like a polished corslet of steel; it shines more gaudily, but it is not a whit softer-nay, it is five times harder than a Glasgow breastplate of hammered iron. Enough. We know each other."

They descended the stairs, were heard to summon their boats, and the Queen signed to Roland Græme to retire to the vestibule, and leave her with her female attendants.

QUEEN MARY'S ESCAPE.

SCOTT'S ABBOT.

1568.

Time is made to pass more rapidly in the tale than it did in reality. Mary of Scotland actually remained ten months in Lochleven Castle before her escape was acomplished, much as here described. The page who changed the keys for false ones was really named Willie Douglas, and was an orphan cousin of the lord of the castle. He remained among the attendants of Queen Mary till all who were considered superfluous were dismissed by orders of Elizabeth, and his grateful Queen then wrote to commend him to the favour of her French kindred.

Mary Fleming was really with the Queen, but as she was one of the four Maries all born in the same year with the Queen, she must have been much younger than she appears here. Scott seems to have given her the part of Jean Kennedy, the Queen's nurse.

The Abbot is imaginary, but there were many monks ejected from their convents who strongly espoused Mary's part. The old gardener, Blinkhoolie, is also an abbot, who had resigned his post at the beginning of the troublous times. Henry Seyton is also a fictitious character, twin brother to Catherine, and exactly like her, disliking Roland as one not qualified to aspire to his sister's hand.

George Douglas is, however, true to life: he was a son of the Knight of Lochleven, and had become greatly devoted to Mary. He had been

Q

expelled from the Castle for assisting in a previous attempt at the escape of the Queen, but he continued to hover around it, and met her on her landing.

I. THE KEYS.

THE enterprise of Roland Græme appeared to prosper. A trinket or two, of which the work did not surpass the substance (for the materials were silver, supplied by the Queen), were judiciously presented to those most likely to be inquisitive into the labours of the forge and anvil, which they thus were induced to reckon profitable to others and harmless in itself. Openly, the page was seen working about such trifles. In private, he forged a number of keys resembling so nearly in weight and in form those which were presented every evening to the Lady Lochleven, that, on a slight inspection, it would have been difficult to perceive the difference. He brought them to the dark rusty colour by the use of salt and water; and, in the triumph of his art, presented them at length to Queen Mary in her presence-chamber, about an hour before the tolling of the curfew. She looked at them with pleasure, but at the same time with doubt.— "I allow," she said, "that the Lady Lochleven's eyes, which are not of the clearest, may be well deceived, could we pass those keys on her in place of the real implements of her tyranny. But how is this to be done, and which of my little court dare attempt this tour de jongleur1 with any chance of success? Could we but engage her in some earnest matter of argument-but those which I hold with her always have been of a kind which make her grasp her keys the faster, as if she said to herself-Here I hold what sets me above your taunts and reproaches-And even for her liberty, Mary Stewart could not stoop to speak the proud heretic fair.What shall we do? Shall Lady Fleming try her eloquence in describing the last new head-tire from Paris ?-alas! the good dame has not changed the fashion of her head-gear since Pinkie-field, for aught that I know. Shall my mignonne2

Catherine sing to her one of those touching airs which draw the very souls out of me and Roland Græme ?—Alas ! Dame Margaret Douglas would rather hear a Huguenot psalm of Clement Marrot, sung to the tune of Réveillez vous, belle endormie.-Cousins and liege counsellers, what is to be done, for our wits are really astray in this matter?-Must our man-at-arms and the champion of our body, Roland Græme, manfully assault the old lady, and take the keys from her par voie du fait?"?

"Nay! with your Grace's permission," said Roland, "I do not doubt being able to manage the matter with more discretion; for though, in your Grace's service, I do not fear

"each

"A host of old women," interrupted Catherine, armed with rock3 and spindle, yet he has no fancy for pikes and partisans, which might rise at the cry of Help! a Douglas, a Douglas !"

They that do not fear fair ladies' tongues," continued the page, "need dread nothing else.-But, gracious Liege, I am well-nigh satisfied that I could pass the exchange of these keys on the Lady Lochleven; but I dread the sentinel whot is now planted nightly in the garden, which, by necessity, we must traverse."

"Our last advices from our friends on the shore have promised us assistance in that matter," replied the Queen. "And is your Grace well assured of the fidelity and watchfulness of those without?"

"For their fidelity, I will answer with my life, and for their vigilance, I will answer with my life-I will give thee instant proof, my faithful Roland, that they are ingenuous and trusty as thyself. Come hither-Nay, Catherine, attend us; we carry not so deft a page into our private chamber alone. Make fast the door of the parlour, Fleming, and

1 Awake, fair sleeper. Clement Marrot put into verse the first fifty or sixty psalms, and these were much sung by the Huguenots or French Reformers.

2 By force.

3 Distaff.

warn us if you hear the least step-or stay, go thou to the door, Catherine,"-(in a whisper, "thy ears and thy wits are both sharper.)-Good Fleming, attend us thyself”—(and again she whispered, "her reverend presence will be as safe a watch on Roland as thine can- -so be not jealous, mignonne.")

Thus speaking, they were lighted by the Lady Fleming into the Queen's bedroom, a small apartment enlightened by a projecting window.

"Look from that window, Roland," she said; "see you amongst the several lights which begin to kindle, and to glimmer palely through the grey of the evening from the village of Kinross-seest thou, I say, one solitary spark apart from the others, and nearer it seems to the verge of the water ?—It is no brighter at this distance than the torch of the poor glow-worm, and yet, my good youth, that light is more dear to Mary Stewart than every star that twinkles in the blue vault of heaven. By that signal, I know that more than one true heart is plotting my deliverance; and without that consciousness, and the hope of freedom it gives me, I had long since stooped to my fate, and died of a broken heart. Plan after plan has been formed and abandoned, but still the light glimmers; and while it glimmers, my hope lives.-Oh! how many evenings have I sat musing in despair over our ruined schemes, and scarce hoping that I should again see that blessed signal; when it has suddenly kindled, and, like the lights of Saint Elmo1 in a tempest, brought hope and consolation, where there was only dejection and despair!"

"If I mistake not," answered Roland, "the candle shines from the house of Blinkhoolie, the mail-gardener."

"Thou hast a good eye," said the Queen; "it is there where my trusty lieges-God and the saints pour blessings on them!-hold consultation for my deliverance. The voice

1 The name given by Italian sailors to an electric appearance like a lambent flame on the masts of ships.