face carried a look of
triumph and spirit and delight. Again and again she glanced towards
Angele, and what she saw evidently gave her pleasure, for she laughed
and disported herself with grace and an agreeable temper, and Leicester
lent himself to her spirit with adroit wit and humility. He had seen his
mistake of the morning, and was now intent to restore himself to favour.

He succeeded well, for the emotions roused in Elizabeth during the day,
now heightened by vanity and emulation, found in him a centre upon
which they could converge; and, in her mind, Angele, for the nonce, was
disassociated from any thought of De la Foret. Leicester's undoubted
gifts were well and cautiously directed, and his talent of assumed
passion--his heart was facile, and his gallantry knew no bounds--was
put to dexterous use, convincing for the moment. The Queen seemed all
complaisance again. Presently she had Angele brought to her.

"How doth her dance compare-she who hath wedded Darnley?"

"She danceth not so high nor disposedly, with no such joyous lightness
as your high Majesty, but yet she moveth with circumspection."

"Circumspection--circumspection, that is no gift in dancing, which
should be wilful yet airily composed, thoughtless yet inducing.
Circumspection!--in nothing else hath Mary shown it where she should.
'Tis like this Queen perversely to make a psalm of dancing, and then
pirouette with sacred duty. But you have spoken the truth, and I am well
content. So get you to your rest."

She tapped Ange'le's cheek. "You shall remain here to-night. 'Tis too
late for you to be sent abroad." She was about to dismiss her, when
there was a sudden stir. Cecil had entered and was making his way to the
Queen, followed by two strangers. Elizabeth waited their approach.

"Your gracious Majesty," said Cecil, in a voice none heard save
Elizabeth, for all had fallen back at a wave of her hand, "the Queen of
Scots is the mother of a fair son."

Elizabeth's face flushed, then became pale, and she struck her knee
with her clinched hand. "Who bringeth the news?" she inquired in a sharp
voice.

"Sir Andrew Melvill here."

"Who is with him yonder?"

"One who hath been attached to the Queen of Scots."

"He hath the ill look of such an one," she answered, and then said below
her breath bitterly: "She hath a son--and I am but a barren stock."

Rising, she added hurriedly: "We will speak to the people at the May Day
sports to-morrow. Let th