l she would again be false to me, or to any
other man whom she could use for her purposes, and that she cared not the
price at which she purchased him. Bear in mind, you who would blame me for
my fall, that this woman not only was transcendently beautiful and fatally
fascinating, but she was a queen and had held undisputed sway over my
heart for more years than I could accurately number. As I said, added to
all her beauty, she was a queen. If you have never known royalty, you
cannot understand its enthralling power.

"I remember it all, madam," I replied, trying to hold myself away from
her. "It is fresh to me as if it all had happened yesterday." The queen
drew my arm closely to her side and nestled her cheek for an instant upon
my shoulder.

"I remember also," I continued, "your marriage with Darnley when I had
your promise that you would marry me; and, shame upon shame, I remember
your marriage with Darnley's murderer, Bothwell."

"Cruel, cruel, Malcolm," she said. "You well know the overpowering
reasons of state which impelled me to sacrifice my own happiness by
marrying Darnley. I told you at the time that I hated the marriage more
than I dreaded death. But I longed to quiet the factions in Scotland, and
I hoped to save my poor bleeding people from the evils of war. You know I
hated Darnley. You know I loved you. You knew then and you know now that
you are the only man who has ever possessed my heart. You know that my
words are true. You know that you, alone, have had my love since the time
when I was a child."

"And Rizzio?" I asked.

"Ah, Malcolm," she answered tearfully, "I hope you, of all men, do not
believe that I ever gave a thought of love to Rizzio. He was to me like my
pet monkey or my favorite falcon. He was a beautiful, gentle, harmless
soul. I loved him for his music. He worshipped me as did my spaniel."

Still I was determined that her blandishments should not move me.

"And Bothwell?" I asked.

"That is past endurance from you, Malcolm," she said, beginning to weep.
"You know I was brutally abducted and was forced into marriage with him.
He was an outlaw, an outcast. He was an uncouth brute whom any woman would
loathe. I was in his power, and I feigned acquiescence only that I might
escape and achieve vengeance upon him. Tell me, Malcolm, tell me,"
continued Mary, placing her arms about my neck and clinging to me, "tell
me, you, to whom I gave my maiden's love, you who have my woman's heart,