her on his hackney paused
reluctant, often essaying to take his leave, retained always by a new
subject. Suddenly she broached another and more private matter, turning
aside from the attendants to tell Knox of the new troubles which had
broken out in the house of Argyle between the Earl and his wife, who was
Mary's illegitimate sister. The Reformer had already settled a quarrel
between this pair, and the Queen begged him to interfere again, to write
to Argyle and smooth the matter over if possible. Then, the time having
now arrived when she must dismiss him, the field waiting for her and the
sport suspended, Mary turned again for a parting word.

"And now," said she, "as touching our reasoning yesternight I
promise to do as ye required. I sall cause summon the offenders, and
ye shall know that I shall minister justice."

"I am assured then," said he, "that ye shall please God and enjoy
rest and prosperity within your realm; which to your Majesty is more
profitable than all the Pope's power can be."

We have heard enough and to spare about Mary's tears and the severity of
Knox--here is a scene in which for once there is no severity, but
everything cheerful, radiant, and full of hope. Was there in all
Christendom a more hopeful princess, more gifted, more understanding,
more wise? for it was not only that she had the heart to take (or seem
to take) in a very hard matter the advice of the exasperating Reformer,
entirely inaccessible to reason on that point at least as he was--but to
give it, and that in a matter of real use to himself and his party. Was
it all dissembling as Knox believed? or was there any possibility of
public service and national advantage, and as happy and prosperous a
life as was possible to a queen, before her when she turned smiling upon
the strand and waved her hand to him as he rode away? Who can tell? That
little tower of Lochleven, that dark water between its pastoral hills,
had soon so different a tale to tell.

[Illustration: QUEEN MARY'S BATH]

Had Mary deserted her faith as it would have been such admirable policy
to do; had she said, like the great Henry, that Scotland was well worth
a mass or the sacrifice of a mass; had she turned round and persecuted
the priests of her own Church as she now was about, for their safety and
with a subterfuge excusable if ever subterfuge was, to pretend to
do--would posterity have thought the better of her? Certainly it would
not