were faithful instead of being traitors."

"Since you know your history so well," replied Lindsay, in a rage," you
should remember that that weak barrier did not hinder Graham, that
Catherine Douglas's arm was broken like a willow wand, and that James I
was killed like a dog."

"But you, my lord," responded the courageous young girl, "ought also to
know the ballad that is still sung in our time--

"'Now, on Robert Gra'am, The king's destroyer, shame! To Robert Graham
cling Shame, who destroyed our king.'"

"Mary," cried the queen, who had overheard this altercation from her
bedroom,--"Mary, I command you to open the door directly: do you hear?"

Mary obeyed, and Lord Lindsay entered, followed by Melville, who walked
behind him, with slow steps and bent head. Arrived in the middle of the
second room, Lord Lindsay stopped, and, looking round him--

"Well, where is she, then?" he asked; "and has she not already kept us
waiting long enough outside, without making us wait again inside? Or does
she imagine that, despite these walls and these bars, she is always
queen?"

"Patience, my lord," murmured Sir Robert: "you see that Lord Ruthven has
not come yet, and since we can do nothing without him, let us wait."

"Let wait who will," replied Lindsay, inflamed with anger; "but it will
not be I, and wherever she may be, I shall go and seek her."

With these words, he made some steps towards Mary Stuart's bedroom; but
at the same moment the queen opened the door, without seeming moved
either at the visit or at the insolence of the visitors, and so lovely
and so full of majesty, that each, even Lindsay himself, was silent at
her appearance, and, as if in obedience to a higher power, bowed
respectfully before her.

"I fear I have kept you waiting, my lord," said the queen, without
replying to the ambassador's salutation otherwise than by a slight
inclination of the head; "but a woman does not like to receive even
enemies without having spent a few minutes over her toilet. It is true
that men are less tenacious of ceremony," added she, throwing a
significant glance at Lord Lindsay's rusty armour and soiled and pierced
doublet. "Good day, Melville," she continued, without paying attention
to some words of excuse stammered by Lindsay; "be welcome in my prison,
as you were in my palace; for I believe you as devoted to the one as to
the other".

Then, turning to Lindsay, who was looking interrogatively at the door,
impatie