should accept
it as an expiation for my faults; for if I am proud when I compare myself
with others, Melville, I am humble when I judge myself. I am unjustly
accused of being an accomplice of Darnley's death, but I am justly
condemned for having married Bothwell."

"Time presses, madam; time presses," cried Melville, looking at the sand,
which, placed on the table, was marking the time. "They are coming back,
they will be here in a minute; and this time you must give them an
answer. Listen, madam, and at least profit by your situation as much as
you can. You are alone here with one woman, without friends, without
protection, without power: an abdication signed at such a juncture will
never appear to your people to have been freely given, but will always
pass as having been torn from you by force; and if need be, madam, if the
day comes when such a solemn declaration is worth something, well, then
you will have two witnesses of the violence done you: the one will be
Mary Seyton, and the other," he added in a low voice and looking uneasily
about him,--"the other will be Robert Melville."

Hardly had he finished speaking when the footsteps of the two nobles were
again heard on the staircase, returning even before the quarter of an
hour had elapsed; a moment afterwards the door opened, and Ruthven
appeared, while over his shoulder was seen Lindsay's head.

"Madam," said Ruthven, "we have returned. Has your Grace decided? We
come for your answer."

"Yes," said Lindsay, pushing aside Ruthven, who stood in his way, and
advancing to the table,--"yes, an answer, clear, precise, positive, and
without dissimulation."

"You are exacting, my lord," said the queen: "you would scarcely have the
right to expect that from me if I were in full liberty on the other side
of the lake and surrounded with a faithful escort; but between these
walls, behind these bars, in the depths of this fortress, I shall not
tell you that I sign voluntarily, lest you should not believe it. But no
matter, you want my signature; well, I am going to give it to you.
Melville, pass me the pen."

"But I hope," said Lord Ruthven, "that your Grace is not counting on
using your present position one day in argument to protest against what
you are going to do?"

The queen had already stooped to write, she had already set her hand to
the paper, when Ruthven spoke to her. But scarcely had he done so, than
she rose up proudly, and letting fall the pen, "My