that that part of the
courtyard was deserted, she let fall the stone wrapped in her letter: at
first she feared to have made a serious error; for Little Douglas did not
even turn at the noise, and it was only after a moment, during which the
prisoner's heart was torn with frightful anxiety, that indifferently, and
as if he were looking for something else, the child laid his hand on the
stone, and without hurrying, without raising his head, without indeed
giving any sign of intelligence to her who had thrown it, he put the
letter in his pocket, finishing the work he had begun with the greatest
calm, and showing the queen, by this coolness beyond his years, what
reliance she could place in him.

From that moment the queen regained fresh hope; but days, weeks, months
passed without bringing any change in her situation: winter came; the
prisoner saw snow spread over the plains and mountains, and the lake
afforded her, if she had only been able to pass the door, a firm road to
gain the other bank; but no letter came during all this time to bring her
the consoling news that they were busy about her deliverance; the
faithful light alone announced to her every evening that a friend was
keeping watch.

Soon nature awoke from her death-sleep: some forward sun-rays broke
through the clouds of this sombre sky of Scotland; the snow melted, the
lake broke its ice-crust, the first buds opened, the green turf
reappeared; everything came out of its prison at the joyous approach of
spring, and it was a great grief to Mary to see that she alone was
condemned to an eternal winter.

At last; one evening, she thought she observed in the motions of the
light that something fresh was happening: she had so often questioned
this poor flickering star, and she had so often let it count her
heart-beats more than twenty times, that to spare herself the pain of
disappointment, for a long time she had no longer interrogated it;
however, she resolved to make one last attempt, and, almost hopeless, she
put her light near the window, and immediately took it away; still,
faithful to the signal, the other disappeared at the same moment, and
reappeared at the eleventh heart-beat of the queen. At the same time, by
a strange coincidence, a stone passing through the window fell at Mary
Seyton's feet. It was, like the first, wrapped in a letter from George:
the queen took it from her companion's hands, opened it, and read:

"The moment draws near; your ad