"And when do we journey?"
"We propose," said Lord Seyton, "if your Grace's fatigue will permit, to take horse after the morning's meal."
"Your pleasure, my Lords, is mine," replied the Queen; "we will rule our journey by your wisdom now, and hope hereafter to have the advantage of governing by it our kingdom.--You will permit my ladies and me, my good lords, to break our fasts along with you--We must be half soldiers ourselves, and set state apart."
Low bowed many a helmeted head at this gracious proffer, when the Queen, glancing her eyes through the assembled leaders, missed both Douglas and Roland Graeme, and inquired for them in a whisper to Catherine Seyton.
"They are in yonder oratory, madam, sad enough," replied Catherine; and the Queen observed that her favourite's eyes were red with weeping.
"This must not be," said the Queen. "Keep the company amused--I will seek them, and introduce them myself."
She went into the oratory, where the first she met was George Douglas, standing, or rather reclining, in the recess of a window, his back rested against the wall, and his arms folded on his breast. At the sight of the Queen he started, and his countenance showed, for an instant, an expression of intense delight, which was instantly exchanged for his usual deep melancholy.
"What means this?" she said; "Douglas, why does the first deviser and bold executor of the happy scheme for our freedom, shun the company of his fellow-nobles, and of the Sovereign whom he has obliged?"
"Madam," replied Douglas, "those whom you grace with your presence bring followers to aid your cause, wealth to support your state,--can offer you halls in which to feast, and impregnable castles for your defence. I am a houseless and landless man--disinherited by my mother, and laid under her malediction--disowned by my name and kindred--who bring nothing to your standard but a single sword, and the poor life of its owner."
"Do you mean to upbraid me, Douglas," replied the Queen, "by showing what you have lost for my sake?"
"God forbid, madam!" interrupted the young man, eagerly; "were it to do again, and had I ten times as much rank and wealth, and twenty times as many friends to lose, my losses would be overpaid by the first step you made, as a free princess, upon the soil of your native kingdom."
"And what then ails you, that you will not rejoice with those who rejoice upon the same joyful occasion?" said the Queen.
"Madam," replied the youth," though exheridated and disowned, I am yet a Douglas: with most of yonder nobles my family have been in feud for ages--a cold reception amongst them, were an insult, and a kind one yet more humiliating."
"For shame, Douglas," replied the Queen, "shake off this unmanly gloom!--I can make thee match for the best of them in title and fortune, and, believe me, I will.--Go then amongst them, I command you."
"That word," said Douglas, "is enough--I go. This only let me say, that not for wealth or title would I have done that which I have done--Mary Stewart will not, and the Queen cannot, reward me."
So saying, he left the oratory, mingled with the nobles, and placed himself at the bottom of the table. The Queen looked after him, and put her kerchief to her eyes.
"Now, Our Lady pity me," she said, "for no sooner are my prison cares ended, than those which beset me as a woman and a Queen again thicken around me.--Happy Elizabeth! to whom political interest is every thing, and whose heart never betrays thy head.--And now must I seek this other boy, if I would prevent daggers-drawing betwixt him and the young Seyton."
Roland Graeme was in the same oratory, but at such a distance from Douglas, that he could not overhear what passed betwixt the Queen and him. He also was moody and thoughtful, but cleared his brow at the Queen's question, "How now, Roland? you are negligent in your attendance this morning. Are you so much overcome with your night's ride?"
"Not so, gracious madam," answered Graeme; "but I am told the page of Lochleven is not the page of Niddrie Castle; and so Master Henry Seyton hath in a manner been pleased to supersede my attendance."
"Now, Heaven forgive me," said the Queen, "how soon these cock-chickens begin to spar!--with children and boys, at least, I may be a queen.--I will have you friends.--Some one send me Henry Seyton hither." As she spoke the last words aloud, the youth whom she had named entered the apartment. "Come hither," she said, "Henry Seyton--I will have you give your hand to this youth, who so well aided in the plan of my escape."
"Willingly, madam," answered Seyton, "so that the youth will grant me, as a boon, that he touch not the hand of another Seyton whom he knows of. My hand has passed current for hers with him before now--and to win my friendship, he must give up thoughts of my sister's love."
"Henry Seyton," said the Queen, "does it become you to add any condition to my command?"
"Madam," said Henry, "I am the servant of your Grace's throne, son to the most loyal man in Scotland. Our goods, our castles, our blood, are yours: Our honour is in our own keeping. I could say more, but--"
"Nay, speak on, rude boy," said the Queen; "what avails it that I am released from Lochleven, if I am thus enthralled under the yoke of my pretended deliverers, and prevented from doing justice to one who has deserved as well of me as yourself?"
"Be not in this distemperature for me, sovereign Lady," said Roland; "this young gentleman, being the faithful servant of your Grace, and the brother of Catherine Seyton, bears that about him which will charm down my passion at the hottest."
"I warn thee once more," said Henry Seyton, haughtily, "that you make no speech which may infer that the daughter of Lord Seyton can be aught to thee beyond what she is to every churl's blood in Scotland."
The Queen was again about to interfere, for Roland's complexion rose, and it became somewhat questionable how long his love for Catherine would suppress the natural fire of his temper. But the interposition of another person, hitherto unseen, prevented Mary's interference, There was in the oratory a separate shrine, enclosed with a high screen of pierced oak, within which was placed an image of Saint Bennet, of peculiar sanctity. From this recess, in which she had been probably engaged in her devotions, issued suddenly Magdalen Graeme, and addressed Henry Seyton, in reply to his last offensive expressions,--"And of what clay, then, are they moulded these Seytons, that the blood of the Graemes may not aspire to mingle with theirs? Know, proud boy, that when I call this youth my daughter's child, I affirm his descent from Malise Earl of Strathern, called Malise with the Bright Brand; and I trow the blood of your house springs from no higher source."
"Good mother," said Seyton, "methinks your sanctity should make you superior to these worldly vanities; and indeed it seems to have rendered you somewhat oblivious touching them, since, to be of gentle descent, the father's name and lineage must be as well qualified as the mother's."
"And if I say he comes of the blood of Avenel by the father's side," replied Magdalen Graeme, "name I not blood as richly coloured as thine own?"