ur,
too, I declare. But I should know this handwriting," she went on; "I
have seen it before. This, however, will solve the mystery." And she
tore the letter open, and was instantly employed in reading it, blushing
and smiling by turns, as she proceeded with the perusal. When she had
done, "Maria," she said, raising her eyes from the paper, and addressing
one of her French ladies, "who, think you, is this letter from?"

"I cannot guess, madam," replied the young lady appealed to.

"Do try," rejoined Mary.

"Nay, indeed, I cannot," said the former, now pausing in her work, and
looking laughingly at her mistress. "Perhaps from the Count Desmartine,
or from Dufour, or Dubois."

"No, no, no," replied the queen, laughing; "neither of these, Maria; but
I will have compassion on your curiosity, and tell you. Would you
believe it?--it is from Chatelard, the poet."

"Chatelard!" repeated the maiden, in amazement. "What in all the earth
can have brought him here?"

"Nay, I know not," said the queen, blushing, for she guessed, or rather
feared, the cause. "But read, and judge for yourself," she added,
handing her attendant the letter, which contained a very beautiful
laudatory poem, full of passion and feeling, addressed to herself, and
which the writer concluded by requesting that he might be permitted to
form part of her court; declaring that it would be joy inexpressible to
him to be near her person--he cared not in how mean a capacity. The
having opportunities of seeing and serving her, he said, would reconcile
him to any degradation of rank--to any loss, save that of honour.

"In truth, very pretty verses," said the lady-in-waiting, returning the
poem to the queen; "but, methinks, somewhat over-bold."

"Why, I do think so too, Maria," replied Mary. "Chatelard rather forgets
himself; but poets, you know, have a license, and I cannot be harsh to
the poor young man. It would be cruel, ungenerous, and unworthy of me."

"But what say you, madam, to his request to be attached to your court?"

"Really, as to that, I know not well what to say, indeed," rejoined the
queen. "Chatelard, you know, Maria, is a gentleman, both by birth and
education. He is accomplished in a very high degree, and of a graceful
person and pleasing manners, and would thus do no discredit to our
court; but, I fear me, he might be guilty of some indiscretions--for he
is a child of passion as well as song--that might lead himself into
danger, and brin