of favour, occurrences that were merely the emanations of a kind
and gentle nature--thus fatally misled by a passion which, if notorious
for occasioning groundless fears, is no less so for inspiring unfounded
hopes. Such, at any rate, was its effect in the case of Chatelard on the
night in question. On gaining his own chamber, he flung himself into a
chair, and spent nearly the whole of the remainder of the night in the
indulgence of the wildest and most extravagant dreams of future bliss;
for, in the blindness of his passion and tumult of his hopes, he saw no
dangers, and feared no difficulties.

From this time forward, Chatelard's conduct to the queen became so
marked and unguarded in various particulars, as to excite her alarm, and
even to draw down upon the offender some occasional rebukes, although
these were at first sufficiently gentle and remote. Nor did the
imprudences of the infatuated poet escape the cold, keen eye of Murray.
He saw them, and noted them; but took care to wear the semblance of
unconsciousness. It was not his business to interrupt, by hinting
suspicions, the progress of an affair which he hoped would, on some
occasion or other, lead to consequences that he might turn to account.
Feeling this, it was not for him to help Chatelard and the queen to
elude his vigilance, and defeat his views, by discovering what he
observed, and thus putting them on their guard. This was not his
business; but it was his business to lie concealed, and to spring out on
his quarry the instant that its position invited to the effort. Coldly
and sternly, therefore, he watched the motions of Chatelard and his
sister; but was little satisfied to perceive nothing in the conduct of
the latter regarding the former which at all spoke of the feelings he
secretly desired to find. As it was impossible, however, for the earl
personally to watch all the movements of Chatelard, he looked around him
for some individual of the queen's household whom he might bribe to
perform the duties of a spy; and such a one he found amongst the
attendants whom Mary had brought with her from France, of which country
he was also a native. The name of this ungrateful and despicable wretch,
who undertook to betray a kind and generous mistress, whenever he should
discover anything in her conduct to betray, was Choisseul--a man of
pleasing manners and address, but of low and vicious habits. Without any
certain knowledge of his character, or any previous i