ly, I command you; I will now hear neither explanation nor
apology."

"Then, will you forgive me?" said Chatelard; "will you forgive a
presumption of which----"

"I will hear no more, sir," again interrupted the queen, indignantly.
"Begone, sir! Remain another instant, and I give the alarm. Your life
depends on your obedience." And Mary placed her hand on a small silver
bell, from which had she drawn the slightest sound, the poet's doom was
sealed, and she would have rung his funeral knell.

Chatelard now slowly rose from his knees, folded his arms across his
breast, and with downcast look, but without uttering another word,
strode out of the apartment. When he had gone, the queen, no longer
supported by the excitement occasioned by the presence of the intruder,
flung herself into a chair, greatly agitated and deadly pale. Here she
sat in silence for several minutes, evidently employed in endeavouring
to obtain a view of the late singular occurrence in all its bearings,
and in determining on the course which she herself ought to pursue
regarding it.

Having seemingly satisfied herself on these points--

"Ladies," she at length said--these ladies were two of her Maries, Mary
Livingstone and Mary Fleeming--"this is a most extraordinary
circumstance. Rash, thoughtless, presumptuous man, how could he have
been so utterly lost to every sense of propriety and of his own peril,
as to think of an act of such daring insolence?"

"Poor man, I pity him," here simply, but naturally enough, perhaps,
interrupted Mary Fleeming. "Doubtless, madam, you will report the matter
instantly to the earl?"

"Nay, Mary, I know not if I will, after all," replied the queen. "I
perhaps ought to do so; but methinks it would be hardly creditable to
me, as a woman, to bring this poor thoughtless young man to the
scaffold, whither, you know, my stern brother would have him instantly
dragged, if he knew of his offence; and besides, ladies," went on the
queen, in whose gentle bosom the kindly feelings of her nature had now
completely triumphed over those of insulted dignity and pride, "I know
not how far I am myself to blame in this matter. I fear me, I ought to
have been more guarded in my conduct towards this infatuated young man.
I should have kept him at a greater distance, and been more cautious of
admitting him to familiar converse, since he has evidently misconstrued
our affability and condescension. There may have been error there, you
s