e to your reward."

Choisseul bowed, and withdrew.

When he had retired, the earl sat down to a small writing table, and,
late as the hour was, began writing with great assiduity--an employment
at which he continued until he had written eight or ten different
letters, each of considerable length. These were addressed to various
members of the Queen's Privy Council in Edinburgh, and to some of the
law officers of the crown. They were all nearly copies of each other,
and contained an account of Chatelard's conduct, with a charge to the
several parties addressed to repair to St. Andrews on the second day
following, for the purpose of holding a court on the offender, and
awarding him such punishment as the case might seem to demand.

On the day succeeding that on which the occurrence just related took
place, the queen and her retinue proceeded to St. Andrews, whither the
prisoner Chatelard was also carried; and, on the next again, the
unfortunate gentleman was brought to trial, the scene of which was an
apartment in the Castle of St Andrews, which had been hastily prepared
for the occasion. In the centre of this apartment was placed a large
oblong oaken table, covered with crimson velvet, and surrounded by a
circle of high-backed chairs, with cushions covered with the same
material. These were subsequently occupied by eight or ten persons of
the Privy Council, including Mary's secretary of state, Maitland of
Lethington, who sat at one end of the table. At the opposite end sat the
Earl of Murray; the prisoner occupying a place in the centre at one of
the sides. During the investigation which followed into the offence of
Chatelard, the Earl of Murray made repeated indirect attempts to lead
him to make statements prejudicial to the queen; urging him, with a show
of candour and pretended regard for justice, to inform the court of
anything and everything which he thought might be available in his
defence, without regard to the rank or condition of those whom such
statements might implicate. This language was too plain to be
misunderstood. Every one present perceived that it conveyed a pointed
allusion to the queen. Chatelard, amongst the rest, felt that it did so,
and indignantly repelled the insinuation.

"I have none," he said, "to accuse but myself; nothing to blame but my
own folly. Folly, did I say?" went on the fearless enthusiast; "it was
no folly--it was love, love, love--all-powerful love--love for her, the
noblest,