ning into the rumours
which she had heard than they were intended to convey, and, as she saw
him going quietly about his duties, apparently in as high favour as
before with the King, she shook off her load of anxiety, and tried to
forget that she had ever heard the Earl of Bothwell's name.

But without warning the blow fell. One morning, as she was seated in the
Queen's ante-chamber, busily engaged, along with the other maids, in
sewing a piece of tapestry which was to be hung, when finished, in the
Queen's bedroom, Lady Hamilton entered the room in haste, bearing dire
tidings.

It had become known at the palace the evening before, that a plot had
been discovered, planned by the Earl of Bothwell, to seize the King and
keep him a prisoner, while the Earl was declared regent. As it was known
that young Hugh Weymes, one of the King's gentlemen, had been seen in
conversation with him some weeks before, he had been seized and his
boxes searched, and in them had been found a sealed packet, containing
letters to one of the King's councillors, who was now in France, asking
his assistance, and signed by Bothwell himself.

The gentleman had not returned--probably word had been sent to him of
his danger--but young Weymes had been promptly arrested, although he
disclaimed all knowledge of the contents of the packet, and had been
placed under the care of Sir John Carmichael, keeper of the King's
guard, until he could be tried.

"And there will only be one sentence for him," said the old lady grimly;
"it's beheaded he will be. 'Tis a pity, for he was a well-favoured
youth; but what else could he expect, meddling with such matters?" and
then she left the room, eager to find some fresh listeners to whom she
could tell her tale.

As the door closed behind her a sudden stillness fell over the little
room. No one spoke, although some of the girls glanced pityingly at
Margaret, who sat, as if turned to stone, with a still, white face, and
staring eyes. Gertrud Van Hollbell, her countrywoman and bosom friend,
rose at last, and went and put her arms round her.

"He is a favourite with the Queen, Margaret, and so art thou," she
whispered, "and after all it was not he who wrote the letter. If I were
in thy place, I would beg her Majesty, and she will beg the King, and he
will be pardoned."

But Margaret shook her head with a wan smile. She knew too well the
terrible danger in which her lover stood, and she rightly guessed that
the Que