was nothing more than a
charming entertainment?

By the time he was able to get out of his seat and return to the
courtyard, the procession had again disappeared, but he was escorted by
the same servant to the parlour again, where Mistress Corbet presently
rustled in.

"You must stay to-night," she said, "as late as possible. I wish you
could sleep here; but we are so crowded with these Frenchmen and
Hollanders that there is not a bed empty. The Queen is in better humour,
and if the play goes well, it may be that a word said even to-night might
reach her heart. I will tell you when it is over. You must be present. I
will send you supper here directly."

Anthony inquired as to his dress.

"Nay, nay," said Mistress Corbet, "that will do very well; it is sober
and quiet, and a little splashed: it will appear that you came in such
haste that you could not change it. Her Grace likes to see a man hot and
in a hurry sometimes; and not always like a peacock in the shade.--And,
Master Anthony, it suits you very well."

He asked what time the play would be over, and that his horse might be
saddled ready for him when he should want it; and Mary promised to see to
it.

He felt much more himself as he supped alone in the parlour. The
bewilderment had passed; the courage and spirit of Mary had infected his
own, and the stirring strange life of the palace had distracted him from
that dreadful brooding into which he had at first sunk.

When he had finished supper he sat in the window seat, pondering and
praying too that the fierce heart of the Queen might be melted, and that
God would give him words to say.

There was much else too that he thought over, as he sat and watched the
illuminated windows round the little lawn on which his own looked, and
heard the distant clash of music from the Hall where the Queen was
supping in state. He thought of Mary and of her gay and tender nature;
and of his own boyish love for her. That indeed had gone, or rather had
been transfigured into a brotherly honour and respect. Both she and he,
he was beginning to feel, had a more majestic task before them than
marrying and giving in marriage. The religion which made this woman what
she was, pure and upright in a luxurious and treacherous Court, tender
among hard hearts, sympathetic in the midst of selfish lives--this
Religion was beginning to draw this young man with almost irresistible
power. Mary herself was doing her part bravely, witnessin