‘You have a letter from the warden for the Queen?’ proceeded the damsel.
‘A letter!’ repeated ‘Dick-o’-the-Cleugh,’ his Scottish caution coming rapidly to the rescue. ‘I’ll no say but there might be a bit parcel, or such like. If I’ve no lost it by the way,’ he added, doubtfully, and feeling the while under his corslet for the safety of the packet.
Mary Seton’s little foot stamped impatiently, whereat the giant started in his boots. She turned upon him quite fiercely.
‘A jackman does not lose a Queen’s packet,’ said she. ‘If he does, he may chance to lose his own head. Follow me!’ And she flitted on through the dark passages, turning at intervals to see that she was followed by the astonished borderer.
Presently they climbed a narrow, winding stair. After ascending several steps, the maid-of-honour stopped, opened a door, and pushing aside some heavy folds of tapestry, bade her follower enter, warning him not to strike his head against the low doorway.
‘Dick-o’-the-Cleugh,’ dazzled and confused, found himself in a very small and brilliantly-lighted apartment. The roof was high; but the room itself was scarcely large enough to contain six or eight persons. A table prepared for supper, and laid for two, occupied the whole space between the window and the ample hearth, on which a wood fire blazed and crackled cheerfully. The borderer’s gaze was riveted at once by the gold plate on the supper-table, richly chased, and bearing the crown-royal on its burnished surface.
Mary Seton could not forbear a smile at his astonishment.
‘This is somewhat different from the head of a glen in Liddesdale,’ said she, with a ringing laugh. ‘Thanks to my good-nature, you have now seen a Queen’s chamber. Give me your packet, and get you gone!’
While she spoke, she ran her eye over the athletic figure of the borderer, magnificent in its size and strength when seen in that small apartment, and well set off by his warlike gear.
‘What a fine man!’ thought Mary Seton, as she scanned him. ‘And oh! what a good face, and how unlike a courtier!’