Mistress Alison seemed tolerably familiar with the private history of her company, and the general gossip of the Court. As she displayed the turn of her round arm, and close-fitting bodice, while filling plates and drinking-cups, she had a jeer, or a sarcasm, or a compliment for each. She congratulated d’Elbœuf on the conquest he had made of her serving-woman, who, never having seen a live Frenchman before, gazed at the admiral open-mouthed. She twitted the two Stuarts with their approaching bondage that should put an end to all such midnight pranks.
‘For,’ said Mistress Alison, ‘in less than a week, ye’ll both be dancing in fetters to the tune of “Wooed and married an’ a’,” and the bonny brides will have gotten the two most graceless gallants in Scotland for their grooms; and as sure as death, I’ll see the wedding, if I creep into the palace through the buttery window! Ay, my Lord Bothwell! you’re bold riders, you Hepburns; but the bonny lass that thinks to tame wild John Stuart, is the boldest amongst you all. Well, well! it’s a good steed that’ll gallop till dawn. Once she gets into the saddle, she’ll daunton[4] him, never fear!’
[4] Daunton, to tame; or familiarly, to cow—from the French dompter.
A loud laugh rewarded this sally at the expense of the young noblemen, who were indeed making the most of their remaining hours of freedom; and Lord John, who was about to marry Bothwell’s sister, was so delighted with the conversation, that he took Mistress Alison’s hand and proposed that they should dance a measure together on the spot.
But the lady had no intention that her agreeable visitors should remain for too long a period. In the midst of her mirth she had never entirely got rid of a certain air of apprehension, and twice or thrice she had stopped in the middle of a sentence as if to listen. All at once she turned pale, really pale this time, and set her goblet down untasted.
‘For any sake! my lord,’ she exclaimed, with an imploring look at Bothwell, ‘go your ways now. I can let you down the back stair. Go your ways, gentlemen, I entreat you, or there will be blood spilt before all’s done!’
Already the tramp of feet and altercation of voices had been heard in the street; now the clink of steel fell familiarly on the ears of the guests up-stairs. They rose to their feet, and commenced buckling on their swords simultaneously.
‘We are, indeed, fortunate,’ observed d’Elbœuf in high glee; ‘a jovial carouse, a delightful supper-party, and a midnight fray, all without the slightest trouble or inconvenience.’
‘For the love of mercy, begone!’ pleaded Mistress Alison, pushing them, one after another, to the door. ‘For my sake, for any sake, for all our sakes! They’re breaking in the door! They’re coming up the stair! It’s the earl; as sure as death, it’s the earl!’
‘What earl?’ laughed Bothwell, carelessly, and yet curious to know the name of the favoured nobleman, for whom the supper they had just eaten was prepared.