Away sped Beatrice to the queen's presence, and kneeling down on the footstool before her, she preferred her petition.
"You must ask the king, love," said Anne of Denmark, who, with all her many faults, and not very steady principles, was a kind-hearted and amiable, as well as highly accomplished woman. "I can but ill spare you, Beatrice; but far be it from me to keep you from any joyful expedition; but you must ask the king's permission. You know he is fond of despotic rule, even in his own household; and though I struggle every now and then for the rights and liberties of women, till he is fain to give way for the sake of a quiet house, yet I dare not altogether take the rule even of my own maidens into my own hands."
"But the king's permission has been obtained, dear lady," replied Beatrice; and seeing a slight shade of displeasure come upon the queen's face, as if she thought she ought to have been first asked, the young lady added, "Gowrie asked the king himself, your majesty."
"Well, that is right," replied Anne of Denmark. "Tell your good brother for me, that I regret we have had no means, since his return, of entertaining him at our court; but we shall have balls and pageants soon; and I trust to show him that we people of the north are not so far behind his bright Italians. Now, kiss me, child, and go and prepare."
Beatrice Ruthven needed no long preparation; but she went first to make her arrangements with her brother, and it was agreed that he should go back to his own dwelling in the town, and return for her in a couple of hours. While speaking together, she caught sight of two notes he had written during her absence, and with a blush and a laugh laid her finger on the back of one, as he held it in his hand, ready to send. "I can see the name, Gowrie," she said.
"Well, wild girl," he answered; "I will not send it if you dislike it. It is only a note of invitation to Hume, asking him to meet us at Dirleton. Shall I tear it?"
Her only reply was a playful tap on the cheek, and away she ran to get ready.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
It was about three o'clock in the evening when Gowrie and his sister, followed by eight or nine servants on horseback, set out from the gates of Holyrood. She looked bright and happy, and Gowrie gazed at her from time to time with a look of thoughtful affection, tracing in the beautiful young woman the same lines he well remembered in the beautiful child.
"Well, dear Beatrice," he said, "your little heart seems full of rejoicing, and your cheek looks as fresh as the rose, and your light limbs, though they be not at the largest, quite ready for any exertion that may be needed."