"What, when her husband lies murdered close by? Oh, heavens!—oh, good heavens!"
"Well, do you know, it does seem very odd indeed."
"But you, Katie—how can you talk of such horrors in such a way? What will be the fate of the rest of us, after this?"
"Why, you poor foolish boy, you needn't scold and go on so. I don't believe he's dead any more than you are. I believe that "His Majesty" only said it in fun. In fact, he never did actually say so."
Harry sighed a sigh of perplexity.
"But, you know," continued Katie, "Mrs. Russell went and got it into her poor old head. Oh, she's very, very imaginative, poor dear old auntie, and she would have it so. And she thinks that all the speeches which "His Majesty" makes at me are intended for her."
"The wretched creature!" said Harry; "to speculate upon her husband's death, and think of such a thing as marriage."
"Oh, but she says that it is not love that makes her think of it, but State policy."
"State fiddlesticks!"
"She says that Mary Queen of Scots married Bothwell after her husband's murder, from motives of State policy."