He gave an involuntary start—an exclamation rose to his lips, but died there; and all he had lately heard of this false page's tenderness and assiduity, flashed like fire upon his memory, and his hand wandered to the halft of his dagger, for grimly the thoughts of assassination and revenge floated before him.
Darnley kissed her hand as he sank back exhausted; thus showing that he was aware of her sex, and a blindness seemed to fall upon the eyes of Bolton, for he had loved that French coquette with all the depth and truth of a brave and romantic heart; but the sight of all this tenderness lavished on a rival, and the consciousness that Mariette, whom he would have raised to the rank of a Scottish baron's wife, was content to be the mistress of this profligate king, entered like ice into his heart. There was a terrible expression in his face, when Mariette gave him one furtive glance of her timid eyes, and saw that she was discovered.
Fascinated and terrified by the sad and tender, yet serpent-like gaze of her former lover, she dared not remove her eyes; but sank down on the dais of the bed, and, clasping her hands, said in a low voice,—
"Ah, monsieur! forgive me? If ever thou didst love, in pity now forgive me! Thou knowest not what I have endured since I wronged thee—and how I have endeavoured to atone for it"——
"By such a scene as this?" replied Bolton, with a bitter smile; "but enough! I hope his majesty hath enjoyed his draught of the ptisan; for I doubt mickle if my Lady Mar will make such another browst—for him at least."
"Dost thou think he will die?" asked Mariette, breathlessly.
"Not of the fever!" replied Bolton, grimly. "But be true to thy charge, Mademoiselle Hubert—anon I will be with thee."
"Thou—when?" asked Mariette, gathering courage from his stoical coldness of manner.
"To-night!" he replied, with a smile that terrified her, as he took the ptisan cap from her passive hand, and left the chamber by a door opposite to that by which he had entered.
There was an agony in his heart that impelled him to seek solitude. Descending the turnpike stair by three steps at a time, and issuing into the fields, he traversed the path that led under the city walls towards the Porte of St. Mary's Wynd.