Father St. Bernard's heart was too full to reply: he raised his mild eyes to the ceiling, and crossed his wrinkled hands upon his breast.
"On Sunday first, I am to say a solemn mass for Queen Magdalene in my cathedral church at St. Andrew's," resumed the cardinal. "Sorely I regret that poor girl's death; but dost thou know that the Scottish church had much to fear from her; for, reared and educated as she had been by her almost heretic aunt, the Queen of Navarre, she was inclined to view too leniently this clamour raised by the heretics for liberty of conscience, as they are pleased to term their abominable creed—a creed by which they make our blessed Gospels like the bagpipe, on which every man may play a tune of his own devising. On my way to St. Andrew's, I will visit the king at Falkland, and this time, rest assured, my reverend friend, my promise shall not be forgotten."
"Oh, my lord!" murmured the now happy old man; "your eminence overwhelms me."
"There is now little time to lose. Young Balquhan and twenty arquebusiers of the king's guard must accompany me, in addition to the pikemen of my own; and the moment the pardon or order of release (if I deem her worthy of it, and receive it) is expede, Leslie shall return with it on the spur to Sir James of Cranstoun-Riddel;" and, as a sign that the interview was over, the cardinal, with an air of elegance and grace, which he possessed above all the courtiers of his time, gave the priest his jewelled hand to kiss, and thankfully and reverently this good old man, who was enough to be his father, kneeled down and kissed it.
"A thousand blessings on your eminence! Dominus vobiscum," said the priest.
"Dominus vobiscum, et cum spiritu tuo," said the cardinal, and stretched out his hand to a silver bell, which he rang.
Hurrying out from an inner chamber, Lord Lindesay drew back the arras which covered the doorway.
Then, as the priest with a joyous heart was about to retire, he was appalled by the spectral figure of Redhall (who had the private entrée of the cardinal's apartments at all hours), standing close behind the thick, heavy tapestry.
He started hurriedly forward, and the friar saw but too well that he had not only been listening, but had overheard, perhaps, the whole of their conversation.
His aspect was fearful; remorse, terror, and despair had wrought their worst upon him. His jaws had become haggard and his visage pallid; but the priest thought that he read a gleam of hatred and rage in his eyes as he passed him.