"You express more surprise than satisfaction," said the queen, who was an acute reader of the human face, and could read all its varying expressions. "You dislike the high trust I would repose in you?" she added, with a proud but peculiar smile.
"Oh, madam, do not say so—I but——"
"Or the journey by sea, or a residence in Paris, or I know not what. Mon Dieu! would that I could go with her to merry France again; but that may never, never be. I have her turbulent kingdom to watch over as a sacred trust; and as its regent—for regent of Scotland I shall be!—I must bide any time in Holyrood."
"Your majesty must pardon me; I dislike neither the journey nor the splendid trust you would repose in me; but—but——"
"But what?" Florence coloured deeply, played with the plume in his bonnet, and hesitated.
"Queens are unused to doubts; but since you seem so averse to my offer, I must e'en repose the greater trust in the Countess of Yarrow, who has already consented to go."
"Consented to go!—to leave me; has Madeline really consented?" exclaimed poor Florence, in his desperation forgetting all his prudence.
"She has," replied the smiling queen.
"Oh, madam, can she go thus and leave me behind—who love her so tenderly—so well!"
"What would you have her to do!" said Mary of Lorraine; "it is arranged that, in charge of the Lords Livingstone and Erskine, together with the Earl and Countess of Yarrow, my daughter proceeds to France in the ship of M. de Villegaignon."