The lady joined in the laugh, and then became grave.
“To Chartley?” she said. “And what wouldst thou at Chartley?”
It was on the tip of the girl’s tongue to reply, 60 “I go to meet my father,” but she caught herself in time. None must know of his journey there, and even though she who asked were beautiful and gracious she must be discreet.
“I wished to see Queen Mary,” she answered after a moment’s hesitation.
“To see Mary?” broke in one of the men who had drawn near during the above colloquy. “And may I ask, young sir, what business thou hast with Mary?”
“Why, why,” stammered Francis abashed by his harsh address and rude bearing. “I have no business. I only wished to see the queen.”
“Queen forsooth! Of what is she queen?” asked the other brusquely. “Of nothing, I trow. Not even is she mistress of her own actions. Queen forsooth!”
“Thou speakest truly, Paulet,” said the lady mildly. “Yet methinks it not becoming in thee to taunt Mary Stuart with the miserable state to which she hath been reduced. Boy, thou didst wish to see Mary. I am she.”
“Mary? Art thou in truth Queen Mary?” Francis exclaimed rapturously, and seeing the 61 assenting smile on the lady’s face she darted to her side and seizing her hand she kissed it fervently. “Oh,” she cried, “if thou art Mary, know that mistress of thy actions thou mayst not be, but thou dost reign in truth a queen over this poor heart.”
The dark eyes of Mary Stuart filled with tears and she pressed the girl’s hand tenderly.