‘The moon is overhead, indeed, my lord,’ says the Secretary, ‘and her glamour all about us.’
But his master jumped away, and was soon sighing.
‘There is always a grain of sadness in the cup for us elders, Mr. Secretar; amari aliquid, alas! But I am served.’ He was supping in his room. ‘Master Bonnar will call down a blessing from on high.’ Master Bonnar was now ready.
The game went on through the meal. Lethington seemed to be standing on razors, the Earl not disapproving. The great man ate sparingly, and drank cold water; but his talk was incessant—of nothing at all—ever skirting realities, leading his hearers on, then skipping away. Not until the table was cleared and young Mr. Bonnar released from his blinking duties was the Secretary also delivered from torments. The scene shifted, the Earl suddenly chilled, and Lethington knew his ground. They got to work over letters from England, a new tone in which had troubled the Secretary’s dreams. He expounded them—some being in cypher—then summed up his difficulties.
‘It stands thus, my lord, as I take it. Here came over to us this young prince from England, with a free hand. We took what seemed fairly proffered; and why indeed should we be backward? We were as free to take him as her English Majesty was free to send him. Oh, there have been freedoms! I will not say we could have done no better, in all ways. No matter! We opened our arms to what came, as we thought, sped lovingly towards us. Mr. Randolph himself could not deny that we had reason; and I shall make bold to say that never did lady show such kindness to a match, not of her own providing, as our mistress showed to this. But now, my lord, now, when the sun hath swelled the buds, there is a change in the wind from England—a nip, a hint of malice. These letters exhibit it, to my sense. I think Mr. Randolph may be recalled: I am not sure, but I do think it. I know that he desires it; I know that he suffers discomfort, that he does not see his way. “Is this young man our subject or yours?” he asketh. “Is he subject at all, or Regent rather? And if Regent, whom is he to rule?” No, my lord, Mr. Randolph, whether instructed or not, is itching to be off. And that is pity, because he is bond-slave of the Beaton, and would lavish all his counsel at her feet if she desired him. Briefly, my lord, I jalouse the despatch of Throckmorton to our Court, not upon a friendly mission.’
The Earl listened, but moved not a muscle. He looked like an image of old wax, when the pigment is all faded out, and the wan smooth stuff presents no lines to be read.
‘You are right,’ he said presently: ‘Mr. Throckmorton comes, but Mr. Randolph remains. The Queen of England——’ He stopped.
‘She is against us, my lord? She grudges us the heir of both crowns!’
‘I say not. She thinks him unworthy: but I must not believe it, nor must you. Mr. Secretar, you shall go to England. Presently—presently—we must be very patient. Now of my sister, how doth she?’
‘The Queen dotes, my lord,’ said Lethington, and angered the Earl, it seemed.