In return, after a moment’s regard of her beauty, he choked a sob in his breath, shook his head and lifted it.
‘Now God judge me, if I seek thee not, my Mary!’
‘Come then,’ said the Queen—yet stood timorously still.
The Earl of Moray stepped forward with his arms uplifted. His face was deadly white, but his eyes were fires. ‘Go in—go in——!’ he said with fierce breath, and seemed to beat them before him into the open doorway.
When he had his royal pair safe in the chapel, the candles lit and the priest at his secret prayers before the altar[2]—then, and not before, did Signior Davy call in the maids, Arthur Erskine, and Des-Essars. They came trooping in together—nine, of them, all told—saw the lit altar, the priest in yellow and white, the server, and those two who knelt at the rail in their tumbled finery. Mary Sempill gasped and would have cried out, Mary Seton blinked her eyes, as if to give herself courage; but Davy pointed awfully to the priest, who had made his introit and opened the missal, and now stood rapt, with his hands stuck out. If Arthur Erskine had moved, if Des-Essars had started for the door, these fluttered women might have——But Erskine stood like a stone Crusader, and little Jean-Marie was saying his prayers. The Earl of Moray was without the door, having refused to come in.
Thus the deed was done. The Italian himself shut the chamber door upon them and warned off the scared maids.
Outside that door, Adam Gordon and Des-Essars whispered their quarrel out.
‘She gave me a ring when I came back from Liddesdale and hunting Bothwell,’ says Adam.
‘Pooh, man: that she would have thrown to a groom. Bastien has had the like. And what matters it now whether she gave thee anything, or me anything? Ah!’