He began to storm; but as she met every blast with the same words, he took another course. ‘A truce,’ he said, ‘madam, to your taunts. These may be my last words to you, or the first of many happier speeches. The past is past and over. I have admitted the excesses of my youth and temper; you have condoned them, or so professed. Now, madam, I say this: You have sent for me—here I am. If you suffer me, I stay, and use you as a loving man his wife. But if you will not, I go; and maybe you see me not again.’
She fairly cowered at the choice. She covered her ears. ‘Ah, no, no! Ah, but that is not possible!’ Why, was she to break her written promise, make foul again her washen hands? She sat astare, beaten down and dumb; and the words of her vow came up, as it were, fiery out of the floor, and smote her in the face like a hot breath.
But his courage rose at the glimpse of so much power in his hands. Not possible, said she. Ah, but he said it was essential. He looked at her, white and extended there; he felt and exulted in his strength. And then it came surging into his mind that she must be his price to stay, and that either to get her again or to lose her he would drown Scotland in blood.
There was a wild-beating pause, in the which she sat, catching at the edge of the coffer, her face turned to the window. He could see her strained throat, her short-rising breast, and knew that he could prevail. For once in his foolish life he took the straight road to what he craved; for he shook his hair back, strode directly to her, took her up and caught her round the arms. So she was all a prisoner. ‘Aha, my wood-bird, aha! Now, now I have you in a net. Not again do you escape.’ He began to kiss her face; there was no escape indeed. Abashed, overwhelmed, half-swooning, she gave up; and so made her bargain. To save him from murder she murdered her own honour. So she would put it to herself. But let us, for our part, record it in her honour.
If you will reason out his nature—which is that of the fed mule—you will find his behaviour next day in the Council of a piece with all the rest. Having been made master by her nobility, he supposed himself master by the grace of God given to man. When he marched into the Council Chamber and took her proffered hand, his pride swelled up into his eyes, and made him see thickly. Ho! now for the manly part. Here, in the midst of his enemies—before this black Moray, this dark-smiling Huntly, this lean thief Lethington—here, too, he would play the man.
Knowing him pledged to her, the Queen was gentle. ‘I beseech you, my lord,’ she said, ‘if you have any grief against me—as now I think you have not—or any cause which moves you to quit this realm (which I cannot suppose), declare it before these lords. If I have denied you any right, either of access to the prince our son, or any other right, pray you rehearse it now.’
He would not speak out. He pursed his lips, frowned, raised his eyebrows, tapped his heel on the floor. He said that he must be advised. He did not see any of his friends here, with whom he must consult. There were many things to consider, many calls upon him—from here, from there, from elsewhere. He could not speak hastily, he said, or give pledges.
Blankly dismayed, she began: ‘But, my good lord, your promise to me——’ really forgetting for that moment what his promises were worth. There, however, she stopped—the words seemed to choke her.
Lethington rose and addressed him, speaking in French, and good French. This was a courtesy to the Queen, one of those trifling, terrible things which cost all Scotland dear. For the King blushed to the roots of his hair, and there was no hiding blushes upon that blond face. He tried to answer in English; but a look of comical dismay in Lethington warned him that he had blundered the sense. He broke off short—furious, hot all over, blind with mortification, and mad.
‘You speak too much French for me, Mr. Secretary. My Scots, I doubt, would not be to your liking, either of phrase or deed.’ His lip shook—he was nearly sobbing. ‘Madam,’ he cried out, ‘madam, adieu. You will not see my face for many days.’ He lifted that hot, passionate, boy’s face. ‘Gentlemen, adieu.’