She shook her head. He felt her tears fall hot on his hands.
‘But now,’ he said, ‘you must do as I bid you.’
Slowly she lifted then her head and faced him, looking up. He saw the glittering tears; an honest tenderness gave honesty to his words. ‘My heart!’ he said, ‘my heart!’ and kissed her where she stood.
Then he turned and left her alone; went by her into the thicket and climbed the wall into the neighbouring garden. For a long time she stayed, with her two hands clasped at her neck, where his had put them—for a long time, wondering and trembling and blushing in the dark.
CHAPTER XII
SCOTCHMEN’S BUSINESS
When the Earl of Bothwell took off his boots that same night, he said, as he threw them to his man Paris, ‘In the morning we go to business.’
‘Ha, in a good hour!’ says Paris, a boot in each hand. ‘And to what business will your lordship be pleased to go?’
‘Man’s business, you fool,’ says the Earl; ‘carving and clearing business; road-making business.’