The young Countess said, ‘Suffer me conduct your Majesty to the chambers. All the household stuff is at your service.’
She shook her head. ‘Witchcraft may come back with comfort! No, no, my dear, I will not plunder you. I shall do very well as I am.’ Madness! She was on pin-points till she saw her lover; but it was not that which made her refuse warmth and dry clothes. It was a word of her own, which had turned aside as she used it and given her a stab. Would she not ‘plunder’ this lady, good lack? She had a scruple, you perceive.
Tongue-tied Huntly was in great distress. ‘I would heartily urge you, madam——’ and so forth; and his sister made the cold addition that all was prepared.
The Queen was now trembling. ‘You are kind—but I have no need. I am very well, and cannot stay long. Let me fulfil my errand—see my wounded councillor—and depart. Come, take me to him now. Will you do me this kindness?’ She spoke like a child, with eagerness too simple to be indecent.
‘I will prepare my lord, madam, for the high honour you propose him,’ says the Countess, after a moment’s pause.
‘Yes, yes—go now.’
She went to the fire and held her shaking hands towards it. Do what she could, there was no staying the shivering-fits, nor the clouds of steam that came from her, nor the ring of water round her skirts.
Huntly was miserable. ‘I beseech you, I beseech you, madam, dry yourself. This is——Oh, but you run into grave peril. I would that I could make you believe that all this house is yours, and all hearts in it——’
‘All hearts—all hearts—it may be,’ she said with a break in her voice; ‘but some there are here with no hearts. Ah, what heart is in a body that would not find some pity for me?’