‘At this spiteful speech the Queen, in her turn, smiled. She was far from that sort of recrimination. Presently she began in a new and colder tone—remembering her errand. “Why are you here?” she asked the Countess.
‘She was answered, “It is my lord’s pleasure.”
‘“He is very clement, I think,” said the Queen.
‘The Countess made no reply; and Sempill, who knew whether clemency had moved my lord or not, did all she could to prevent the Queen from knowing it also. Unfortunate lady! She gave her new suspicions.
‘“You do not answer me, mistress,” she said, in her high peremptory way. “I said that my lord is clement, and you make no reply. You will tell me these are your jointure-lands, I suppose? Let be for that. Tell me now this—How are you here?”
‘The Countess hereupon, and for the first time, looked her in the face, her own being venomous beyond a man’s belief.
‘“How am I here? Just as you may have been at Dunbar, madam—as his kept woman, just.”
‘“You lie! You lie!” cried the Queen. “Dear God, she is a liar! Take back your lies—they hurt me.”
‘She pressed her side with all her might. I thought that Sempill would have struck the cruel devil. But she never flinched.