‘They have the right to be,’ said her mate; ‘and it is only thus, let me tell you, that our Queen will be well wedded.’ She grew exceedingly serious. ‘Look you, Fleming, she is in danger, she is dangerous. I know very well what is passing up and down between this and the Castle rock. Ask me not—seek not to learn. It is not enough for her that she contract with this man or that. I tell you, she must want him.’
Fleming blushed painfully, but there was no gainsaying the truth. ‘It is true, she hath a great spirit.’
‘Ay,’ muttered Livingstone grimly, ‘and needeth a greater.’
‘They say,’ Fleming continued, ‘that the Lord Darnley’s is a royal soul.’
And Livingstone ended the council. ‘Let the young man come up. We can but look at him.’
Mary Livingstone, the divorced, had a secret of her own, but made very light of it. The Master of Sempill demanded her person; said he could not be denied. Her father was willing, and his father more than willing; yet she laughed it all away. ‘I am husband of the Queen of Scots,’ she said, ‘or was so yesterday. What should I do with the Master?’
The old lord, her father, tapped his teeth. ‘You speak pleasantly, daughter, of a pleasant privilege of yours. But the Master is a proper man, who must have a better answer.’
‘Let him bide till I am ready,’ says the good Livingstone.
‘I doubt he will do it, my lass. He may spoil.’
‘Then he is not worth the having, my lord,’ replied the maid. ‘What use have I for perishable goods?’