She drew a ring from her finger and slipped it on to one of his.
“Be this the pledge, then,” she said; “and so content and rest yourself.”
With that she broke from him, white and scared, and reached the door. Yet with her hand upon the latch she paused. Looking at him she saw that he was smiling, and perhaps horror of her betrayal of him overwhelmed her. It must be that she then desired to warn him, yet with Bothwell within earshot she realized that any warning must precipitate the tragedy, with direst consequences to Bothwell and herself.
To conquer her weakness, she thought of David Rizzio, whom Darnley had murdered almost at her feet, and whom this night was to avenge. She thought of the Judas part that he had played in that affair, and sought persuasion that it was fitting he should now be paid in kind. Yet, very woman that she was, failing to find any such persuasion, she found instead in the very thought of Rizzio the very means to convey her warning.
Standing tense and white by the door, regarding him with dilating eyes, she spoke her last words to him.
“It would be just about this time last year that Davie was slain,” she said, and on that passed out to the waiting Bothwell.
Once on the stairs she paused and set a hand upon the shoulder of the stalwart Borderer.
“Must it be? Oh, must it be?” she whispered fearfully.
She caught the flash of his eyes in the half gloom as he leaned over her, his arm about her waist drawing her to him.
“Is it not just? Is it not full merited?” he asked her.