“Oh, thank you, sir,” she said. “I should dearly love to be an eavesdropper at your conference.”
Before he could reply, the door opened by which he had entered the park.
“In the fiend’s name, the king!” muttered James, in no manner pleased by the unwelcome interruption.
All colour left the girl’s face, and she hastily endeavoured to arrange in brief measure the disordered masses of her hair, somewhat tangled in the struggle. As Francis advanced up the walk, the genial smile froze on his lips, and an expression of deep displeasure overshadowed his countenance, a look of stern resentment coming into his eyes that would have made any man in his realm quail before him. The girl was the first to break the embarrassing silence, saying breathlessly,—
“Your majesty must not blame this Scottish knight. It is all my fault, for I lured him hither.”
“Peace, child,” exclaimed Francis in a voice of cold anger. “You know not what you say. What do you here alone with the King of Scotland?”
“The King of Scotland!” echoed Madeleine, in surprise, her eyes opening wide with renewed interest as she gazed upon him. Then she laughed. “They told me the King of Scotland was a handsome man!”
James smiled at this imputation on his appearance, and even the rigour of the lord of France relaxed a trifle, and a gleam of affection for the wayward girl that was not to be concealed, rose in his eyes.
“Sire,” said James slowly, “we are neither of us to blame. ’Tis the accident that brought us together must bear the brunt of consequence. I cannot marry Mary of Vendôme, and indeed I was about to beg your majesty to issue your command that she may wed your Constable of Falaise. If there is to be a union between France and Scotland other than now exists, this lady, and this lady alone, must say yes or no to it. Premising her free consent, I ask her hand in marriage.”
“She is but a child,” objected Francis, breathing a sigh, which had, however, something of relief in it.