Waving his hands towards the foot of the table, "Madam," he cried, "the place for the Princess Margaret is here."
For a moment the Queen fell back, surprised at old Lord Mendip's audacity, then her eyes glittered ominously as she turned to the adjutant of the Guard.
"Tell this gentleman," she said, "to stand aside."
So she swept on to the throne, and there turning, faced her enemies. Our Lady was in mourning, robed in a cloud of dusky violet silk, some folds of it veiling her head and making the sad face white in livid contrast. Verily she was Queen, if only by right of sorrow, by majesty of pain, and by dominion of men's love and worship.
"My lords," she said, nervously, "and gentlemen," this with a gracious bow, and a smile of welcome. "I am shy at having to meet you here again—forgive that to a woman—here, where you honoured me with—with your homage. Do you remember, it was in this very room, and the gray light stole in through the frost on those windows. How bitterly cold it was, and I had just come from where my dear father lay in death. Don't you remember? You, my Lord Mendip, cried 'Long live Queen Margaret!' You, Mr. Jesmond, told me how I must wear the terrible white crown, sit on the stone of Destiny—and I cried. You, Sir Roderic Scott, were first to kiss my hand—this hand which has gone cold at the very thought of it. And afterwards, in the Abbey, before the altar, you swore to serve me—all of you. How have you kept that oath?"
The Ministers were standing in groups about the table, whispering one to another behind their hands. Lord Roderic Scott was inquiring of the impassive Guards as to his Grace of Ulster, when once again the Queen began to speak.
"You have come," this very gently, "to receive—what are the words? Yes, my repudiation of the treason of Mr. Brand. There are some other things mentioned, I think. Will you not sit down?"
Reluctantly, one by one, the Ministers took their seats in order of precedence.
"Thank you," said Margaret, "it is right that you should sit, and that I stand until I have dealt with this matter of treason. I am to repudiate treason. Oh, my lords and gentlemen of the Imperial Council, do you forget that by the Coronation oaths I must do more than repudiate every treason? I am bound to punish treason, to punish treason with death. And I am resolved this day, either to punish all treason in my realm, or die in the attempt—yes, die! I know the cost. I have been honoured with the service of many loyal men, and I have not failed any of them in love or gratitude. I have only found one strong friend in the whole world, and he is John Brand. I have not failed him in love or in gratitude. He has dared to be true, dared to be loyal, dared to be my friend—and he has paid the price. He was the richest man in the world—who is so poor now? He was the most powerful subject that ever a sovereign had—who is so fallen? He was desperately wounded fighting for me, he is a hunted outcast for my sake, and he is ready at any time to die for me.
"The man who is guilty of treason must die, or I refuse to live.