that her ladies were pale and alarmed. She felt, however, that the moment was critical. She was aware that the austere personages before her were men, with whom the spirit of the times was proud and influential. Upon the report of their reception much, she knew, depended, and accordingly, with that dignity and presence of mind which she ever evinced on the most trying occasions, she thanked Dr. Glossar for the charity of their intentions towards her. She assured him of her desire to deserve the good opinion of all just and wise men; and that she trusted, with God's blessing, so to deport herself as to merit a continuance of the love and loyalty of which their zeal was so remarkable a testimony; and presenting her hand to the Doctor, he condescended to bow over it with more deference than might have been expected from the severity of his address. She then, with her wonted affability withdrew; but, instead of presenting her hand to the Count, to lead her away, she leaned upon his arm, and he felt that she was fluttered and disturbed. She, however, concealed her emotion until they were returned into the gallery, when, with a slight hysterical exclamation, she burst into a momentary fit of tears, and said, "I hope we are not to have too much of this. I was told what I had to expect, but it is more racy than the description. Cannot these good men be admonished that queens expect courtesy, and that ladies look for fair speeches ?” The Count expressed himself with so much vehemence against the rudeness of the divines, that Mary was obliged to repress his fervour. "Truly," said she, turning to the Lady Mary Livingstone, "thy account was none too rough; they are grim carles, but that old man had in him something of the leaven of more courtly breeding: he was born before rudeness was esteemed a grace of virtue. What think you, Count, of that gaunt dominie? He is a fellow of excellent impudence! but it were not wise to tell the world what we think of him." The Count at the moment recollected that he was the same person who had supplanted himself in the affections of the Lady Margaret Douglas, and, emboldened by what the Queen in her vexation had expressed, spoke of him with derision and unmeasured contumely. Mary, however, suddenly interrupted him. 66 Hush, my lord!" said she; "I thought you a more discreet courtier, than to think aloud in a palace." And it was fortunate for Dufroy that the Queen was so much on her guard; for just at that moment, the Prior of St. Andrew's, afterward the celebrated Earl and Regent Murray, entered the gallery. He had heard of the audience which the Queen had so readily vouchsafed to the Protestant divines, and, being himself of the reformed religion, was hastening to grace the interview with his presence. 66 "You are too late," said the Queen; " and you have missed a lesson of sweet counsel." "So that your Majesty," replied the Prior, "lay it to heart, I shall not lack of the fruits of it." 66 "Verily," replied the Queen, and she looked at Count Dufroy, we shall not soon forget it. Tell me, I pray you, my Lord Prior, if your reformed divines are all such plainspoken men ?" The Prior looked at her for a moment, and then said, "I know of none among them who fear to speak the truth." "I would that it consisted with their integrity," said Mary, "to amend their manners, as well as to reform the Church." This little sally of her unsuspicious temper was not forgotten by the Prior; but he regarded her with brotherly affection; and, though he wrote it down in his heart, he yet, out of the love and pride with which he regarded her, as his sister, kept it at that time from the world; but he augured ill from it to that religion in which he was at once so piously and boldly engaged. CHAPTER XXVIII. "He reads much; He is a great observer; and he looks JULIUS CESAR. WHEN the Count Dufroy left Southennan in his apartment at Luckie Hutchie's, our hero remained for some time by himself, thoughtful almost to regret. He had long esteemed the character of the Count, respected him, indeed, as a nobleman of lofty bearing, and he was disappointed at discovering the latent antipathy with which he seemed affected towards Knockwhinnie. But this feeling was in some measure compensated by the circumstances which Dufroy related concerning the abduction. It seemed that he had it now in his power to assure the Outlaw of the innocence of his lady, and that the profligate Auchenbrae was the guilty party. As he was ruminating over these topics and of the incidents his boy had told him, respecting Knockwhinnie and Friar Michael taking refuge in the house in which Baldy had provided him with lodgings, a letter was brought to him from Knockwhinnie, the contents of which surprised him not a little. The Outlaw stated, that the information he had received from Balwham, the inn-keeper, had greatly affected his mind, and that in consequence, and until his outlawry could be reversed, he had determined to avail himself of the return of one of the French vessels which had come with the Queen, to go over to France, and to ascertain at the Ursuline convent at Caen, into which his wife had retired, the facts of her story. The vessel was to sail that morning; and he concluded by entreating Southennan, in the interval, to procure for him the pardon. This letter exceedingly disconcerted the young Laird: he saw in it the characteristic precipitancy of Knockwhinnie, and could not but lament that he should, on the very eve of explanation, have withdrawn himself from the scene where he was most wanted. His absence, during the process of soliciting the pardon, was in itself prudent enough; but he could have retired into the country, and awaited the result there. It seemed also strange that Knockwhinnie should have appeared so little interested in his daughter, as to think of leaving Edinburgh without making even an attempt to see her; but in this our hero reasoned more from his own feelings, than from the common nature of man. Knockwhinnie had scarcely ever seen his child; her image occupied faintly but a small space in his mind, while that of his lady absorbed, in a great degree, all his thoughts and feelings. Moreover, the bosom of Southennan was filled with the beauty of Adelaide; she was to him the most important object of his ruminations; his interest in her had been increased by his conversation with Count Dufroy, and he could not conceive how she could be regarded with so much indifference by her father. Altogether, he felt himself in a state of disquietude. At last, he finally resolved to direct the removal of his luggage to the lodgings which Baldy had taken, and to proceed to the palace, in order to obtain an introduction to Adelaide; for although he was dissatisfied with the reluctance which the Count evinced to take any part in mitigating the condition of Knockwhinnie, yet his habitual respect for that nobleman, and the part he took in the affairs of Adelaide, made him still solicitous to cultivate and retain his friendship. As Baldy had expressed it, the courtiers only engaged dry lodgings, that is, house-room-living out of doors in the hostels and other places, where dinners and entertainments were prepared. In sooth, bating the names, and the style of accommodation, there was no great difference between the mode of life among the gallants of those days and the exquisites of these. Thus it happened, that in proceeding towards the palace, Southennan went to the Unicorn, then a place of fashionable resort, as we have already intimated, to bespeak a place at the dinner-table; for the day was now advanced towards noon, and the dining hour was at one o'clock. While our hero was settling terms with the host, a young gentleman came in, and inquired for some of the other foreign courtiers who had come from France. The appearance of this stranger took the attention of Southennan. He was a short, thick, bandy-legged figure, of a dark olive Italian complexion, an aquiline nose, large black whiskers, eyebrows like the night, and eyes vivid, piercing, and intelligent. In his dress he was rather more showy than was then common, except on gala occasions: his ruff and the orVOL. I.-9 namental parts, were unusually costly, and he wore a gold chain, with a medallion of the Queen attached to it, richer than any which Southennan had yet observed on the other attendants of her Majesty with the exception, however, of the chain and badge, he wore the uniform of the Piedmontese ambassador, who had accompanied Mary from France, having only that morning been accepted into the Queen's service. : : The stranger's language was remarkable for its tasteful propriety it was clear, apt, and elegant, insomuch that it was immediately manifest he was possessed of no ordinary talent, nor of common acquirements; but rich in both to an eminent degree. It was David Rizzio. When he had received an answer to his inquiries from the host Balwham, he turned to our hero with a degree of familiarity at which the reserve of his Scottish habits, notwithstanding the softening they had received from his English education, rather retreated. He began by remarking, that the town reminded him of Brussels, and inquired if Southennan had ever been there. The reply was of course in the negative, but a little more stingy than perhaps civility towards a stranger required it was simply "No!" "Ah!" said Rizzio," then you have not been yet abroad?" Southennan smiled, and replied, "The conjecture is not exactly correct, for I have been in France, and have also spent several years in England." "I might have thought so," said Rizzio, "for you do not wear much of the Scottish look about you." Southennan was not quite pleased with the compliment to his country as it, however, implied the discernment of some superiority in himself, he took no notice of the disparagement, but inquired how Rizzio was pleased with Scotland. "Bah!" exclaimed the Italian; "it is rich in rocks; the people grimace as if they were eating uncured olives, and the priests are as unmannerly as the winds; five of them, within the hour, have drawn more water from the Queen's fair eyes, than Eurus could have done in a March morning.' Although Southennan was of the unreformed church, he was yet too much of a Scotsman to relish the Italian's sneer at his countrymen, the Protestant clergy; the manner of Rizzio, however, which was playful and easy, took much from the sting of his sarcasms. They left the Unicorn together, and walked down the street towards the Palace, continuing their conversation, which, as they became better acquainted, grew more interesting to |