Startled, she drew her robes more tightly about her and, seeing who the intruder was, she cried: “Ruthven!”

Ruthven came into the room hesitantly. He stood before her and dropped to his knees.

“Your attitude has changed, my lord, since you came here with those fellow-traitors.”

He lifted his eyes to her face and now she understood the expression in them. It angered her, yet at the same time she felt exultant. In the extremity of her grief she had forgotten the power she had always possessed to make men her slaves.

Ruthven rose to his feet.

“Your Majesty,” he said, “if you could but know how I have suffered for my part in this!”

Mary turned from him and took a seat by the window.

Ruthven said: “Your Majesty, do not show yourself to the guard. It would be well if we were not seen . . . together.”

“You have something to tell me?” she asked, rising and moving away to a part of the room which could not be seen from outside. Ruthven brought a stool and she sat down.

“I can go back and forth between the mainland and the castle, Your Majesty,” he said.

She wanted to laugh aloud. Had she not known that some way of escape would be offered her?

“And I have friends on the mainland . . . .” she murmured.

“Seton, Fleming, Herries . . . .” he said.

“Huntley,” she added. “Bothwell.”

“They are in the North, Your Majesty. There are others nearer . . . not far from this island, on the mainland across the water.”

“And you have a plan for helping me to escape from this prison?”

“Not . . . yet, Your Majesty. I wished to talk to you of such a plan.”

“Tell me one thing first. Why have you changed sides?”

Ruthven was silent. He was a connection of Darnley’s and had joined those nobles who had determined to avenge the murder. He had been against the Queen at Carberry Hill. Her adversaries had considered him sufficiently her enemy to put him in charge of her—with Lindsay—on the ride from Edinburgh to Lochleven. And now he was ready to be a traitor to his friends for her sake.

She must be cautious. But because there had been so many men ready to serve her she asked the question of Ruthven merely that he might confirm what she believed she knew.

“It has caused me much pain to see Your Majesty treated in this way.”

“You gave no sign when Lindsay had his sword at my throat.”

“Had he attempted to harm you I should have killed him. I stifled my anger because I thought I could serve you better in secret.”

“And how do you plan to serve me?”

“By obeying your orders.”

“How can I trust you?”

Ruthven took a step toward her. She was amazed when he lifted her from her stool and, putting his lips against hers, kissed her violently.

She tried to draw away in anger, but she was so weak that she found herself powerless in his arms.

“You . . . are insolent,” she panted.

“I love you,” said Ruthven. “I have fought against this without avail. I will bring you out of this prison. I will set you on the throne. They speak true when they say you are the most desirable woman in Scotland. I would say in the whole world . . . .”

“I command you to release me,” she cried.

But he laughed at her. He had heard rumors of the manner in which Bothwell had swept away her protests. She was a Queen, it was true; but she was completely feminine. It was her submission to Bothwell which had brought her to her present state. She was not meant to be a lonely monarch like Elizabeth beyond the Border. She was meant to be a woman first. It was merely by chance that she was also a Queen.

Bothwell had conquered; so would he.

His impatient hands were on her robe, and she cried in panic: “Jane! Marie! Where are you?”

But now his hand was over her mouth. It was meant to be like that scene in Buchanan’s House, when Bothwell had come to her unannounced and torn her garments from her quivering body. But it was so different. The memory of Bothwell was vivid; and this was no Bothwell.

“Mary,” he cried breathlessly, “do not bring them here. That would spoil our plans. If it were known that you and I were lovers . . . ”

With a great effort she held him off and, although he still kept his arms about her, their faces were no longer close. “You insolent fool!” she said. “Do you think that I would take you for my lover? Do you think you merely have to break into my room and insult me, to have me begging for your favors? You must be mad, Lord Ruthven. And if you do not take your arms from about me I shall shout for help. I shall tell Master Lindsay what you have done . . . what you have said to me.”

He would not release her; he had caught her against him once more, and she felt his face hard against hers. She tried to catch at his hair but he only laughed wildly.

“Is it too much to ask?” he whispered. “I will make you free. All I ask is a little affection.”

“My affection would never be yours, Lord Ruthven.”

She tore herself from his arms and ran to the door. He was there before her, barring her way.

“You act like a coy virgin,” he complained. “All Scotland knows you are not that.”

Her face was very pale and she was shaking with anger.

“I have loved men,” she said quietly, “and men have loved me. I never offered myself for profit, my lord Ruthven. You are mistaken. You have invaded the privacy of your Queen, not any man’s harlot. Go now. It would be well if I never saw your face again. Then I might find it easier to forget your conduct on this night. It would go hard with you if I, escaping from this prison, remembered it.”

She looked so regal standing there that Ruthven was overcome by dismay at what he had done.

He stammered: “Forgive me, Your Majesty. I fear my love for you was greater than my good sense.”

“Go,” she said. “And if you would please me, keep from my sight.”

He bowed and went out, and she leaned against the door; her heart was beating madly and she was still trembling. She stumbled over to her bed and lay there.

She was thinking: At any time he could come in to me. So could others. I have subdued him on this occasion, but will there be others?

Jane and Marie must in future sleep in her apartments. Otherwise she would never feel safe from the lechery of those who were supposed to be guarding her.

I must escape, she told herself. There must be some who would help me . . . without conditions such as Ruthven’s.

MARY LAY DOZING in her bed. Jane slept at the foot of it and Marie on a pallet on the floor. She had not told them the reason why she had insisted on this arrangement, but they guessed that she had been disturbed by the attention of some male member of the household, for they looked upon this as inevitable now that she was regaining her health and with it her beauty.

A sudden explosion split the silence. Jane and Marie were on their feet exclaiming with surprise because there was a reddish glow in the room.

The Queen sat up in her bed, shaking back her luxuriant hair.

“The Highlanders have come to rescue Your Majesty!” cried Jane.

“Is it so?” said Mary excitedly; and as she rose from her bed and Jane ran to help her on with her robe another explosion was heard.

Mary was at the window. In the sky was a glow and there was a smell of smoke in the air. Near the lake a great bonfire was blazing and she could see men about it—soldiers with pikes and halberds.

Then again came a shattering explosion.

“They are firing the ordnance of the castle,” she said.

“What does this mean?”

“It would seem, Your Majesty,” suggested Marie, “that they are celebrating some great event.”

“I must know what,” insisted Mary.

She went to the door of her chamber; a guard, who was standing outside her door, immediately turned to her and she asked: “It would seem some great event is being celebrated. I would know what.”

The man let his eyes wander from her head to her feet in their velvet slippers which showed beneath her loose robe. There was insolence in his manner which he scarcely troubled to hide.

“The coronation of the King of Scotland,” he answered her.

He was resentful because he was not outside, taking his part in the celebrations; he had to remain at this door and guard the prisoner. And who was she? he asked himself. Nothing but a whore if rumor was true—a whore and a murderess. And there was he, denied the pleasure his fellows were enjoying—because of her.

It was true that he had drunk rather freely of the wine which had been brought to him by one of his comrades; and since drinking it he had felt a fine fellow, which made it all the more irritating that he should have been left to guard the woman.

“Coronation of the King of Scotland!” repeated Mary, aghast.

“That’s what I said,” the soldier gruffly answered.

Mary did not hear the step on the stair; and when a voice said: “You forget you address the Queen!” she was startled. And looking up she saw the young Douglas—the one with the earnest eyes and frank, open face.

The soldier’s attitude changed slightly and the young Douglas went on: “Stand to attention when the Queen addresses you.”

The soldier obeyed.

The young man came forward and bowed. “Your Majesty, I trust you have not been subjected to a lack of respect.”

“It is something to which I have become accustomed since entering this place,” she answered.

“Then I ask forgiveness for all who have failed to treat Your Majesty with the homage due to you.”

She smiled, and the young man said to the soldier: “You may join your friends outside. I will take your place.”