The coach at once followed the guard and a score of yeomen followed us.

Queen Mary occupied the back seat of the coach, and Dorothy and I sat upon the front seat facing her.

Dorothy was exhausted, and her head lay upon my shoulder.  Now and again she would softly moan and sob, but she said nothing.  After a few minutes of silence Queen Mary spoke:—­

“Why did you betray me, you miserable wretch?  Why did you betray me?”

Dorothy did not answer.  Mary continued:—­

“Have I ever injured you in any manner?  Have I ever harmed you by thought, word, or deed?”

Dorothy’s only answer was a sob.

“Perhaps you are a canting fanatic, and it may be that you hate me for the sake of that which you call the love of God?”

“No, no, madam,” I said, “that was not the reason.”

“Do you know the reason, Malcolm?” asked Mary, addressing me for the first time.  My name upon her lips had a strange effect on me.  It was like the wafting to my nostrils of a sweet forgotten odor, or the falling upon my ears of a tender refrain of bygone days.  Her voice in uttering my name thrilled me, and I hated myself for my weakness.

I told Mary that I did not know Dorothy’s reasons, and she continued:—­

“Malcolm, you were not a party to my betrayal for the sake of revenging yourself on me?”

“God forbid!” I answered.  “Sir John Manners will assure you of my innocence.  I rode with Mistress Vernon to a cross-road within a league of Rutland, hoping thereby to assist her to give you and Sir John the alarm.”

My admission soon brought me into trouble.

“I alone am to blame,” said Dorothy, faintly.

“I can easily believe you,” said Mary, sharply.  “Did you expect to injure me?”

No answer came from Dorothy.

“If you expect to injure me,” Mary continued, “you will be disappointed.  I am a queen, and my Cousin Elizabeth would not dare to harm me, even though she might wish to do so.  We are of the same blood, and she will not wish to do me injury.  Your doting lover will probably lose his head for bringing me to England without his queen’s consent.  He is her subject.  I am not.  I wish you joy of the trouble you have brought upon him and upon yourself.”

“Upon him!” cried Dorothy.

“Yes, upon him,” continued Mary, relishing the torture she was inflicting.  “You will enjoy seeing him beheaded, will you not, you fool, you huzzy, you wretch?  I hope his death will haunt you till the end of your days.”

Poor Dorothy, leaning against me, said faintly:—­

“It will—­it will.  You—­you devil.”

The girl was almost dead from exhaustion and anguish, but she would have been dead indeed had she lacked the power to strike back.  I believe had it not been for Dorothy’s physical weakness she would have silenced Mary with her hands.

After a little time Dorothy’s heavy breathing indicated that she had fallen asleep.  Her head rested upon my shoulder, and the delicious perfume of her hair and the sweet warm breath from her lips were almost intoxicating even to me, though I was not in love with her.  How great must their effect have been coming upon John hot from her intense young soul!