After our amicable understanding, Sir John and myself were very comfortable together, and when the sack and roast beef, for which the Royal Arms was justly famous, were brought in, we sat down to an enjoyable meal.

After supper Sir John lighted a small roll or stick made from the leaves of tobacco.  The stick was called a cigarro, and I, proud not to be behind him in new-fashioned, gentlemanly accomplishments, called to the landlord for a pipe.  Manners interrupted me when I gave the order and offered me a cigarro which I gladly accepted.

Despite my effort to reassure myself, I could not quite throw off a feeling of uneasiness whenever I thought of the manner in which I had betrayed to Sir John the fact that I was a friend to Mary Stuart.  I knew that treachery was not native to English blood, and my knowledge of mankind had told me that the vice could not live in Sir John Manners’s heart.  But he had told me of his residence at the court of Elizabeth, and I feared trouble might come to me from the possession of so dangerous a piece of knowledge by an enemy of my house.

I did not speak my thoughts upon the matter, and we sat the evening through discussing many subjects.  We warmed toward each other and became quite confidential.  I feel ashamed when I admit that one of my many sins was an excessive indulgence in wine.  While I was not a drunkard, I was given to my cups sometimes in a degree both dangerous and disgraceful; and during the evening of which I have just spoken I talked to Sir John with a freedom that afterward made me blush, although my indiscretion brought me no greater trouble.

My outburst of confidence was prompted by Sir John’s voluntary assurance that I need fear nothing from having told him that I was a friend of Queen Mary.  The Scottish queen’s name had been mentioned, and Sir John had said—­

“I take it, Sir Malcolm, that you are newly arrived in England, and I feel sure you will accept the advice I am about to offer in the kindly spirit in which it is meant.  I deem it unsafe for you to speak of Queen Mary’s friendship in the open manner you have used toward me.  Her friends are not welcome visitors to England, and I fear evil will befall those who come to us as refugees.  You need have no fear that I will betray you.  Your secret is safe with me.  I will give you hostage.  I also am Queen Mary’s friend.  I would not, of course, favor her against the interest of our own queen.  To Elizabeth I am and always shall be loyal; but the unfortunate Scottish queen has my sympathy in her troubles, and I should be glad to help her.  I hear she is most beautiful and gentle in person.”

Thus you see the influence of Mary’s beauty reached from Edinburgh to London.  A few months only were to pass till this conversation was to be recalled by each of us, and the baneful influence of Mary’s beauty upon all whom it touched was to be shown more fatally than had appeared even in my own case.  In truth, my reason for speaking so fully concerning the, Scottish queen and myself will be apparent to you in good time.