“Signed freely and as the testimony of one of our last royal wishes, in
our castle of Lochleven, the ___ June 1567”.  (The date was left blank.)

There was a moment’s silence after this reading, then

“Did you hear, madam?” asked Ruthven.

“Yes,” replied Mary Stuart,—­“yes, I have heard rebellious words that I have not understood, and I thought that my ears, that one has tried to accustom for some time to a strange language, still deceived me, and that I have thought for your honour, my lord William Ruthven, and my lord Lindsay of Byres.”

“Madam,” answered Lindsay, out of patience at having kept silence so long, “our honour has nothing to do with the opinion of a woman who has so ill known how to watch over her own.”

“My lord!” said Melville, risking a word.

“Let him speak, Robert,” returned the queen.  “We have in our conscience armour as well tempered as that with which Lord Lindsay is so prudently covered, although, to the shame of justice, we no longer have a sword.  Continue, my lord,” the queen went on, turning to Lord Ruthven:  “is this all that my subjects require of me?  A date and a signature?  Ah! doubtless it is too little; and this second paper, which you have kept in order to proceed by degrees, probably contains some demand more difficult to grant than that of yielding to a child scarcely a year old a crown which belongs to me by birthright, and to abandon my sceptre to take a distaff.”

“This other paper,” replied Ruthven, without letting himself be intimidated by the tone of bitter irony adopted by the queen, “is the deed by which your Grace confirms the decision of the Secret Council which has named your beloved brother, the Earl of Murray, regent of the kingdom.”

“Indeed!” said Mary.  “The Secret Council thinks it needs my confirmation to an act of such slight importance?  And my beloved brother, to bear it without remorse, needs that it should be I who add a fresh title to those of Earl of Mar and of Murray that I have already bestowed upon him?  But one cannot desire anything more respectful and touching than all this, and I should be very wrong to complain.  My lords,” continued the queen, rising and changing her tone, “return to those who have sent you, and tell them that to such demands Mary Stuart has no answer to give.”

“Take care, madam,” responded Ruthven; “for I have told you it is only on these conditions that your pardon can be granted you.”

“And if I refuse this generous pardon,” asked Mary, “what will happen?”

“I cannot pronounce beforehand, madam; but your Grace has enough knowledge of the laws, and above all of the history of Scotland and England, to know that murder and adultery are crimes for which more than one queen has been punished with death.”

“And upon what proofs could such a charge be founded, my lord?  Pardon my persistence, which takes up your precious time; but I am sufficiently interested in the matter to be permitted such a question.”