Meantime Humfrey had been admitted to Queen Mary’s room, where she sat as usual at her needlework.  “You bring me tidings, my friend,” she said, as he bent his knee before her.  “Methought I heard a fresh stir in the Castle; who is arrived?”

“The Lord Buckhurst, so please your Grace, and Master Beale.  They crave an audience of your Grace in half an hour’s time.”

“Yea, and I can well guess wherefore,” said the Queen.  “Well, Fiat voluntas tua!  Buckhurst? he is kinsman of Elizabeth on the Boleyn side, methinks!  She would do me grace, you see, my masters, by sending me such tidings by her cousin.  They cannot hurt me!  I am far past that!  So let us have no tears, my lassies, but receive them right royally, as befits a message from one sovereign to another!  Remember, it is not before my Lord Buckhurst and Master Beale that we sit, but before all posterities for evermore, who will hear of Mary Stewart and her wrongs.  Tell them I am ready, sir.  Nay but, my son,” she added, with a very different tone of the tender woman instead of the outraged sovereign, “I see thou hast news for me.  Is it of the child?”

“Even so, madam.  I wot little yet, but what I know is hopeful.  She is with Madame de Salmonnet, wife of one of the suite of the French Ambassador.”

“Ah! that speaketh much,” said Mary, smiling, “more than you know, young man.  Salmonnet is sprung of a Scottish archer, Jockie of the salmon net, whereof they made in France M. de Salmonnet.  Chateauneuf must have owned her, and put her under the protection of the Embassy.  Hast thou had a letter from thy father?”

“I am told that one is among Will Cavendish’s mails, madam, and I hope to have it anon.”

“These men have all unawares brought with them that which may well bear me up through whatever may be coming.”

A second message arrived from Lord Buckhurst himself, to say how grieved he was to be the bearer of heavy tidings, and to say that he would not presume to intrude on her Majesty’s presence until she would notify to him that she was ready to receive him.

“They have become courteous,” said Mary.  “But why should we dally?  The sooner this is over, the better.”

The gentlemen were then admitted:  Lord Buckhurst grave, sad, stately, and courteous; Sir Annas Paulett, as usual, grim and wooden in his puritanical stiffness; Sir Drew Drury keeping in the background as one grieved; and Mr. Beale, who had already often harassed the Queen before, eager, forward, and peremptory, as one whose exultation could hardly be repressed by respect for his superior, Lord Buckhurst.

Bending low before her, this nobleman craved her pardon for that which it was his duty to execute; and having kissed her hand, in token of her personal forgiveness, he bade Mr. Beale read the papers.

The Clerk of the Council stood forth almost without obeisance, till it was absolutely compelled from him by Buckhurst.  He read aloud the details of the judgment, that Mary had been found guilty by the Commission, of conspiracy against the kingdom, and the life of the Queen, with the sentence from the High Court of Parliament that she was to die by being beheaded.