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