The dinner-hour was approaching, and Mary, who in the morning was looking
forward impatiently to the enjoyment of her triumph over Lady Lochleven,
now saw her advance with uneasiness: the mere idea of again facing this
woman, whose pride one was always obliged to oppose with insolence, was,
after the moral fatigues of the day, a fresh weariness. So she decided
not to appear for dinner, as on the day before: she was all the more glad
she had taken this resolution, that this time it was not Lady Lochleven
who came to fulfil the duties enjoined on a member of the family to make
the queen easy, but George Douglas, whom his mother in her displeasure at
the morning scene sent to replace her. Thus, when Mary Seyton told the
queen that she saw the young man with dark hair cross the courtyard on
his way to her, Mary still further congratulated herself on her decision;
for this young man's insolence had wounded her more deeply than all his
mother's haughty insults. The queen was not a little astonished, then,
when in a few minutes Mary Seyton returned and informed her that George
Douglas, having sent away the servants, desired the honour of speaking to
her on a matter of importance. At first the queen refused; but Mary
Seyton told her that the young man's air and manner this time were so
different from what she had seen two days before, that she thought her
mistress would be wrong to refuse his request.

The queen rose then, and with the pride and majesty habitual to her,
entered the adjoining room, and, having taken three steps, stopped with a
disdainful air, waiting for George to address her.

Mary Seyton had spoken truly: George Douglas was now another man. To-day
he seemed to be as respectful and timid as the preceding day he had
seemed haughty and proud. He, in his turn, made a step towards the
queen; but seeing Mary Seyton standing behind her--