Nothing more of importance passed that night. The packet of accounts
was handed over to Sir Andrew Melville, and the two gentlemen
dismissed with gracious good-nights.

Richard Talbot was entirely trusted, and when the next morning after
prayers, breakfast, and a turn among the stables, it was intimated
that the Queen was ready to see him anent my Lord's business, Sir
Ralf Sadler, who had his week's report to write to the Council,
requested that his presence might be dispensed with, and thus Mr.
Talbot was ushered into the Queen's closet without any witnesses to
their interview save Sir Andrew Melville and Marie de Courcelles.
The Queen was seated in a large chair, leaning against cushions, and
evidently in a good deal of pain, but, as Richard made his obeisance,
her eyes shone as she quoted two lines from an old Scotch ballad--


"'Madame, how does my gay goss hawk?
Madame, how does my doo?'


Now can I hear what I hunger for!"

"My gay gosshawk, madam, is flown to join Sir Francis Drake at
Plymouth, and taken his little brother with him. I come now from
speeding them as far as Derby."

"Ah! you must not ask me to pray for success to them, my good sir,--
only that there may be a time when nations may be no more divided,
and I fear me we shall not live to see it. And my doo--my little