brows, that prevented her from being a pretty child. Her adopted
mother shrank from such observations, and was rejoiced that a winding
of horns, and a shout from the boys, announced that the expected
arrival was about to take place. The ladies darted to the window,
and beholding the avenue full of horsemen and horsewomen, their
accoutrements and those of their escort gleaming in the sun, each
mother gathered her own chicks to herself, smoothed the plumage
somewhat ruffled by sport, and advanced to the head of the stone
steps, William Cavendish, the eldest of the boys, being sent down to
take his stepfather's rein and hold his stirrup, page fashion.

Clattering and jingling the troop arrived. The Earl, a stout, square
man, with a long narrow face, lengthened out farther by a light-
coloured, silky beard, which fell below his ruff, descended from his
steed, gave his hat to Richard Talbot, and handed from her horse a
hooded and veiled lady of slender proportions, who leant on his arm
as she ascended the steps.

The ladies knelt, whether in respect to the heads of the family, or
to the royal guest, may be doubtful.

The Queen came up the stairs with rheumatic steps, declaring,
however, as she did so, that she felt the better for her ride, and
was less fatigued than when she set forth. She had the soft, low,
sweet Scottish voice, and a thorough Scottish accent and language,
tempered, however, by French tones, and as, coming into the warmer
air of the hall, she withdrew her veil, her countenance was seen.
Mary Stuart was only thirty-one at this time, and her face was still
youthful, though worn and wearied, and bearing tokens of illness.
The features were far from being regularly beautiful; there was a