her simple spirit, and she shrank from this glittering show; but the
knowledge that her lover's life was in danger, and that her happiness was
here and now at stake, held her bravely to her place, beset as it was
with peril; for the Queen, with that eccentricity which had lifted her up
yesterday, might cast her down to-day, and she had good reason to fear
the power and influence of Leicester, whom she knew with a sure instinct
was intent on Michel's ruin. Behind all her nervous shrinking and her
heart's doubt, the memory of the face of the stranger she had seen last
night with Sir Andrew Melvill tortured her. She could not find the time
and place where she had seen the eyes that, in the palace, had filled
her with mislike and abhorrence as they looked upon the Queen. Again
and again in her fitful sleep had she dreamt of him, and a sense of
foreboding was heavy upon her--she seemed to hear the footfall of coming
disaster. The anxiety of her soul lent an unnatural brightness to her
eyes; so that more than one enamoured courtier made essay to engage her
in conversation, and paid her deferential compliment when the Queen's
eyes were not turned her way. Come to the dais, she was placed not far
from her Majesty, beside the Duke's Daughter, whose whimsical nature
found frequent expression in what the Queen was wont to call "a merry
volt." She seemed a privileged person, with whom none ventured to take
liberties, and against whom none was entitled to bear offence, for her
quips were free from malice, and her ingenuity in humour of mark. She it
was who had put into the Queen's head that morning an idea which was
presently to startle Angele and all others.

Leicester was riding with the Knights Tilters, and as they cantered
lightly past the dais, trailing their spears in obeisance, Elizabeth
engaged herself in talk with Cecil, who was standing near, and appeared
not to see the favourite. This was the first time since he had mounted
to good fortune that she had not thrown him a favour to pick up with his