This must, however, be for another day.
Meanwhile, sir, let the Lady of Lochleven employ my page as she
lists--I will not afford suspicion by speaking a word to him before he
goes.--Roland Graeme, my friend, lose not an opportunity of amusing
thyself--dance, sing, run, and leap--all may be done merrily on the
mainland; but he must have more than quicksilver in his veins who
would frolic here."
"Alas! madam," said the preacher, "to what is it you exhort the youth,
while time passes, and eternity summons? Can our salvation be insured
by idle mirth, or our good work wrought out without fear and
trembling?"
"I cannot fear or tremble," replied the Queen; "to Mary Stewart such
emotions are unknown. But if weeping and sorrow on my part will atone
for the boy's enjoying an hour of boyish pleasure, be assured the
penance shall be duly paid."
"Nay, but, gracious lady," said the preacher, "in this you greatly
err;--our tears and our sorrows are all too little for our own faults
and follies, nor can we transfer them, as your church falsely teaches,
to the benefit of others."
"May I pray you, sir," answered the Queen, "with as little offence as
such a prayer may import, to transfer yourself elsewhere? We are sick
at heart, and may not now be disposed with farther controversy--and
thou, Roland, take this little purse;" (then, turning to the divine,
she said, showing its contents,) "Look, reverend sir,--it contains
only these two or three gold testoons, a coin which, though bearing my
own poor features, I have ever found more active against me than on my
side, just as my subjects take arms against me, with my own name for
their summons and signal.
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