"Our hostess
grows complaisant," she said, "my Fleming; we had not thought that
grief and captivity had left us so well stored with that sort of
wealth which ladies prize most dearly."
"Your Grace will drive this severe woman frantic," said Fleming, in a
low tone. "On my knees I implore you to remember she is already
dreadfully offended, and that we are in her power."
"I will not spare her, Fleming," answered the Queen; "it is against my
nature. She returned my honest sympathy with insult and abuse, and I
will gall her in return,--if her words are too blunt for answer, let
her use her poniard if she dare!"
"The Lady Lochleven," said the Lady Fleming aloud, "would surely do
well now to withdraw, and to leave her Grace to repose."
"Ay," replied the Lady, "or to leave her Grace, and her Grace's
minions, to think what silly fly they may next wrap their meshes
about. My eldest son is a widower--were he not more worthy the
flattering hopes with which you have seduced his brother?--True, the
yoke of marriage has been already thrice fitted on--but the church of
Rome calls it a sacrament, and its votaries may deem it one in which
they cannot too often participate."
"And the votaries of the church of Geneva," replied Mary, colouring
with indignation, "as they deem marriage _no_ sacrament, are said
at times to dispense with the holy ceremony."--Then, as if afraid of
the consequences of this home allusion to the errors of Lady
Lochleven's early life, the Queen added, "Come, my Fleming, we grace
her too much by this altercation; we will to our sleeping apartment.
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