'Can the caged lark sing? Can those whose "tears have been their meat day and night" sing? Can the broken heart burst forth into singing? Can the mourner sing for joy and gladness? This poor young lady,' he turned to me, laying a kind, fatherly hand upon my shoulder, 'this poor young lady has lost her best friend on the scaffold, and her lover, a lad of twenty-one, lies in the Tower under sentence of death. These things have bleached her hair and taken the colour from her face; moreover, as we have just discovered, they have robbed her of her voice.' 'Is this true?' The queen's deep voice asked the question of me, but the effort of trying to answer it, of attempting to express some of the words of pleading for my lover and of beseeching for his life, was more than I could bear, and I fell down unconscious at Queen Mary's feet. * * * * * When I came to myself, the queen was holding a cup to my lips, and calling upon me at the same time to wake up and hear some joyful news. I opened my eyes and looked into her face incredulously. What joyful news could there be for me, who had parted company with joy long since? Sorrow I knew, and pain and disappointment, but not joy. It was so long since joy had visited me that I could scarcely believe in its possibility. 'Come! Come! Try to rouse yourself,' said Dr. Massingbird. 'Her Majesty is going to be very good to you.' Then my lips moved. 'No,' I said, 'do not deceive me. I could not even sing to her. I lost the opportunity which you were so good as to get for me,' and I sighed heavily, having hoped so much from it. Then Mary spoke. 'Meg Brown,' she said, and the old assumed name startled me, 'I am going to give your lover, Sir Hubert Blair, a free pardon----' 'What,' I interrupted, turning excitedly to the physician, 'what is her Majesty saying? _I cannot understand, I cannot understand!_' and I put my hand to my head. The physician explained that the queen was about to pardon my beloved. 'Yes, that I am,' said Mary, quite good-naturedly. 'The rascal does not deserve it. But I do it for your sake, because I think you have suffered quite enough.' 'And I have not even pleaded for him!' I said to myself, and must have spoken aloud, for the queen answered-- 'Your white hair and your sorrowful face, together with your good friend's words, have pleaded for your lover more eloquently than any singing could have done.' Then, gazing at me, she added-- 'Take her away, Dr. Massingbird; she is looking very ill. I will make out the proper papers and send them to Sir Thomas Brydges, who will do the rest. 'Margaret'--she spoke to me--'what you need now, to restore you to health, are happiness and country air. You must let Sir Hubert Blair take you home to your father's house near Brighthelmstone. (These last words disclosed the fact that Queen Mary knew who I was.) * * * * *