The physician went away, leaving me, as I at first thought, alone, but, in a little while, my eyes became accustomed to the dim light, and I saw that in some of the embrasures by the windows, men and women sat, or stood engaged in earnest conversation. A few of them appeared to be foreigners; from their dress I imagined they were Spaniards, and two or three of these were monks, the sight of whom there recalled to my mind Sir Hubert Blair's prediction in Woodleigh Castleyard, that if Mary reigned, the country would be plunged into Roman Catholicism and brought into alliance with Spain, upon which a door would be thrown open for the Inquisition, with all its horrors. At that moment I heard a girl, standing in a recess near, saying to a tall man, who from his dress and bearing seemed to be of noble birth-- 'The queen means well. She is cautious about beginning, but in time she will do all that she is bidden by the Holy Church. At present she is racked with indecision and gloomy forebodings----' 'But she has the iron will of her father, King Hal--you see him there in that portrait, painted by Holbein, over the chimneypiece. What a man that was!' exclaimed the other. The girl shrugged her shoulders. 'Mary has a very different creed from his, fortunately,' she said, 'and she hankers after Spain--all may yet be well for our Church!' I heard no more, for at that moment Dr. Massingbird, returning, accompanied by a lady of the bedchamber, desired me to go with her to Queen Mary, who had already retired for the night. 'I have done all I could for you,' added the physician, aside, in a low tone. 'I have brought you here. But you will have to get out again as you best can, for I cannot dance attendance upon you any longer.' I tried to thank him, and to say that I should be all right, but, not listening to me, he said-- 'I have announced you as a poor singer named Meg Brown! having clipped off a bit of your name. God grant you may come to no harm, my child!' Then he hurried away. I followed the lady to Queen Mary's bedchamber, walking silently after her into the splendidly furnished bedroom, where I had been before with Queen Jane. How it reminded me of her! But this was a very different woman lying upon the great bed, with its silk and gold counterpane. Mary was about forty years old--a little woman, slender and delicate in appearance. She did not in the least resemble her father, King Henry VIII. Her features were not bad, and her eyes were bright--so bright indeed that they frightened me when, all at once, I discovered them fixed upon my face. 'Who are you?' demanded the queen, in a voice which was thick and loud like a man's. I was still more alarmed, and felt at that moment as if those bright, piercing eyes were looking into the very depths of my heart. I knelt for one moment, but quickly rose from the ground, with a prayer in my heart that I might be forgiven bowing in the house of Rimmon and before the wrong queen.