‘’Twere a glorious gain to have barter’d all For the bonniest branch in the bower, And a man might well be content to fall In a leap for its queenliest flower! To win her, indeed, were too princely a meed, To serve her is guerdon enow, And the loveliest rose that in Scotland blows Hangs high on the topmost bough.’ Mary Stuart and Mary Hamilton looked at each other in amazement. The former laughed sweetly. ‘It is our minstrel come back again,’ said she, ‘and as welcome as he is unexpected. He has not forgotten the art in his absence from the inspiration.’ While she spoke she shifted the lamp from the writing table to the window shelf, where its flame was sheltered from the breeze by the unopened half of the casement. The maid-of-honour answered nothing; but the Queen could not help remarking she became very restless and preoccupied, accepting her dismissal for the night in silence, but with more alacrity than usual. Chastelâr in the garden saw the light shifted from its place in the Queen’s apartment, and interpreted it into an encouragement of his own wild hopes. His heart leaped, his brain glowed, his blood ran fire. Long absence, rational considerations, obvious impossibility, had not quenched his folly. He had left d’Amville, had wandered to and fro, had returned to Scotland with no definite object but to look on the face that haunted him night and day. He was love-mad; it mattered not what became of him: to live or die he cared not; but it must be at the Queen of Scotland’s feet. And Mary Hamilton, in her solitary chamber, fell on her knees and thanked Heaven that she should see him once again. CHAPTER XV. ‘Four-and-twenty nobles sit in the king’s ha’; Bonnie Glenlogie is the flower amang them a’; In cam’ Lady Jean, skipping on the floor, And she has chosen Glenlogie ’mang a’ that was there. ‘Glenlogie! Glenlogie! an’ you will prove kind, My love is laid on you; I’m telling you my mind: He turned about lightly, as the Gordons does a’-- I thank ye, Lady Jean, my love’s promised awa’.’