‘The mist is gathering ghostly and chill, Mary Hamilton. And the weary maid cometh down from the hill, Mary Hamilton. The weary maid but she’s home at last, And she trieth the door, but the door is fast, For the sun is down and the curfew past, Mary Hamilton. ‘Too late for the rose the evening rain, Mary Hamilton. Too late for the lamb the shepherd’s pain, Mary Hamilton. Too late at the door the maiden’s stroke, Too late for the plea when the doom hath been spoke, Too late the balm when the heart is broke, Mary Hamilton.’ She heard it every word, and for a time her composure gave way. A burst of passionate weeping relieved her, and, drying her eyes, she unlocked the door and entered the dungeon. The light she carried streamed on Chastelâr’s figure, dressed in the very clothes in which she had seen him taken. He was half-sitting, half-lying, in the extreme corner where the stone was dryest, and took no notice of her entrance, thinking it was the jailer, but continued to hum the air he had just been singing. When he lifted his eyes, however, and recognised his visitor, he rose at once, with his habitual courtesy, and bade her welcome to his habitation, laughing pleasantly the while. ‘You find me poorly lodged, Mistress Hamilton,’ said the poet; ‘and although I live in a castle I am but scantily provided with room. It is not for long, however, as to-morrow morning, I am informed, they mean to remove me to a narrower chamber still.’ She could not bear to see him thus; again the warm tears filled her eyes as she gasped-- ‘The doom has gone forth; I heard of it to-day; there is but one chance left.’ He smiled a sweet sad smile. ‘I have done with chances now,’ said he; ‘I set my all on one cast, and I do not complain that the luck has gone against me. It was kind of you to come and visit me, Mary’--he dwelt fondly on the name and repeated it more than once--‘I was thinking of you even when you appeared. I was wishing I could see you once more. What of the Queen?’ he added, with an eager glance. ‘Is she here at St Andrews?’ ‘She sent me to you this very night,’ replied the other. ‘What I do is by her command, and according to her directions. You shall not die, Chastelâr; she bade me save you, and we have the means; only be obedient, and, above all, keep silent.’