‘Letters may be intercepted, changed, forged, misunderstood. Master Maxwell, you will fulfil my bidding as I charge you, or leave it alone. I can trust you, I feel. I know you will do justice to the fair intentions of your mistress. I know you will not allow Bothwell to misunderstand my motives, or my feelings--Bothwell, who has always believed so implicitly in his Queen! Nay, for letters,’ added Mary, with her own sweet smile softening and brightening her whole countenance, ‘I will charge you, indeed, with this one for my Lady of Lennox, and with this token, always subject to his mother’s approval, to be given as an earnest of my good-will to her son. Take them carefully, Master Maxwell. Our warden’s strong hand will pass you safely through the thieves that infest the Border, and when you get among the southrons, I know you will guard them with your life. I pledge you, my trusty messenger, to the success of your mission!’ While she spoke, the Queen filled out a cup of wine and put her lips to the brim, handing him, at the same time, a packet carefully sealed and secured with a silken thread, which wound in and out through the folds of the missive, so that the silk must be cut before the letter could be opened. Also a small casket, containing a beautiful antique ring, representing a cupid burning himself with his own torch, as a keepsake for her future husband. The messenger received them on his knees in token of his fidelity and obedience, and the Queen, according to the custom of the age, bade him finish the cup of wine in which she had recently pledged him, and refresh himself ere he departed. ‘It must be a stirrup-cup, your Grace,’ said Maxwell, with a smile; ‘I shall hope to be out of sight of Holyrood ere the sun rises. Have I received all your Majesty’s directions?’ he added, preparing to take his leave. ‘There is no such hurry for a few minutes,’ replied Mary, graciously. ‘Do you sup with royalty every night, Master Maxwell, that you are in such haste to be gone?’ But Maxwell was enduring an amount of pain to which he would willingly put a period. To be in the same room with Mary Carmichael, nay, so close that her very dress touched him when she moved, and yet to feel, by her averted face, by his own offended and aching heart, that they were completely and irrevocably estranged, was a trial to which he had no wish to subject himself for a longer time than he could help. ‘I must crave your Grace’s license to depart,’ said he; and added, looking round with a forlorn hope that just this once he might meet the eyes that he had resolved should never gladden him again, ‘Have none of your ladies any commands for merrie England or the Border?’