Unusual silence prevailed in the lofty hall of Hermitage, and the dinner hour, commonly one of mirth and festivity, arrived with a solemn gravity, by no means welcome to the light-hearted borderers. It was in vain that large joints of beef and mutton steamed on the long tables, and ample baskets, piled to the edge with coarse oaten bread, stood side by side with deep measures of foaming ale below the salt, while a modest display of plate, in which one or two church ornaments were conspicuous, decked the upper end of the board. The preparations, indeed, smacked of good cheer, but the hilarity which promotes digestion was wanting. The master-spirit, gloomy, morose, and preoccupied, walked to and fro under the stag’s antlers, at the extremity of the hall, and no man dared to question or interrupt his meditations. Bothwell was indeed chafing to the verge of madness. In vain he had submitted patiently to a mock imprisonment at the Queen’s pleasure; in vain he had waited till days grew to weeks and weeks to months for some acknowledgment from Mary of the injustice she had done him--some expression of sorrow or sympathy for the loyal soldier and devoted vassal. No acquittal came, no reprieve, no message. Desperate and goaded he had escaped from his confinement at last, and fled to Hermitage, where he now found himself, as autumn waned, in the anomalous attitude of an attainted subject holding a royal fortress, and a warden of the Marches, without the privilege of communicating with his sovereign. It has been truly said that no position is so false as that which entails responsibility without conferring authority, and of this he found himself too keenly conscious. Neither was Bothwell’s a nature to submit patiently to a slight. Hot-headed and irascible, with strong feelings and a sad want of foresight, he could act, but he could not endure. At this period he had indeed sufficient reason to feel aggrieved, and he fretted like some wild animal in a cage. It was noon; the guard was being relieved in the outer court. Bustle reigned in the kitchen; two or three old hounds, with wistful faces, licked their lips as they nosed the savoury preparations that emanated from that department; hawks screamed and flapped their wings on the perch; everything denoted the arrival of the most important hour in the twenty-four. By twos and threes brawny men-at-arms lounged into the hall and took their places at the board. A year ago, shout and jest and schoolboy prank would have been rife at such a moment; the earl’s laugh would have been the loudest and his voice the gayest amongst them all; now they watched him pacing silently to and fro, with looks askance. Taking their cue from their chief, the boisterous riders were gloomy as mutes. Bothwell turned suddenly and summoned his henchman.