‘Nay!’ exclaimed the Reformer; ‘the labourer is worthy of his hire; know ye not that the great trial is approaching between the powers of darkness and the children of light? In France, the sovereign and his ministers are determined to stifle the good cause with the strong hand, and even now the blood of saints and martyrs crieth aloud from the very stones in the streets of Paris. The scarlet woman who spreadeth her mantle over the Seven Hills, and waveth her white arms abroad to lure souls to perdition, seducing some with indulgences and driving others to despair with her curse, is battling for her very existence, and that of the reptiles she hath spawned, and who crawl around her feet. Here in Scotland--ay, at Holyrood itself--hath not an image been erected unto Baal? and is not the idolatry of the mass raised weekly by Mary Stuart, whom men call Queen of Scotland, and who is herself a daughter of perdition?’ ‘Hold!’ exclaimed Bothwell, in a voice of thunder, and advancing a step towards the speaker, as though about to hurl him from the rampart. He restrained himself, however, with an obvious effort, and proceeded in a calmer voice, ‘It was not to malign his Queen that you sought an interview with the most devoted of her servants?’ Knox saw his zeal had carried him too far. The Reformer, like those whose persuasion he reprobated, was somewhat prone to allow that ‘the end justified the means.’ He retraced his steps, therefore, as it were, and resumed more calmly-- ‘Her Majesty must be saved from the influence of evil advisers. Why are her communications with the bloody Guises so frequent? Why is Popish Riccio all-powerful at Holyrood? Why is Bothwell virtually banished, and well nigh attainted for a traitor? But because there is a schism in the camp of the faithful, and a house divided against itself shall not stand.’ ‘The Queen has, indeed, dealt me scant justice,’ answered the earl, musingly. ‘What would your employers have me do?’ ‘I speak for myself,’ replied the other, ‘or rather I speak the words that are borne in unto me by Him whose servant I am. What shall ye say of a family in which brother is at variance with brother? of an army in which troop falls away from troop, for some petty feud, when the enemy is drawn up over against them in battle array? The nobles of Scotland are gathering to the front for the defence of their souls’ liberties, and the boldest spirit amongst them all keeps aloof here at Hermitage because of a foolish brawl with a weak enthusiast who bore him no real ill-will.’ ‘I will never return to Holyrood,’ answered Bothwell, looking wistfully towards the north while he spoke, ‘till the Queen sends for me herself and acknowledges her injustice. I will never stretch the hand of reconciliation to Arran till I have dealt him a buffet with a steel gauntlet and a Jedwood axe in its grasp.’