"Is that then so much to make such a pother about? I will accomplish it in two days. So difficult to get a maid of her complexion to marry? Difficulty in fattening--a pig! baiting a hook for a bagrel!--a stickleback!--a perch! I'll do it in two days--in one day--in half a day, else never call me Mary Kirkmichael of Balmedie again. Difficulty in marrying a maid with light blue eyes--golden locks and rosy cheeks--with a languishing smile always on her countenance? and that maid an English one too? Peugh! Goodbye, my lady, Lady Black Douglas. I'm off. (Opening the door again.) It is a shame and a disgrace for any gentleman not to _die_ for his mistress! I say it is! Young Spinola would have died for me cheerfully if I would have suffered him,--that he would! Goodbye, madam." Mary was as busy all the remaining part of that day as ever was a bee in a meadow. She had private business with the Queen, and had art or interest enough to get two private audiences. She had business with the lady Jane Howard; a word to say to the King, and two or three to the lord Douglas--But it is a great loss that these important disclosures cannot be imparted here,--for every word that she told to each of them was a profound secret! Not a word of it ever to be repeated till death! What a loss for posterity! It had one quality, there was not a word of truth in all this important disclosure; but an ingenious lie by a woman is much more interesting than one of her true stories. There was, however, one of Mary Kirkmichael's secrets came to light, though none of those above-mentioned; and from the complexion of that, a good guess may be made at the matter of all the rest.