Early on the following day, Mary arrived at the Tower. She came by water, and was received at the landing-place by Sir Henry Bedingfeld, who conducted her with much ceremony to the palace, where a sumptuous banquet was prepared, at which the knight assisted as chief sewer, presenting each dish to the queen on his bended knee, and placing a silver ewer filled with rosewater, and a napkin, before her between the courses. Mary looked grave and thoughtful, nor could the liveliest sallies of De Noailles, who was one of the guests, call a smile to her lips. Renard, also, was present, and looked more gloomy than usual. The banquet ended, Sir Henry Bedingfeld approached, and laid a parchment before the queen. “What is this, sir?” she demanded. “The warrant for the burning of Edward Underhill, the miscreant who attempted your highness’s life,” replied Bedingfeld. “How!—burned! and I had pardoned him,” exclaimed Mary. “He has been delivered over by the council to the ecclesiastical authorities, and such is the sentence pronounced against him,” returned the knight. Mary sighed, and attached her signature to the scroll. “The hour of execution, and the place?” demanded Bedingfeld. “To-morrow at midnight, on the Tower-green,” replied Mary. Soon after this, it being intimated to the queen that all was in readiness at the Lion’s Tower, she arose and proceeded thither, attended by a large retinue of nobles and dames. On the way a momentary interruption occurred, and Simon Renard, who walked a few paces behind her, stepped forward, and whispered in her ear, “I beseech your highness to remain to-night in the Tower. I have somewhat of importance to communicate to you, which can be more safely revealed here than elsewhere.” Mary bowed assent, and the train set forward. A large assemblage was collected within the area in front of the Lions’ Tower, but a passage was kept dear for the royal party by two lines of halberdiers drawn up on either side. Og and Magog were stationed at the entrance, and reverentially doffed their caps as she passed. Mary graciously acknowledged the salute, and inquired from the elder giant what had become of his diminutive companion. “He is within, an’ please your majesty,” replied Og, “waiting to signalize himself by a combat with a bear.” “Indeed!” rejoined Mary smiling. “It is a hardy enterprise for so small a champion. However, large souls oft inhabit little bodies.” “Your highness says rightly,” observed Og. “But your illustrious father, to whom I have the honour to be indirectly related,” and he inclined his person, “was wont to observe that he had rather have a large frame and small wit, than much wit and a puny person.” “My father loved to look upon a man,” replied Mary, “and better specimens of the race than thee and thy brethren he could not well meet with.”