"No, not cruel," answered Iola. "Could the dead see all the actions of the living, would the living dare to meet the dead? I have a hard and painful task to perform, and I must perform it. Yet, dear lady, I would do it with all gentleness, for I have to ask painful questions--questions which, if my heart tell me true, may raise anger and indignation, as well as cause pain and sorrow." "Speak then, speak then," said Mary, impatiently. "Let them be quickly over." "Well, then, as it must be so," said Iola, "let me first say, I know the early history well, the marriage of the princess Mary to the earl of Arran, her brother's subject and friend, the advantage which base enemies took of his absence in Denmark, in his sovereign's service, to ruin his father and his uncle, to seize his estates, forfeit his honours, and blast his name--a name on which the voice of calumny never breathed till then." Mary sank into a seat and covered her eyes with her hands; but Iola went on, seeming to hurry her words to get over her painful task with speed. "I know, too," she said, "the generous devotion of the princess, that she fled in disguise from her brother's court, to warn her husband of his danger, when he returned from his successful embassy, bringing with him his sovereign's royal bride; I know that she sought his fleet in a poor skiff, and fled with him into exile and poverty; I know that she only returned to her own land, after years of exile, on the delusive promise that her petition and submission would recover his estates and honours, for him she loved. Hitherto, all is clear; but, now comes the question--Lady, forgive me," she continued, taking Mary's hand, and kissing it; "but I must pain you." "Speak, dear child, speak," said the princess. "There is nought in my whole life, that I am not ready to tell here or anywhere." "Well, then," said Iola, with a sigh; "did the princess Mary, when her husband was doing his knightly devoir here on this English ground, in behalf of the house which had befriended him and his, did she consent to a divorce from her once-loved lord, and----" "Never, never, never!" cried the princess, starting from her seat, "never, by word or deed. What, has that dark tale come hither too? 'Twas done without my consent or knowledge; and, when done, I raised my voice and wrote my protest against it. They told me he was dead. They told me that he fell there, on Atherston moor--fell, as he lived, in noble deeds and gallant self-devotion." "And then, hearing of his death," said Iola, in a voice sunk to the lowest tone with emotion; "the princess married James, Lord Hamilton."