And so we were until I, forgetting for the moment Elizabeth's hatred of Mary's friends, and hoping to learn the stranger's name and quality, said:-- "My name is Vernon--Sir Malcolm Vernon, knight by the hand of Queen Mary of Scotland and of France." This remark, of course, required that my companion should in return make known his name and degree; but in place of so doing he at once drew away from me and sat in silence.

I was older than he, and it had seemed to me quite proper and right that I should make the first advance.

But instantly after I had spoken I regretted my words.

I remembered not only my danger, being a Scottish refugee, but I also bethought me that I had betrayed myself.

Aside from those causes of uneasiness, the stranger's conduct was an insult which I was in duty bound not to overlook.