She was the first to speak.

She leaned forward and placing her hands upon mine, whispered my name:-- "Malcolm!" After a brief silence I said:-- "What would you, your Majesty ?" "Not 'your Majesty'" said Mary, softly, "but Mary, as of old." She remained for a moment with her hand upon my knee, and then whispered:-- "Will you not sit by me, Malcolm ?" I believe that Mary Stuart's voice was the charm wherewith she fascinated men.

I resisted to my utmost strength, but that seemed to be little more than utter weakness; so I took a seat by her side, and she gently placed her hand in mine.

The warm touch of her strong, delicate fingers gave me a familiar thrill.

She asked me to tell her of my wanderings since I had left Scotland, and I briefly related all my adventures.