The Countess came in, white to the lips, bearing in her eyes
something of the horror she had beheld.

"What is it?" Mary asked her, her voice suddenly hushed and
faltering.

"Madame-he is dead! Murdered!" she announced.

The Queen looked at her, her face of marble. Then her voice came
hushed and tense:

"Are - you sure?"

"Myself I saw his body, madame."

There was a long pause. A low moan escaped the Queen, and her
lovely eyes were filled with tears; slowly these coursed down her
cheeks. Something compelling in her grief hushed every voice, and
the craven husband at her side shivered as her glance fell upon him
once more.

"And is it so?" she said at length, considering him. She dried her
eyes. "Then farewell tears; I must study revenge." She rose as if
with labour, and standing, clung a moment to the table's edge. A
moment she looked at Ruthven, who sat glooming there, dagger in one
hand and empty wine-cup in the other; then her glance passed on,
and came to rest balefully on Darnley's face. "You have had your
will, my lord," she said, "but consider well what I now say.
Consider and remember. I shall never rest until I give you as sore
a heart as I have presently."