Page:Mary Stuart (Drinkwater).djvu/28

 me? You talk nonsense. The moon has your wits; you're like the crazy singer out there. Mary Stuart can tell me nothing, I say. My God! What's that?


 * (A dress rustles outside on the terrace)

Boyd: What's the matter?
 * (He turns)

Hunter: There—look—Who is it?


 * ( stands on the terrace at the window. She is the Queen of the portrait)

Mary: Boy, I can tell you everything.


 * ( and and the portrait and the moonlit terrace pass into nothingness, and we see ' room in Holyrood on the evening of March the ninth, 1566.  is lying asleep on a couch, ' seated beside her, reading. After a few moments the queen moves uneasily, and in again a few moments she wakes.

Mary: Poor boy—poor boy. If he would but listen—but how strange. What a thing was that to dream! Out there—somewhere in