Page:Mary Stuart (Drinkwater).djvu/71

 Bothwell: Not of our minute—not of that, I say.

Mary: No, then, not of that.


 * ( again takes her in his arms, she giving herself passionately. After a moment they part, as  voice is heard)

Beaton (calling from without): Madam—Madam.

Mary: Yes, what is it?

Beaton: Madam.

Mary: Yes, yes—come in.

Beaton (entering): Madam, the King is crossing the yard—he may be coming here.

Mary (to ): You must go.

Bothwell: Why should we slink about for any king?

Mary: No—you must. There are confusions enough. (She looks out from the window.) Yes, he is coming. Go through the close—quickly. At midnight, remember.


 * ( kisses her hand and goes)

Beaton: You play very dangerously, Madam.

Mary: Beaton, love should be lucky for you.