Page:Mary Stuart (Drinkwater).djvu/72

 I think it will. But for me. . . He took me in his arms—a moment's fury—fire to slake fire, and that is all. That is my most of love. Why should I not be dangerous?

Beaton: Do you love my lord Bothwell?

Mary: A little of me—a moment. There is so much else to deny myself, after all. But he means so little more than the others. Still, a little—it is something.


 * ( comes in)

Darnley: Where has he gone?

Mary: Who?

Darnley: Who? The Italian.

Mary: He is in his room, I think.

Darnley: I saw him go down the far stair as I came in from the yard.

Mary: You are mistaken, I think. Beaton, will you see?


 * ( goes out)

Darnley: You know his movements well. But some one went down.

Mary: You are curious.

Darnley: Yes, Madam. I must watch these fellows.