Chapter 36

He mounted himself on a coal-black steed,
And her on a freckled gray,
With a bugelet horn hung down from his side,
And roundly they rode away.
OLD BALLAD.

The influence of the free air, the rushing of the horses over high and
low, the ringing of the bridles, the excitation at once arising from a
sense of freedom and of rapid motion, gradually dispelled the confused
and dejected sort of stupefaction by which Queen Mary was at first
overwhelmed. She could not at last conceal the change of her feelings
to the person who rode at her rein, and who she doubted not was the
Father Ambrosius; for Seyton, with all the heady impetuosity of a
youth, proud, and justly so, of his first successful adventure,
assumed all the bustle and importance of commander of the little
party, which escorted, in the language of the time, the Fortune of
Scotland. He now led the van, now checked his bounding steed till the
rear had come up, exhorted the leaders to keep a steady, though rapid
pace, and commanded those who were hindmost of the party to use their
spurs, and allow no interval to take place in their line of march; and
anon he was beside the Queen, or her ladies, inquiring how they
brooked the hasty journey, and whether they had any commands for him.
But while Seyton thus busied himself in the general cause with some
advantage to the regular order of the march, and a good deal of
personal ostentation, the horseman who rode beside the Queen gave her
his full and undivided attention, as if he had been waiting upon some
superior being. When the road was rugged and dangerous, he abandoned
almost entirely the care of his own horse, and kept his hand
constantly upon the Queen's bridle; if a river or larger brook
traversed their course, his left arm retained her in the saddle, while
his right held her palfrey's rein.

"I had not thought, reverend Father," said the Queen, when they
reached the other bank, "that the convent bred such good
horsemen."--The person she addressed sighed, but made no other
answer.--"I know not how it is," said Queen Mary, "but either the
sense of freedom, or the pleasure of my favourite exercise, from which
I have been so long debarred, or both combined, seem to have given
wings to me--no fish ever shot through the water, no bird through the
air, with the hurried feeling of liberty and rapture with which I
sweep through, this night-wind, and over these wolds. Nay, such is the
magic of feeling myself once more in the saddle, that I could almost
swear I am at this moment mounted on my own favourite Rosabelle, who
was never matched in Scotland for swiftness, for ease of motion, and
for sureness of foot."

"And if the horse which