Summary

Bothwell; or, The Days of Mary Queen of Scots…

Rage and jealousy swelled the heart of Bolton. He panted rather than breathed; and though his long-desired hour of vengeance on them both had come, he too was paralysed, trembling, and irresolute. The Earl gave him a glance of uncertainty; but Bolton saw only Mariette. Conscience whispered "to pause," while there was yet time; but the bond had been signed, the stake laid, and to waver was to die!
For a moment a blindness fell upon his eyes, and a sickness on his heart; and the Earl said to Hepburn in a hollow accent—
"Thy poniard—thy poniard! Thou hast it! The king, the king!
Source: Gutenberg

Bothwell; or, The Days of Mary Queen of Scots…

Starting back a pace, the queen withdrew her hand; her brow crimsoned, and her flashing eyes were firmly bent on Bothwell.
"Lord Earl," she replied, in a voice that trembled between anger and dread, "what is this thou hast dared to do?"
"To love thee—is it a crime?"
"No, if it be such love as I may receive; but such is not thine, Lord Earl."
"Oh! visionary that I have been!" exclaimed the astonished noble, as he clasped his hands; "and to a dream have I given up my soul, my peace, my honour! Oh, madam!
Source: Gutenberg

Bothwell; or, The Days of Mary Queen of Scots…

Didst thou wish it, I would invade England to-morrow, and carry fire and sword even to the gates of York; for five hundred knights and ten thousand horsemen follow my banner."
"Je vous remercie!" exclaimed Mary, with irony, as she turned away—"I thank thee, Lord Earl; but ere I go to war with my good cousin Elizabeth, I must punish my rebels at home."
"Oh, madam! thou, to win whose love I have dared so much—thou, the object of my boyish dreams and manhood's bold ambition—towards whom I have ever been borne by an irresistible and inevitable tide—the sure, dark current of fatality—hear me?
Source: Gutenberg

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