File:Where ghosts walk - the haunts of familiar characters in history and literature (1898) (14783060165).jpg

Identifier: whereghostswalkh00harl (find matches)
Title: Where ghosts walk : the haunts of familiar characters in history and literature
Year: 1898 (1890s)
Authors: Harland, Marion, 1830-1922
Subjects:
Publisher: New York : G. P. Putnam
Contributing Library: University of California Libraries
Digitizing Sponsor: MSN

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a faded confusion of knights inarmour and plunging horses. The cano-pied bed, covered with a tattered silk cov-erlet, was also hers. Over the mantel is ahalf-length portrait of Queen Elizabeth.We hope—mercifully—that it was nothere in her hapless rivals time. The tapestry is looped away from thedoor of the supping-room, and from an-other and a smaller door close besideit, raised by a single step from the floor.This leads to the winding stone stair con-necting the Queens bedchamber withDarnleys. The little door is kept locked.Darnley had the key, and his alone wasthe right to use it on Saturday night, theninth of March, 1566, when Queen Maryhad bidden a few friends to supper. Howfew, we comprehend as we survey the tinywithdrawing-room. Her half-sister, theCountess of Argyle, two ladies-in-waiting,a couple of gentlemen of the Court, a pagewho held the candles, and her Italian Sec-retary, David Rizzio, must have crowdedthe closet to discomfort when the tableand chairs were in place.
Text Appearing After Image:
Two Little Rooms 5 When Darnley—otherwise King Henryand husband of the Queen, who, hke Saul,was higher than any of the people fromhis shoulders and upward,—stooped toclear the lintel of the low doorway, andshowed to the party his handsome face,flushed with wine, nobody was surprised.As he seated himself upon the elbow ofhis wifes chair, and put his arm about herwaist, the fairest face in all Scotland waslifted, smilingly expectant, to his. Thechange of position showed to Mary whatshe, at the first glance, mistook for theghost of Lord Ruthven, in full armour,filling up the door behind her. He hadarisen from a sick-bed to lead the con-spirators. We all know the story,—better perhapsthan any other in the records of a landwhose history is a continuous romance.Rizzio, torn from his frantic clingingto the skirts of his Royal employer,was dragged through the bedroom andthrough the larger audience-room beyond,there dispatched by fifty-six dagger-thrusts, then kicked, like a dead dog, 6

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