I have to care for his safety

In all these capacities, Mary was, of all women on the earth, most alert at perceiving and using the advantages which her charms gave her over almost all who came within the sphere of their influence. She cast on Roland a glance which might have melted a heart of stone. “My poor boy,” she said, with a feeling partly real, partly politic, “thou art a stranger to us — sent to this doleful captivity from the society of some tender mother, or sister, or maiden, with whom you had freedom to tread a gay measure round the Maypole. I grieve for you; but you are the only male in my limited household — wilt thou obey my orders?” “To the death, madam,” said Graeme, in a determined tone. “Then keep the door of mine apartment,” said the Queen; “keep it till they offer actual violence, or till we shall be fitly arrayed to receive these intrusive visiters.” “I will defend it till they pass over my body,” said Roland Graeme; any hesitation which he had felt concerning the line of conduct he ought to pursue being completely swept away by the impulse of the moment. “Not so, my good youth,” answered Mary; “not so, I command. If I have one faithful subject beside me, much need, God wot, I have to care for his safety. Resist them but till they are put to the shame of using actual violence, and then give way, I charge you. Remember my commands.” And, with a smile expressive at once of favour and of authority, she turned from him, and, followed by her attendants, entered the bedroom. The youngest paused for half a second ere she followed her companion, and made a signal to Roland Graeme with her hand. He had been already long aware that this was Catherine Seyton — a circumstance which could not much surprise a youth of quick intellects, who recollected the sort of mysterious discourse which had passed betwixt the two matrons at the deserted nunnery, and on which his meeting with Catherine in this place seemed to cast so much light.