that she will undo the door

“Yet, at least,” said Melville, “let me try fair means in the first instance. Violence to a lady would stain your scutcheon for ever. Or await till my Lord Ruthven comes.” “I will await no longer,” said Lindesay; “it is high time the business were done, and we on our return to the council. But thou mayest try thy fair play, as thou callest it, while I cause my train to prepare the petard. I came hither provided with as good gunpowder as blew up the Kirk of Field.” “For God’s sake, be patient,” said Melville; and, approaching the door, he said, as speaking to those within, “Let the Queen know, that I, her faithful servant, Robert Melville, do entreat her, for her own sake, and to prevent worse consequences, that she will undo the door, and admit Lord Lindesay, who brings a mission from the Council of State.” “I will do your errand to the Queen,” said the page, “and report to you her answer.” He went to the door of the bedchamber, and tapping against it gently, it was opened by the elderly lady, to whom he communicated his errand, and returned with directions from the Queen to admit Sir Robert Melville and Lord Lindesay. Roland Graeme returned to the vestibule, and opened the door accordingly, into which the Lord Lindesay strode, with the air of a soldier who has fought his way into a conquered fortress; while Melville, deeply dejected, followed him more slowly. “I draw you to witness, and to record,” said the page to this last, “that, save for the especial commands of the Queen, I would have made good the entrance, with my best strength, and my best blood, against all Scotland.” “Be silent, young man,” said Melville, in a tone of grave rebuke; “add not brands to fire — this is no time to make a flourish of thy boyish chivalry.” “She has not appeared even yet,” said Lindesay, who had now reached the midst of the parlour or audience-room; “how call you this trifling?” “Patience, my lord,” replied Sir Robert, “time presses not — and Lord Ruthven hath not as yet descended.”