to be done in favour of their country

“My lord,” replied the Queen, reddening, “my nerves are too good to be alarmed even by this terrible history — May I ask how a blade so illustrious passed from the House of Douglas to that of Lindesay?— Methinks it should have been preserved as a consecrated relic, by a family who have held all that they could do against their king, to be done in favour of their country.” “Nay, madam,” said Melville, anxiously interfering, “ask not that question of Lord Lindesay — And you, my lord, for shame — for decency — forbear to reply to it.” “It is time that this lady should hear the truth,” replied Lindesay. “And be assured,” said the Queen, “that she will be moved to anger by none that you can tell her, my lord. There are cases in which just scorn has always the mastery over just anger.” “Then know,” said Lindesay, “that upon the field of Carberry-hill, when that false and infamous traitor and murderer, James, sometime Earl of Bothwell, and nicknamed Duke of Orkney, offered to do personal battle with any of the associated nobles who came to drag him to justice, I accepted his challenge, and was by the noble Earl of Morton gifted with his good sword that I might therewith fight it out — Ah! so help me Heaven, had his presumption been one grain more, or his cowardice one grain less, I should have done such work with this good steel on his traitorous corpse, that the hounds and carrion-crows should have found their morsels daintily carved to their use !” The Queen’s courage well-nigh gave way at the mention of Bothwell’s name — a name connected with such a train of guilt, shame, and disaster. But the prolonged boast of Lindesay gave her time to rally herself, and to answer with an appearance of cold contempt —“