“Douglas! Douglas!” murmured Mary Stuart, “did I not tell you?”
“And I, madam,” said George, “what did I reply then? That it was an honour and a duty to every faithful subject of your Majesty to die for you.”
“Well, die, then!” cried William Douglas, springing on his brother with raised sword, while he, leaping back, drew his, and with a movement quick as thought and eager as hatred defended himself. But at the same moment Mary Stuart darted between the two young people.
“Not another step, Lord Douglas,” said she. “Sheathe your sword, George, or if you use it, let be to go hence, and against everyone but your brother. I still have need of your life; take care of it.”
“My life, like my arm and my honour, is at your service, madam, and from the moment you command it I shall preserve it for you.”
With these words, rushing to the door with a violence and resolve which prevented anyone’s stopping him—
“Back!” cried he to the domestics who were barring the passage; “make way for the young master of Douglas, or woe to you!”.
“Stop him!” cried William. “Seize him, dead or alive! Fire upon him! Kill him like a dog!”
Two or three soldiers, not daring to disobey William, pretended to pursue his brother. Then some gunshots were heard, and a voice crying that George Douglas had just thrown himself into the lake.
“And has he then escaped?” cried William.