[*] See Life of Knox.
"Mother Mary!" exclaimed the Countess wildly, as she rose to her full height, and turned her eyes of fire upon the speaker; "have I fallen so low, that I have become the sport of ruffians such as you? Begone from my bower ere I die! Is this a place, Lord Earl, for thy cut-throats and swashbucklers to bully and swagger in?"
Black Ormiston uttered a loud laugh.
"Sweet Madam," began Hepburn—
"And thou, too, John of Bolton; begone, for an officious fool!"
"By St. Paul!" said the Earl angrily, "when thou insultest my friends thus, the atmosphere of the house must be too hot to suit me. Paris—ho! attend to thy mistress; and now, sirs, to horse and away, for by the honour of Hepburn, the rascally Norseman who hath brought all this mischief about, shall dree his reward ere the sun goes down."
As they descended to the castle-yard, a wild hyena-like cry came from the Countess's bower, but instead of pausing they hastened their steps.
Horribly it rang in the hollow of Bothwell's helmet, and by it he knew that what he had dreaded was now come to pass—
That his Countess was mad!
CHAPTER XXIII.