"If in my power," said he, "thy boon is granted."
"I seek the pardon of my poor penitent," replied St. Bernard, clasping his hands: "I seek the pardon of Lady Jane Seton."
The cardinal started.
"Impossible!" he replied, "for the life of this woman is not in my hands."
"But it is in the hands of the king; and being so, is, I may say, also in thine, my lord. Thou alone canst save her, for, selfish in his grief, our good king has abandoned everything to his ministers."
"Forgiveness for her—a Seton—the daughter of a Douglas, and the grandchild of old Greysteel! Friar, thou ravest! the thing is not to be thought of; besides, from all my lord advocate has told me, she must have been deeply guilty."
"Oh, good my lord cardinal, dost thou, in the greatness of thy mind, conceive that such a crime as sorcery may be?"
"I do not—I believe too implicitly in the power of God to yield so much to that of his fallen angel; and I believe, that as Calvinism spreads in Scotland, so will this new terror of sorcery. I have not studied the trial, but shall do so to-night, and with care."
"A thousand grateful thanks."
"Immersed as I am among the affairs of this troublesome state (for its chancellorship costs me dear), and sworn as I am to extinguish by fire and sword the heresies of Calvin, which are spreading like a wildfire among our Scottish towns and glens, I can afford but little time for the consideration of minor matters, such as this trial. Thou art, indeed, an auld farrand buckie," added the cardinal, with a smile; "and well hast thou played thy cards; so rest assured, that if David Beaton can save thy penitent, with justice—she is saved."