"You can afford to be so, Florence; one of courage so approved, and in a close helmet——"
"Ah," said he smiling, "you fear that my face may have a ghastly scar, like my Lord Kilmaurs'! But I can guard my head better than he. As the doughty Douglas said to the King of France, 'I can aye gar my hands keep my face.'"
"What would you feel, Florence, were I laid before you, mutilated—mangled—dead?"
"Ah, why a thought so horrible!" he exclaimed, impressed by her strange manner.
"That you may imagine what I shall feel, if such should be your fate."
"For Heaven's love, Madeline, let us talk of other things."
The moon was rising from the glittering sea, when Florence, with a sigh, drew the bridle of his horse, a mile eastward of Carberry; for now they were close to the barony of Claude Hamilton, and to have proceeded further with the young countess would have been alike unwary and unwise.
"So here we part, dear Madeline!" said he sadly.
"And part, we know not when to meet again."
"Nay, I cannot leave you without knowing when that joy again awaits me. I must have promises, for they are better than hope."