At that moment three distinct knocks were heard against the almery. Lilian started and turned pale.
"Yes, yes," said Beatrix scornfully, addressing the knocker; "you are impatient. There was a time—but it matters not—I bide mine; and my long delayed vengeance will wither thee up, false lord, even as if the lightning of God had scorched thy perjured soul."
Low as this was uttered, it reached the ears of Lilian; she became doubly terrified, and a momentary feeling of utter abandonment made her cover her face with her hands and weep bitterly. But, suddenly starting up, she said with energy—
"I will go hence, madam; and whatever be the danger, I will risk it. But the snow, the darkness, and the distance—oh, horror!—Aunt Grisel—gossip Annie—what will they think of this?—what will become of me?"
"Stand," said Beatrix, interposing. "Are you mad, to think of leaving this roof in the middle of a winter night? Remember the dreary lea of Clermiston, the rocks and the frozen marshes of Corstorphine, you are fey, maiden, to think it."
"Begone, thou ill woman," replied Lilian contemptuously; "I will go, and I dare thee to stay me."
"Then," rejoined Beatrix spitefully, "remember the barred windows, the bolted gates, and the good stone walls. Pooh, maiden, take tent and bide where ye are; for I swear ye can never go from hence, but at the pleasure of my lord."
"Insolent! Know ye who I am?" asked Lilian.
"The young lady of Bruntisfield," answered Beatrix coldly; "a wayward lass with a braw tocher, it seemeth,—one who prefers a younger cap and feather than my lord. Ha! hath he not sworn—(and mark me, maiden, he never swears in vain!)—that he will compel thee yet to beg his love at his hand as a boon, even as humbly as he now sues thine."
"In sooth!" retorted Lilian, with angry surprise. "He will surely have the aid of some such witch as thee to work so modern a miracle."