"They dare not, sister, for the terror of our father's name is great; and through the dean, his wrath might reach even them," said Euphemia.
"And in three days at furthest, this terrible dean will be here, with his stern brow and cunning cold grey eye. Oh! Effie, would not the young prince find us a messenger?"
"Nay, he has not a friend himself on whom he can rely. Young Lindesay, his dearest gossip and companion, fought against him in the king's ranks; and moreover, Rothesay seems as crushed in heart and broken in spirit as ourselves, for strange whispers are abroad anent our poor king's life and some old prophecy; and these rumours sorely wound the prince's happiness and honour."
"I believe thee, sister. Then hedged in, watched, begirt, and attended as we are, how can we communicate?" asked Sybilla; "Heaven only knows!" she added, lowering her head on her sister's breast, and giving way to tears again: "Poor David Falconer—so sad, so gentle! so full of kind and affectionate thoughts!—perhaps I shall never see him more!"
"Come, sister Sybie," said Euphemia, "take an example from me. Do I weep like a child, as little Beatrix would do? No, no; I gather courage as the storm darkens. Barton——"
"Barton is rich; he possesses this lordly house and that noble barony on the Almond. He is very rich, dear Effie, so I do not pity him as I do David Falconer, who is poor, and hath nothing but what his sword wins."
"And, Heaven knows, it would win him more in any land than here in Scotland; for there are over many false traitors and hypocrites, envious detractors and jealous lords among us, for truth, honour, or patriotism to be justly appreciated; and so will it ever be."
"I long so much once more to speak with David!" said Sybilla; "to lay my cheek where it has never lain—on his kind breast, and tell him—tell him all the horror we endured, dear sister, on that last awful day at Dundee."
"True," said Euphemia, as her hazel eyes flashed fire, and she shook the pearl pendants in her velvet cap; "and that day of crime broke all truce for ever between our father's friends and us; and so, this letter——"
"Would it were away—or that I were a pigeon, and could fly with it under my wing."