"Might I advise, my lord, it would be, that you should give her admission. It appears so strange to see a lovely and most courtly dame standing weeping at your gate. The very commonest of the people sympathise with her, and blame your neglect. Beshrew me, if any knight in the realm would refuse such a suit; no, not the King himself."
"Do you think, Sir John of Eveldon, that I can submit to be ruled by women and their agents? I, who never held them as ought save as beings formed for man's pleasures or his interests. My hands are free of their blood, Sir John,—my heart, if ever it was in bonds, is now emancipated; and yet, by their means, has my life of late been held in thraldom."
"Say that I may admit this dame, my lord."
"Well, be it so, and let us be quit of her. In the mean time, let the guards be tripled, and stand to your arms. I have had strange intelligence to-night; if true, there will be a dangerous commotion in less than an hour hence."
"The forces of the two kingdoms cannot disturb you here to-night, Lord Douglas."
"See to it,—there is treason within our walls. Who are on guard?"
"The Gordons, and Lindsay of Kinlossie's men."
"The Gordons I can trust,—let the others be changed without delay, Sir John, and see them consorted to the camp.—Call up the Douglasses of the Dales, and let them look to themselves. Admit that petitioner in whom you are so much interested, and call me on the slightest appearance of insubordination."
Sir John did as he was commanded, and forthwith introduced Mary Kirkmichael of Balmedie. The impatience and mortification that the Douglas manifested under this trial is not to be described, for he had promised to give her information of her royal mistress as soon as he had it in his power, and yet he neither had the heart nor the resolution, after the charges he had received of secrecy, to tell her of her mistress' woeful fate. At Mary's first entrance into his presence, she rushed forward and kneeled at his feet, crying, in the most passionate manner, "O, my dear lord, tell me what has become of my mistress. This suspense is dreadful. The castle is now in your hands, and all the prisoners, if such there were; but there are shocking insinuations whispered abroad. Her father and mother are on their way to visit you here; and what shall I say to them for the loss of my dear mistress? O, Lord Douglas, if you know of her, as know of her you must, tell me where I can see her. Dead or alive, let me but see her. Or tell me when I shall see her."
"Lady, that is more than I can tell you; but if it will give you any heart's ease, as certainly as I speak to you I saw her in this apartment to-night."