He sprang up in his amazement and the shock of seeing her crouching before him with upturned white face, brought the color to his cheek.
“Lady Breadalbane!”
She clung to him in an eager agony of entreaty.
“Show this mercy now—by all ye ever held dear. I canna find words to entreat ye deep enough.”
“Lady Breadalbane, I must warn the Prince.”
“Ye know not what ye are doing!”
Down at his very feet now she pleaded; her white arms and her fallen hair hid her face as she knelt there, her voice faint with the intensity of her entreaties, as if she strove for her life—her soul.
He lifted her up, trembling a little, and put her on the seat; her hands touched his and he found them cold, her head brushed his shoulder for a moment and her face was close to his.
“Will ye—will ye?” she panted.
“No! no!”