Happily, she did not see their looks, she stood leaning against the wicket, her head bent. She looked up and began to plead again to see her husband.
“You may put me behind bolts and bars,” she said passionately, “I care not; indeed, I pray to be a prisoner too, since he is one. Ah, it is so little that I ask. What could I do? I could not break his chains—I could not set him free! I only pray—pray you,” she stretched out her hands in fervent supplication, “to let me share his prison! I cannot be free while he is here—I will not be free!”
The old soldier shook his head, he was deeply touched.
“I cannot, madam,” he replied; “but let me beg you to carry this petition to one who can and will surely hear you.”
“You mean the king?” said Mackie.
The officer inclined his head. “I know of no one in these three kingdoms so merciful,” he replied quietly.
“’Tis a wise thought,” said Sir Edward gently, as if he spoke to a child; “come, Lady Clancarty, let us carry our petition to his majesty.”
For the moment she had completely broken down. She wept and her sobs shook her from head to foot.
“I cannot leave him here,” she cried; “how dare you ask me?”
Young Mackie bowed his head; he, too, was shaken by her emotion.