“I tell thee again that it is useless to talk of it, lady,” replied the youth. “I have already told thee that I pity thee, but it were more than my life were worth to do as thou wouldst have me. And what is gold, I pray thee, compared to such a risk?”
“Methinks that, once out amidst these wide hills and forests, the risk would be but small indeed,” said Catherine.
“That is all true,” replied the youth. “The hills and forests are wide; but the men of the band well know every nook and turn of them. Nay, they are every where, and come pop upon one at the very time when they are least looked for. Holy Virgin, an’ we were to meet any of them as we fled!—My head sits uneasily on my neck at the very thought!—By the Rood, but there would be a speedy divorce between them! and where would your gold be then, lady?”
“Then let me go try to explore mine own way without thee,” said the Lady Catherine.
“Talk not of it, lady,” replied the youth, impatiently. “My head would go for it, I tell thee.—It would go the moment they should return and find that thou hadst escaped. They may be already near at hand, too, if I mistake not the time of evening. Therefore, teaze me no more, I pray thee.”
“Spirits of mine ancestors, give me strength and boldness!” cried the Lady Catherine, starting up energetically, after a moment’s pause, during which she seemed to have taken her resolution, and assuming a commanding attitude and air as she spoke.—“Let me pass, young man!—give me way, I say!—or I will struggle with thee to the death, but I will force a passage!”
“I have a sharp argument against that,” said the youth, drawing his dirk, and planting himself in the gap before her.—“Stand back!—or thou shalt have every inch of its blade.”
“Out of the way, vermin!” cried Patrick Stewart, no longer able to contain his rage, and dashing down the youth before him as he entered.
“Patrick!—my dear Patrick!” cried the Lady Catherine, flying into his arms with a scream of joy.
“My dearest, dearest Catherine!” said Patrick, fondly—“this is indeed to be rewarded!—Wretch!” cried he, grappling the youth by the throat, and putting the point of his dirk to his breast, as he was in the act of rising from the ground, apparently with the intention of making his escape—“Wretch! our safety requires thy death.”