“Troth, she shall soon see her,” said Duncan, opening the door of the place—“Ho, ho, ho! there she doth lie, I do well wot, like a mockell great grey swine.”
There indeed, in an area not four feet square, was squeezed together the body of the Franciscan. He had a considerable cut and bruise upon his tonsure, from which the blood still oozed profusely. He seemed to be insensible; but he was no sooner lifted into the open air, than it appeared that his swoon was more owing to the closeness of the hole he had been crammed into than the wound he had received. He quickly began to recover and Sir Patrick raised him up and assisted him to stand.
“To thee, then, I am indebted for thy villainous traiterie?” cried the Franciscan, looking wildly at Sir Patrick, and shaking himself free from his arms as he said so. “Oh, shame to knighthood, thus to plant an assassin in my path; but rivers of thy blood shall speedily flow for every drop that doth fall from this head of mine.”
With these words he darted into the Castle ere Sir Patrick could speak, leaving him stupified by this unfortunate mistake, which had brought a fresh cause of shameful suspicion upon him.
“May she leave her posts noo!” demanded Duncan MacErchar with great coolness.
“Leave thy post!” cried Hepborne in a frenzy; “would thou hadst been in purgatory, knave, rather than that thou hadst wrought me this evil.”
“Oh, hoit-toit!” cried Duncan. “Spurgumstory! Uve, uve! and tat’s from Sir Patricks!”
“Forgive me, Duncan,” cried Hepborne, immediately recovering his self-command, and remembering whom it was he had so wounded, “forgive my haste. I do well know thy zeal. But here, by ill luck, thou hast fortuned to carry it farther than befitting. It will be but an evil report when it shall be told of Sir Patrick Hepborne that he did plant a partizan to assail and wound the friar with whom he had feud. But thou art forgiven, [[604]]my friend, for I do well know that thine intention was of the best.”
“Phoo-oo-o!” cried Duncan, with a prolonged sound, “troth, and she doth see that she hath missed her marks, fan she did hit the friars a clour. But troth, she will see yet and mend the friar’s head; and sith she doth ken that she hath a feud wi’ her, och, but she will mak her quiet wi’ the same plaisters that did the ills.”
“On thy life, touch him not again,” said Sir Patrick, “not as thou dost love me, Duncan. Let not the friar be touched, else thou dost make me thy foe for ever.”