"And I--" gasped Anna.
"Thou art a captive for life in this island castle!"
Anna would have fallen backwards had Konrad not sprung to her assistance.
"Listen," he said, in a low voice. "If thou wouldst escape, an hour will set thee free."
"Yes, land me once in Scotland, and I will make my way to Bothwell."
That night Anna was on a Norwegian vessel bound for Glasgow, and Konrad was with her. She could not, he knew, be his bride, but he could at least protect and cherish her, and strive to redress the wrongs she had suffered.
A storm was gathering above the lovely valley of the Clyde one June evening as two strangers--a man and a woman--plodded wearily towards Bothwell Castle. The woman became wholly exhausted; the man laid her gently down in shelter among the ruins of Blantyre Priory, and went on his errand alone. The storm had now burst, and the river was rising rapidly; but Konrad--for it was he--plunged into the raging waters, and strove to swim across. The current was too strong for him; he clung to an ash tree that projected over the stream, and was nearly exhausted when a man on the bank flung down his mantle and poniard, plunged in, and dragged him to the shore.
Konrad, almost senseless, was carried within the castle. When he had revived and was dressed in dry garments, he was brought before his rescuer--it was Bothwell himself.
"I thank thee," said Konrad proudly, "for saving my life."
"Thou didst save mine. We are now equal," replied the earl.