"Oh, then, sister," subjoined Marion, "I suppose you have a knight at hand who would delight in such handiwork; for is not Sir Patrick Hume of Wedderburn reputed to be the most valorous knight upon the Borders, and withal the humble worshipper of fair Margaret Sinclair of Polwarth?"
And as the maiden spoke, she laughed, and tapped her sister good-naturedly upon the cheek. Margaret blushed, and playfully replied, "Well, sister, is there no valorous knight at Wedderburn but Sir Patrick? What think ye of George Hume?"
"No more of this," cried Marion; "let us accept our uncle's invitation, and mingle with the gay company he has invited to meet us."
"If you will have it so, let it be so," replied Margaret; "but, trust me, I fear that good will not come of it."
On the following day they set out upon their journey towards Herdmanstone, accompanied by only two men-servants. The uncle received them with a show of cordial friendship; but the guests whom they expected to meet they saw not; and they had been but a few minutes beneath his roof, when they found themselves prisoners, secured by gratings, bolts, and bars. On discovering the situation into which they had been entrapped, Marion wept aloud, and accused herself of being the unwitting author of her sister's captivity.
"Fear not," said Margaret. "Our uncle is a stern man, he is a man of blood; but there are as strong hands as his, that will be raised to deliver the sisters of Kimmerghame and Polwarth, when their captivity becomes known."
"But how will it be known?" asked Marion; "for who knows that we are here?"
"Let us trust in him who is the orphan's father," replied her sister, "and leave all to his good providence."
"Amen!" said the other; but she sobbed bitterly as she spoke.
On the second day of their imprisonment, their uncle entered the apartment where they were confined.