“‘And a brother.’
“‘The bravest, the kindest, the most affectionate!’ said Lady Bothwell.
“‘Both these beloved relatives you lost by the fault of an unfortunate man,’ continued the stranger.
“‘By the crime of an unnatural, bloody-minded murderer,’ said the lady.
“‘I am answered,’ replied the old man, bowing, as if to withdraw.
“‘Stop, sir, I command you,’ said Lady Bothwell. ‘Who are you that, at such a place and time, come to recall these horrible recollections? I insist upon knowing.’
“‘I am one who intends Lady Bothwell no injury, but, on the contrary, to offer her the means of doing a deed of Christian charity, which the world would wonder at, and which Heaven would reward; but I find her in no temper for such a sacrifice as I was prepared to ask.’
“‘Speak out, sir; what is your meaning?’ said Lady Bothwell.
“‘The wretch that has wronged you so deeply,’ rejoined the stranger, ‘is now on his death-bed. His days have been days of misery, his nights have been sleepless hours of anguish—yet he cannot die without your forgiveness. His life has been an unremitting penance—yet he dares not part from his burden while your curses load his soul.’
“‘Tell him,’ said Lady Bothwell sternly, ‘to ask pardon of that Being whom he has so greatly offended, not of an erring mortal like himself. What could my forgiveness avail him?’