The Lady of Lochleven stood astonished at his sudden escape—“Am I surrounded,” she said, “by traitors? Upon him, villains!—pursue, stab, cut him down.”
“He cannot leave the island, madam,” said Dryfesdale, interfering; “I have the key of the boat-chain.”
But two or three voices of those who pursued from curiosity, or command of their mistress, exclaimed from below, that he had cast himself into the lake.
“Brave Douglas still!” exclaimed the Queen—“Oh, true and noble heart, that prefers death to imprisonment!”
“Fire upon him!” said the Lady of Lochleven; “if there be here a true servant of his father, let him shoot the runagate dead, and let the lake cover our shame!”
The report of a gun or two was heard, but they were probably shot rather to obey the Lady, than with any purpose of hitting the mark; and Randal immediately entering, said that Master George had been taken up by a boat from the castle, which lay at a little distance.
“Man a barge, and pursue them!” said the Lady.
“It were quite vain,” said Randal; “by this time they are half way to shore, and a cloud has come over the moon.”
“And has the traitor then escaped?” said the Lady, pressing her hands against her forehead with a gesture of despair; “the honour of our house is for ever gone, and all will be deemed accomplices in this base treachery.”
“Lady of Lochleven,” said Mary, advancing towards her, “you have this night cut off my fairest hopes—You have turned my expected freedom into bondage, and dashed away the cup of joy in the very instant I was advancing it to my lips—and yet I feel for your sorrow the pity that you deny to mine—Gladly would I comfort you if I might; but as I may not, I would at least part from you in charity.”