“It was a work of hell,” said the Lady Lochleven, “both the asking and the granting.—Away, wretched man, let us see if aid be yet too late!”
“They will not admit us, madam, save we enter by force—I have been. twice at the door, but can obtain no entrance.”
“We will beat it level with the ground, if needful—And, hold—summon Randal hither instantly.—Randal, here is a foul and evil chance befallen—send off a boat instantly to Kinross, the Chamberlain Luke Lundin is said to have skill—Fetch off, too, that foul witch Nicneven; she shall first counteract her own spell, and then be burned to ashes in the island of Saint Serf. Away, away—Tell them to hoist sail and ply oar, as ever they would have good of the Douglas's hand!”
“Mother Nicneven will not be lightly found, or fetched hither on these conditions,” answered Dryfesdale.
“Then grant her full assurance of safety—Look to it, for thine own life must answer for this lady's recovery.”
“I might have guessed that,” said Dryfesdale, sullenly; “but it is my comfort I have avenged mine own cause, as well as yours. She hath scoffed and scripped at me, and encouraged her saucy minion of a page to ridicule my stiff gait and slow speech. I felt it borne in upon me that I was to be avenged on them.”
“Go to the western turret,” said the Lady, “and remain there in ward until we see how this gear will terminate. I know thy resolved disposition—thou wilt not attempt escape.”
“Not were the walls of the turret of egg-shells, and the lake sheeted ice,” said Dryfesdale. “I am well taught, and strong in belief, that man does nought of himself; he is but the foam on the billow, which rises, bubbles, and bursts, not by its own effort, but by the mightier impulse of fate which urges him. Yet, Lady, if I may advise, amid this zeal for the life of the Jezebel of Scotland, forget not what is due to thine own honour, and keep the matter secret as you may.”
So saying, the gloomy fatalist turned from her, and stalked off with sullen composure to the place of confinement allotted to him.
His lady caught at his last hint, and only expressed her fear that the prisoner had partaken of some unwholesome food, and was dangerously ill. The castle was soon alarmed and in confusion. Randal was dispatched to the shore to fetch off Lundin, with such remedies as could counteract poison; and with farther instructions to bring mother Nicneven, if she could be found, with full power to pledge the Lady of Lochleven's word for her safety.