“Hush, maiden—speak within compass, I pray you,” said the Prince, rising up; “our conference ends here.”
“Yet one word, my Lord Duke of Rothsay,” said Catharine, with animation, while her beautiful countenance resembled that of an admonitory angel. “I cannot tell what impels me to speak thus boldly; but the fire burns within me, and will break out. Leave this castle without an hour’s delay; the air is unwholesome for you. Dismiss this Ramorny before the day is ten minutes older; his company is most dangerous.”
“What reason have you for saying this?”
“None in especial,” answered Catharine, abashed at her own eagerness—“none, perhaps, excepting my fears for your safety.”
“To vague fears the heir of Bruce must not listen. What, ho! who waits without?”
Ramorny entered, and bowed low to the Duke and to the maiden, whom, perhaps, he considered as likely to be preferred to the post of favourite sultana, and therefore entitled to a courteous obeisance.
“Ramorny,” said the Prince, “is there in the household any female of reputation who is fit to wait on this young woman till we can send her where she may desire to go?”
“I fear,” replied Ramorny, “if it displease not your Highness to hear the truth, your household is indifferently provided in that way; and that, to speak the very verity, the glee maiden is the most decorous amongst us.”
“Let her wait upon this young person, then, since better may not be. And take patience, maiden, for a few hours.”
Catharine retired.