"Your ladyship," said the old man, "had once a sister."
"True; whom I loved as my own soul."
"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.