“What says the prisoner himself to this?” observed the king. “Didst thou send Fenwolf on the errand?”
“I did,” replied Tristram. “I sent him to prevent her from going to the castle.”
Mabel sobbed audibly.
“Thou art condemned by thy own confession, caitiff,” said the king, “and thou knowest upon what terms alone thou canst save thyself from the hangman, and thy grand-daughter from the stake.”
“Oh, mercy, sire, mercy!” shrieked Mabel.
“Your fate rests with your grandsire,” said the king sternly. “If he chooses to be your executioner he will remain silent.”
“Oh, speak, grandsire, speak!” cried Mabel. “What matters the violation of an unholy vow?”
“Give me till to-morrow for consideration, sire,” said the old man.
“Thou shalt have till midnight,” replied the king; “and till then Mabel shall remain with thee.”
“I would rather be left alone,” said Tristram.