"Madam," he pleaded, "be reasonable; you are at my mercy." "The King's mercy," I mocked. "What mean those words?" "You don't seem to understand that I love you, Lady Katharine," he went on, "that I can do anything for you, and I will; I will give you riches, I will create you a duchess, I..." "I have already a higher position than any you can give me," I interposed triumphantly. "And what's that?" "I am a true and lawful wife." "Wife to a man who sold you unto me?" Glad am I--I thank God for it daily; I shall continue so to do so long as I live--that I answered thus: "That is a lie." "It is the truth!" cried the King. "It will take more than the word of James Stewart to make me believe it." The King laughed. "You called me James Stewart, Katharine Clanranald." "Katharine Richmond," I protested. "Katharine anything you will; I drop my royalty, I cast it aside, I am a man who loves you, who will have you; nay, shrink not back, you are helpless, your reputation is gone already, you might as well have the sweet with the bitter, the reward with the service, and there is no shame in it after all as the world sees it, kings are exalted above other men. Faith, I know not why I plead a moment with you, when I might take you out of hand, but that I..." He stepped toward me; I sprang from him and, being fleeter of foot than he, gained the window before he divined my purpose. I tore away the hangings, I leaped upon the sill, and leaned far out, my right knee upon the sill, my left foot on the chair. "If you come one step nearer," I cried, looking back at him, "I shall hurl myself upon the rocks below!" "You wouldn't do that," protested the open-mouthed, astonished King, rooted to the spot where he stood. "Would I not? If you have the least doubt of my purpose, put me to the test; approach me and I die." "But I offer you riches, rank, power, my love, everything." "These things spell but two words for me, James Stewart." I was resolved that I would no longer call him King or Majesty, who was so unworthy of either title or attributes. "And what do they spell?" "Shame--dishonour." "Hey, woman, would you prefer death to our affection?" "I would prefer death to your crown, if you went with it!" I cried. The King's back was toward the door, which was in full view from where I crouched upon the broad window-sill. As he stared at me in bafflement, and as I looked at him in triumph, the door softly opened. I did not care much who came into the room. While I maintained my position, I had my own fate in my own hands if a dozen were beside the King; therefore, I looked with little curiosity and was totally unprepared for what I saw. Silently a splendid figure came through the slowly opened door, which he quietly closed behind him; in his hand he bore a bloodstained sword. It was my husband! He was true--that was my first thought, I swear.