At the request of my dear husband, Sir Hugh Richmond, I take up the telling of this strange, yet true, tale for a little space. He did the same for me when the narration of events was in my hand, and I can do no less for him; besides, he is my true and lawful lord, and I owe him duty and I pay him love unbounded, the more especially the latter, because I so basely requited his affections by doubting him. 'Tis true it came from the suggestions of that devil Stenwold, and I can scarce bring myself to believe that I would have entertained a doubt of my lord and master if his, to me, inexplicable conduct, when I was rushed away from him on the bluffs above Cockenzie, had not somehow given colour to the suspicion. He sat his horse so quietly, outwardly so indifferent to my appeals; with King James' his purse hanging on the saddle bow, the price of my dishonour apparently; not even lifting voice, much less drawing blade or striking blow for me. What could I think? Sir Hugh hath often assured me since that he quite forgives me the suspicion, that he pardons the anger and resentment I harboured against him, that it was thoroughly warranted. Being a woman, albeit according to him a wonder among women and the best wife a soldier ever had--such is his fond flattery!--he saith I could not be expected to know what idea was in a mere stupid man's mind. And I could not be blamed for not seeing that a husband at large and free to effect my rescue was worth a thousand dead ones who had been cut to pieces by a band of murderous villains before my very eyes. By which he says he would have effected nothing and perhaps have plunged me into deeper grief than was mine when I was dragged away from him. Besides all this kindness from my lord, I take some little comfort in the knowledge that my father and Master Dunner also were deceived. Still they did not love him as I, and I should have known. Especially as, if I had thought, I would have known that in no way could my lord have had any communication with the King since our meeting. But who that is mad with jealousy and fear can think clearly? I could with more equanimity bear to see him dead rather than dishonoured, as he seemed to me that afternoon when I was ravished away. My fault, my grievous fault, lay in my failure to realise that no power on earth could dishonour my lord. The mere fact that he suffered himself in some degree to be put in this false position, and to answer nothing, ought not at all to have worried me, who, though I knew him but shortly, yet loved him and his greatness of heart so well.