Sir Hugh says, it is nonsense for me to reproach myself for an entirely natural and justifiable thought, but I do; and we Clanranalds--and, although I am only a woman, I have all the pride of race of the stoutest and best of them--have ever loved honour more than life; and my husband's rank, if less exalted than ours, he being but a simple Baronet while we are Belted Earls, is as old and honourable as any one's. After all, I am sure it was that dastardly Stenwold's persistent insinuations--if I may characterise his broad and open remarks about my husband as insinuations--that made all the trouble. I was so torn between shame and terror and humiliation and fearful anticipation, as I sat in the boat, that I was not mistress of my mind. I was completely in the power of this creature of King James, and my interview with the King at Durham had shown me that defenceless, penniless, helpless, I had nothing good to expect from His Majesty. I heard the sailors speak of Sunderland, and I knew, therefore, that the King had moved from Durham, perhaps to get out from under the influence of the good Bishop, who had been my champion and advocate, and, in all probability, his chief adviser now would be Lord Jeffreys. God help the man or woman or child subject to his caprice. I knew very well what the King designed for me, but I was quite resolved what to do on that score. I would die without the least hesitation before the King, or any one else, should possess me. My husband might have been false to me, he might have taken the King's purse, and perhaps be expecting future pay from the King in exchange for me, but I was his wife still and I was a Clanranald, my noble father's daughter,--we were not of the class from whom were chosen mistresses for kings. I was that desperate and reckless that, if I had or could come at a weapon in my hand when the time came, I was resolved that I would even kill the King myself. I had heard whispers of his courage, or his lack of it rather, and I would gladly kill him rather than submit to his desire, if there was no other way. It was these desperate resolutions which enabled me to sustain, with some degree of fortitude, my terrible situation. Indeed, my grief was not so much on the score of the future as it was because of the past. The doubt of my husband's love and honour bade fair to kill me. I could take care of myself, and could throw away my life rather than be clasped in any one's arms that had not the right. Yet I blame myself, with abiding shame; and I still think had I been given opportunity, had Stenwold kept silent, had I been left alone, I might have recovered my faith and trust in my lord, but my captor was constantly at my elbow with his infamous suggestions. Indeed, he played his part well; I knew what he would be at--he wanted to make it easy for the King--but in that effort he failed absolutely. Not even the King himself could do that.