Though weak, feeble, and sinking with terror, Jane Seton, instead of hurrying at once to Holyrood, the dimly-lighted shrines of which were visible through its western windows and doorway (for then church doors stood permanently open), lingered affectionately so long as her brother was in sight, nor turned away until he had disappeared. At the porch, which served both as an entrance to the ancient abbey and to the new palace, was a doorway, where hung a certain bell, which was only rung by those claiming the ancient and still sacred privilege of sanctuary. Opposite was an edifice occupied as a guard-house by the king's arquebusiers. "Mother of Mercy, be praised!" she exclaimed, with a heart full of thankfulness, as she raised her hand trembling with eagerness to the bell-rope, when, lo! swift as light, a man sprang into the archway, cut the cord, and seized her by the arm. Jane uttered a faint cry, and sank against the wall, on seeing the hateful visage of Dobbie, the doomster, and hearing his false and hollow laugh in her ear. There was a savage leer in his eyes, and he lolled out a long red tongue through his short wiry beard, as he arrested her. On one side lay the porter-lodge of the abbey, where she would have received a sanctuary; on the other lay the guardhouse of the soldiers; and she knew that if discovered by them, after what Redhall told her, she would indeed be lost. On one hand lay life--on the other death! "Sanctuary!" she cried with a despairing voice, as she clung to the handle of the door; "sanctuary, father abbot--good master porter! In the name of the blessed Trinity, sanctuary! For the love of God and St. Mary, sanctuary! sanctuary! Oh, man, man!" she continued, wildly, as the wretch threw his arms around her, and forcibly dragged her away, "what wrong have I ever done thee? Oh, for my brother's dagger now!--pity, pity! I am very weak and ill. Sweet Mother of Compassion have mercy upon me, for others have none!" Her voice failed and sense began to leave her. "How now--what the devil!" cried a rough voice, "whose brittle ware may this lass be?" "By St. Girzy, a fair strapping dame!" cried another. "Let go the lass, rascal, or I will brain thee with the boll of my arquebuse!" exclaimed a third, as several soldiers of the guard came hurriedly out of the porch with their swords drawn and matches lighted. Jane's eyes were closed, but she felt several hands laid roughly upon her, as she was dragged into the court of guard. "Ho! ho!--blood!" said one; "hath this squeeling mudlark committed a murder? see, there are red spots on her crammasie kirtle." "Yea, and worse," said Dobbie; "she is a sorceress of the house of Seton; and here is my lord the cardinal's warrant for her committal to ward, signed and sealed wi' his braid hat, tassels and a'." "A sorceress!" muttered the soldiers; and Jane felt their hands withdrawn as they shrunk back; and at that moment a deadly faintness came over her.....