Jane Seton; or, The King's Advocate: A Scottish Historical RomanceGrant, James
History
Jane Seton; or, The King's Advocate: A Scottish Historical Romance
Grant, James
Scotland -- History -- James V, 1513-1542 -- Fiction
"Lady," said Sir James Riddel, gravely, but respectfully, "you are
here by the orders of James V. and his eminence the cardinal, who
fourteen days ago sent me instructions to receive you, but you had
disappeared on the very night his warrant was issued. Remember,
lady, that the king is king; besides, my lord advocate--pardon me if
my words disturb you, for I am a rough old rider of James III.'s
days, and unused to speaking daintily."
Jane shuddered at the name of her persecutor; and hurriedly, but with
more coherence than before, began the story of her recent abduction,
and more recent escape. Again, to her infinite chagrin, she found
that she was utterly disbelieved, for the knight regarded her with a
kind but sad smile of commiseration, as one whom terror had slightly
"demented;" she saw him elevate his eyebrows, and nod perceptibly as
he exchanged a glance with his lady, who kindly smoothed Jane's
glossy hair, kissed her again as a mother would have done, and led
her through the Spur, and up the Castle-rock towards King David's
Tower. Stung to the soul by this provoking disbelief, she became
immediately silent, and resolved to explain no more.
As they proceeded through the vast hornwork, which, as we have said,
covered the whole Castle-hill, between the loopholes and embrasures
she obtained glimpses of the rough bank that shelved abruptly down to
the loch on the north, and of the reedy loch itself, where the wild
ducks and swans were floating, and of the bare ridge of pasture-land
where now the modern city is built.
"So I am now a captive in the castle of Edinburgh, while my poor
mother pines on Inchkeith! Where will the events of this dark drama
end?" thought she; and her heart sank lower still as the gigantic
gates of the Constable's Tower were closed and barred behind her.
CHAPTER XXXII.
THE THREE TREES OF DYSART.
"I launched my spear, and with a sudden wound
Transpierced his back, and fix'd him to the ground;
He falls, and mourns his fate with human cries:
Through the wide wound the vital spirit flies."
_Odyssey_, Book X.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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