"It was, I own, a madcap adventure, his coming here to-night; but thou knowest that he is headstrong as a Highland bull. However, Lintstock, my servant, a wary old gunner of King James IV., is with him, and will see he is neither insulted nor discovered." "Anything is better than suspense," said Jane, sobbing. "Would that the king were here." "I will bring him if you wish it," said Roland, rising and taking both her hands in his; "he would come in a moment, for to him a lady's message is paramount to one from the parliament. But would you say that the earl is in Scotland--here among us in Edinburgh?" "I would, Roland--yes, for such is my confidence in the honour and generosity of the king." "'Tis not misplaced, for James is alike good and merciful; but 'twere better to ask his French bride, whom he loves too well to refuse her anything--even to become the ally of his uncle, English Henry; and certes! the pardon of a gallant Scottish noble is no great boon to crave of a generous Scottish king." Roland started, for at that moment the voice of James was heard at one of the open windows of the hall just above them. "Vipont! Sir Roland Vipont!" he said. "I am here, at your grace's service," replied Sir Roland, raising his bonnet. "Wilt thon favour us a moment? here, my lord the bishop of Limoges and I have a dispute as to whether our old gun of Galloway, Mollance Meg, or the Devil of Bois le Duc, carry the largest ball. I say Meg; the bishop says the Devil; and as 'tis thy office to know all points of gunner-craft, come hither, if that fair dame will do us the honour to spare thee for one moment, for we have laid a hundred lions Scots on the matter." Loth to leave Jane, and anxious to please the king, Roland hesitated, till she said-- "Obey the king, and I will wait your return; luckily, yonder is my cousin Sybil and Louis Leslie of the king's guard." Roland pressed her hand, sprang up the flight of steps, and the moment he was gone Lady Jane found some one standing at her side. She turned, and encountered the sombre figure of Redhall, the sad glance of whose piercing eyes ran like lightning through her veins; and she trembled at the double reflection that she was almost alone, and that he might have overheard their dangerous conversation concerning her brother. CHAPTER X. LOVE AND ABHORRENCE. "Ah! who can e'er forget so fair a being? Who can forget her half retiring sweets? God! she is like a milk-white lamb that bleats For man's protection."