"Be not too certain. Oh, I have so many lovers, that I dare scarcely look from under my hood, lest I add one to the number. Abduction is not so uncommon, surely. Did not King James carry off the lady of Lochlevin on her bridal night? Is not the Knight of Casche now a prisoner in the castle for carrying off the wife of Sir David Scott, whom he slew in the kirk of Strathmiglo? And 'tis only six days since Kincaid of Coates forcibly abducted the poor wife of master Quentin Smebard, when she was cheapening her a new hood at the Tron--yea, in the High-street, and at noon-day." "Tush! a pitiful clerk of the chancery," said Roland, playing with her curls. "Believe me, my little ladykin, that none will dare meddle with thee who see the livery of thy followers, and remember thou art the affianced bride of Sir Roland Vipont. So in vain, cunning fairy, thou wouldest frighten me from performing what friendship and hospitality require. But what is this book, for which madam the prioress of St. Katherine is so anxious?" "See, it is _The Lyf of St. Katherin of Sienna_," said Jane, opening a little volume of Wynkyn de Worde's, the velvet cover of which she had embroidered beautifully with gold upon crimson. "Thou canst read this black letter, of course?" "Why, thanks to fortune and my good friend the father here, I learned the _Grace Buke_ and _Prymar_, at the principal grammar school of this good burgh, when it was first opened by Provost Logan of Coatfield." "In the year of grace 1519," said the countess, "just six years after the death of the good King James, whose munificence founded it--woe's me!" "And why doth this prioress not embroider her own books? How, i' the devil's name, do they spend the long dull day in yonder convent; for I vow 'tis a fortress all walled round like the city of Lisle--and I suppose the fair sisters are never beyond it." "Save when sickness or sorrow, want or misery, call them into the world; for they are of inestimable service to the poor. Ah! had you seen them in time of the plague. The Prioress Josina--thou rememberest the beautiful Josina Henrison, who with me was a damoiselle of honour to madam the Duchess Anne of Albany? Ah! she is a very angel of goodness. Now, do not look in that way, as if you were just about to laugh at me?" "Who--I? Mass! I would almost have fallen sick on purpose, to have had such a nurse as the pretty Josina--had I not----" "What, sir?" "Loved thee, and consequently been sure of another." "'Tis well you say so," replied Jane, playfully, pinching his ear. "Ah! my mother is watching us!" "God bless ye, bairns!" said the old countess, kindly and fondly; "for ye were born under the same star, ilk being destined for the other." "_Pax Domini sit semper voliscum_," said Father St. Bernard, with closed eyes, and waving his right hand towards them. "Plague take thy Latin," muttered the earl. "Which meaneth, the peace of the Lord be about you," continued the priest.