“Why, we must put on these rough bracelets. I durst not--nay, d--n it, I durst do any thing--but I would not for three hours’ plunder of a stormed town bring a whig before my Colonel without his being ironed. Come, come, young man, don’t look sulky about it.” He advanced to put on the irons; but, seizing the oaken-seat upon which he had rested, Morton threatened to dash out the brains of the first who should approach him. “I could manage you in a moment, my youngster,” said Bothwell, “but I had rather you would strike sail quietly.” Here indeed he spoke the truth, not from either fear or reluctance to adopt force, but because he dreaded the consequences of a noisy scuffle, through which it might probably be discovered that he had, contrary to express orders, suffered his prisoner to pass the night without being properly secured. “You had better be prudent,” he continued, in a tone which he meant to be conciliatory, “and don’t spoil your own sport. They say here in the castle that Lady Margaret’s niece is immediately to marry our young Captain, Lord Evandale. I saw them close together in the hall yonder, and I heard her ask him to intercede for your pardon. She looked so devilish handsome and kind upon him, that on my soul--But what the devil’s the matter with you?--You are as pale as a sheet--Will you have some brandy?” “Miss Bellenden ask my life of Lord Evandale?” said the prisoner, faintly. “Ay, ay; there’s no friend like the women--their interest carries all in court and camp.--Come, you are reasonable now--Ay, I thought you would come round.” Here he employed himself in putting on the fetters, against which, Morton, thunderstruck by this intelligence, no longer offered the least resistance. “My life begged of him, and by her!--ay--ay--put on the irons--my limbs shall not refuse to bear what has entered into my very soul--My life begged by Edith, and begged of Evandale!” “Ay, and he has power to grant it too,” said Bothwell--“He can do more with the Colonel than any man in the regiment.”