'It is the request of my uncle,' said Arwed to the judge, 'that all the wrongs which Mac Donalbain has perpetrated against our house should be passed over without investigation.' 'What, even the attempt against his excellency's person?' indignantly asked the judge, whilst Megret in silent anger ground the floor with his spurred heel. 'The band,' said Arwed, 'among whom the governor had accidentally fallen, wished to murder him for their own safety. Mac Donalbain preserved the old man's life by risking his own. Even the imprisonment was but a measure resorted to for that purpose. I also have to thank this man for the preservation of my life. He would have a strong counter reckoning to make with us. Therefore let one account be considered as balanced by the other.' 'I am astonished,' spitefully observed Megret, 'that my lord the governor has not proposed an amnesty for his dear son-in-law.' 'My uncle,' answered Arwed with earnestness, 'can pardon injuries personal to himself; but he will never allow himself to interrupt the just operation of the laws. With us Mac Donalbain has made his peace. He has now to reconcile himself with the laws and satisfy the demands of public justice, if need be, with his blood!' 'Oh, would to God it might be so!' cried Mac Donalbain. 'With my present feelings life would be to me a most sad and unwelcome gift.' A disturbance was now heard without the session-room. The door flew open, and the breathless Christine, with her child in her arms, pressed irresistibly through the crowd of officers who sought to hold her back. 'This trial also!' sighed Mac Donalbain, turning away his face. 'In God's name, the countess Gyllenstierna!' cried the astonished judge. 'I was the countess Gyllenstierna,' said Christine. 'I am now the wedded wife of the brigand leader, Mac Donalbain, and my place is by his side, in chains or upon the gallows.' 'Christine! how could you afflict your father by this second shameful flight?' Arwed reproachingly asked. 'My father's life,' answered Christine, 'was already empoisoned beyond remedy by my guilt. Therefore allow me the merit of having fulfilled my duty towards at least _one_ being in the world, my husband. He is a prisoner, and suffering in body and mind. He needs care and consolation; and from whom can he expect either, if not from her who has bound her fate with his for this life by a solemn oath before God's altar.' 'Have you then really married the criminal?' Megret anxiously asked. Christine gave him a scornful look and remained silent; but when the question was repeated by the judge, she drew a sealed paper from her bosom and laid it upon his table. 'A Gyllenstierna can never wholly fall,' said she proudly. 'The old curate of Lyksale, constrained by my tears, secretly married us a short time before his death.'