"I am not prepared to die!" she exclaimed in a piercing voice; "my sins of omission are many; oh, have mercy on me!" "Thou art better prepared than I," said Morrar na Shean. "At least let me say one prayer in yonder chapel ere you slay me--in pity for my sins and soul, permit me this." "Go, then," said Morrar, grimly; "but return quickly, lest I drag you from its altar." With tottering steps Gunhilda hurried into the little chapel; but ere three minutes had elapsed, the inexorable Morrar cried, sternly,--"Come forth!" There was no response. "Come forth, Gunhilda, or by the Demon of the Wends I will drag thee out!" "I come--I come," replied a voice within the vaulted oratory, from the arched windows of which a sudden light gleamed forth. "'Tis well," said Morrar, "for my patience is nearly exhausted;" and the countess, with her head bent, and muffled in her veil, approached him from the arched doorway, through which a broad and rosy flake of light was streaming. Seizing her again by the arm, he dragged her to the edge of the beetling rocks, where he meant to stab and toss her into the eddying stream, which was rushing in full flood towards the sea; but, marvellous to relate! as he tore the veil asunder, he beheld, not Gunhilda, but a strange woman whose face was of wondrous beauty, and whose head was encircled by a shining light. Then he knew in his heart that the spirit of St. Monina stood before him! The dagger fell from his hand; he closed his eyes with awe and dismay, and when he looked again the figure had melted into thin air and disappeared. Appalled by this incident, he rushed away to the wildest part of the hills, and on being joined by Thorolf and John of Harpidale, he put to sea as usual in his galley, and departed no one knew whither. The countess was found by her attendants in a deep but soft slumber, before the little altar of the river chapel; but immediately on her return to Braal, she took her three daughters, Algiva, Erica, and Thora, to Bishop Adam of Caithness, and besought him to conceal and protect them; and leaving them with tears and prayers, she returned to the home of her terrible husband, giving out that the children were dead. Meanwhile the bishop, with all speed, despatched them to the court of King William the Lion, and consigned the three helpless girls to the care of the Queen Ermengarde de Beaumont. The vision he had beheld on that night by the river Thurso long filled with terror the soul of Morrar na Shean; but after a time the impression became fainter, and gradually he came to the conclusion that the whole affair must have been a dream, originating most probably in his wine-cup.