"And commanded me to obey; ah, pardon me for making this admission!" said she imploringly. "Pardon you?" reiterated Gray. "Yes; but the earl rarely condescends to hint." "Oh my beloved heart!" "I meant not to add to your griefs, dearest, by naming a rival whose rank renders him so formidable,--but--but--" tears choked her utterance. "And this rival is the duke of Albany--a French minion--an outlaw; the son of a traitor who plotted for the lawless detention of James I., in England; a roué and swashbuckler, who consorts with the robber, Ludwig of Endhoven!" "'Tis indeed he, to whom they would sacrifice me," said Murielle, clasping her poor little tremulous hands, and weeping bitterly. Gray remained silent for some moments, while love, pity, and alarm wrung his heart by turns. "I know it--I know it," said he gloomily, "for Albany's own lips informed me." "You see, dear Gray, to what lengths Douglas and my sister will go in their thirst for vengeance. The young king dethroned or slain; his banished cousin crowned by English aid as Robert IV., the house of Douglas would become more powerful than ever, and thus attain in the land a strength which none could crush, and before which Livingstone and Crichton assuredly must fall." The vista these projects opened up, when thus plainly stated, startled even the gallant heart of Gray! "But Albany dare not," said he huskily, while grasping his dagger; "_this_ should end his treason long ere it reached the mature length his father's did." "Douglas and Albany will dare anything," sobbed Murielle; "alas, poor me! I am, my sister says, but a child, and a very weak one in their iron hands." "Then be a woman--let us escape and seek safety by flight together. We are but thirty miles from the sea, where we can soon find a ship for Scotland, and ere the earl's return we may be ready to defy him." "Oh to what would you tempt me?" "To save yourself and me. Once wedded, once again in Scotland, under the protection of the king, a boy though he be, we might defy your kinsman and all his followers." "Oh no--no!" said Murielle, shaking her head mournfully. "To Gueldres then. Duke Arnold will succour and protect us," urged Gray vehemently. "Worse still!" "Oh Murielle, in pity to yourself and me----" "Nay, nay, this must not be," said the abbot of Tongland angrily, as he came suddenly forward; "Sir Patrick Gray, this is a breach of faith with me. In friendship to her, and you my kinsman--for I dearly love you both--I permitted this meeting; but have no intention that it shall take a turn so startling--so dangerous for the honour of Lady Murielle, and for the lives of us all perhaps! Come--come with me lady, we must return at once." "But we shall meet again,--good Father Abbot, say we shall meet again?" urged Gray.