"But in vain, for _all_ have seen it. There is not a trencher-boy in the kitchen, or a groom in the stables, but knows of it as well as I do." "Have you never considered, sister, what a terrible thing it is to have to forget--to strive at crushing all memory of the past--all hope for the future; to rend from the heart a love it has cherished for years?" "Years!" reiterated Margaret, with an angry laugh; "you are but eighteen, Murielle." "And you not twenty." "Yet I have wept for a dead husband." "And been consoled," was the unwise reply. Margaret's cheek grew white with suppressed passion at the inference which might be drawn from this casual remark; but she said, emphatically,-- "Enough of this; my husband, to strengthen his house, has resolved that you shall become the bride of one who is second to none in Scotland; and he has sworn it on the cross of his sword, by God and St. Bryde, that it shall be so, even should he chain you to the altar-steps, in Tongland Abbey kirk." "Oh, Maggie," said Murielle, in a piercing voice, "do not talk to me thus. I have given my heart into the keeping of Patrick Gray, and death itself cannot restore it to me, or rend it from him. Trustingly I gave it, dear sister, yonder--yonder, at the three auld thorns of the Carlinwark; so be merciful to me, for no better, fonder, or purer love than his, was ever offered up to woman." "A king's minion!" said the countess, spitefully; "but it is the will of God you shall never be this." "Never! Say not so; it sounds like a prophecy. Never----" "But as the earl, my husband, has sworn----" "Oh, impiety!" "The bride of a nobler and better." "A better, say you?" exclaimed Murielle, with an angry laugh. "Dispute it if you can--Robert, duke of Albany." "An outlawed traitor," said Murielle, warming in her turn; "is this your husband's scheme?" "Yes, a scheme formed for your honour." "It is a bold one." "Most of his schemes are so," replied Margaret, quietly. "Duke Robert is contracted to a daughter of Charles VII. of France," said Murielle, taking courage. "The same power that permitted _my_ second marriage, can annul his contract, and give him back his troth, from Mademoiselle Radegonde." "Well, rather than _break_ mine, and be his bride, sister, you shall see me stretched in Tongland Abbey kirk, as cold as the marble tombs that lie there!" "We shall see," replied Margaret, biting her cherry-like nether lip, and stamping her foot in growing wrath; but Murielle threw her white arms round her neck, and said plaintively,-- "You do not, you cannot mean all you say, Maggie. Ah, do not scold, when you should guide and aid me." "Is it not my desire to see you happy?" "Yes," sobbed Murielle; "I know, I hope that it is." "And my husband's?" "My kinsman, the earl, is a fearsome man!" said Murielle, with an ill-repressed shudder. "Have I not striven for years to be your guide, your friend, your comforter, and now----"