"Hold, Joanna!" cried the earl; "what is it I hear? You call the hero who, in saving your husband's life, reduced himself to these cruel extremities, a madman! Was he made because he prevented the Countess of Mar from being a widow? Was he made because he prevented her children from being fatherless?" The countess, overcome by this cutting reproach, threw herself upon her husband's neck. "Alas! my lord," cried she, "all is madness to me that would plunge you into danger. Think of your own safety; of my innocent twins now in their cradle, should you fall. Think of our brother's feeling when you send his only son to join one he, perhaps, would call a rebel!" "If Earl Bothwell considered himself a vassal of Edward's he would not now be with Lord Loch-awe. From the moment that gallant Highlander retired to Argyleshire, the King of England regarded his adherents with suspicion. Bothwell's present visit to Loch-awe, you see, is sufficient to sanction the plunder of this castle by the peaceful government you approve. You saw the opening of those proceedings! And had they come to their dreadful issue, where, my dear Joanna, would now be your home, your husband, your children? It was the arm of the brave chief of Ellerslie which saved them from destruction." Lady Mar shuddered. "I admit the truth of what you say. But oh! is it not hard to put my all to the hazard; to see the bloody field on one side of my beloved Donald, and the mortal scaffold on the other?" "Hush!" cried the earl, "it is justice that beckons me, and victory will receive me to her arms. Let, oh Power above!" exclaimed he, in the fervor of enthusiasm, "let the victorious field for Scotland be Donald Mar's grave, rather than doom him to live a witness of her miseries!" "I cannot stay to hear you!" answered the countess; "I must invoke the Virgin to give me courage to be a patriot's wife; at present, your words are daggers to me." In uttering this she hastily withdrew, and left the earl to muse on the past--to concert plans for the portentous future. Chapter VII. Bothwell Castle. Meanwhile the Lady Helen had retired to her own apartments. Lord Mar's banner being brought to her from the armory, she sat down to weave into its silken texture the amber locks of the Scottish chief. Admiring their softness and beauty, while her needle flew, she pictured to herself the fine countenance they had once adorned.