s lady is so affianced, that it is sacrilege to
aspire to her.'

'Ah!' said the Bishop, in an audible aside to the giggling Countess:
'this comes of her having thrown herself at the youth's head. Now he
will no more of her.'

Crimson with wrath, and also with a wild sense of hope that the
obligation had become absolute, Malcolm made a vehement incoherent
exclamation; but Esclairmonde retained her composure.

'Monseigneur and Madame both know better,' she said. 'This is but
another menace.'

'Peace, minion,' said the Bishop of Therouenne, 'and listen to me. If
this young gentleman, after professing himself willing to wed you, now
draws back, so much the worse for him. But if you terrify him out of it
with your humours, then will my brother St. Pol and the Duke of Burgundy
soon be here, with no King of England to meddle; and by St. Adrian, Sir
Boemond will be daunted by no airs, like Monsieur there. A bride shall
you be, Esclairmonde de Luxemburg, ere the week is out, if not to
Monsieur de Glenuskie, to the Chevalier Boemond de Bourgogne.'

'Look not at me,' said Jaqueline. 'I am weary of your contumacy. All I
shall do is to watch you well. I've suspected for some days that you
were concocting mischief with the little Montagu; but you'll not escape
again, as when I was fool enough to help you.'

The two stood a few paces apart, where they had been discovered;
Esclairmonde's eyes were closed, her hands clasped, as if in silent
prayer for aid.

'Girl--your choice!' said the Bishop, peremptorily. 'Wedlock on the spot
to this gentleman, or to Sir Boemond a week hence.'

Esclairmonde was very white.

'My will shall not consent to a present breach of vow to save a future
one,' she said, in a scarce audible voice.

A sudden thought darted into Malcolm's mind. With colour flooding his
face to his very temples, he stepped nearer to her, and said, in a
tremulous under-tone, 'Lady, trust me.'

The Bishop withheld Jaqueline almost by force, so soon as he saw that the
pair were whispering together, and that there was something of relaxation
in Esclairmonde's face as she looked up at him in silent interrogation.

He spoke low, but solemnly and imploringly. 'Trust me with your plight,
lady, and I will restore it when you are free.'

Hardly able to speak, she however murmured, 'You will indeed do this?'

'So help me Heaven!' he said, and his eyes grew large and bright; he held
his head with the majesty of his