Douglas of whom the children
sang, once again gathering the gowans on the brae sides of Thrieve or
perilously reaching out for purple irises athwart the ditches of the
Isle.

_"Take her by the lily-white hand,
Lead her o'er the water;
Give her kisses, one, two, three,
For she's a lady's daughter."_

As Sholto MacKim listened to the quaint and moving lullaby, suddenly
there came into the field of his vision that which stiffened him into
a statue of breathing marble.

For without clatter of accoutrement or tramp of hoof, without
companion or attendant, a white palfrey had appeared through the green
arches of the woodlands. A girl was seated upon the saddle, swaying
with gentle movement to the motion of her steed. At the sight of her
figure as she came nearer a low cry of horror and amazement broke from
Sholto's lips.

It was the Lady Sybilla.

Yet he knew that he had left her behind him in Edinburgh, the siren
temptress of Earl Douglas, the woman who had led his master into the
power of the enemy, she for whose sake he had refused the certainty
of freedom and life. Anger against this smiling enchantress suddenly
surged up in Sholto's heart.

"Halt there--on your life!" he cried, and urged his wearied steed
forward. Like dry leaves before a winter wind, the children were
dispersed every way by the gust of his angry shout. But the maiden on
the palfrey either heeded not or did not hear.

Whereupon Sholto rode furiously crosswise to intercept her. He would
learn what had befallen his master. At least he would avenge him upon
one--the chiefest and subtlest of his enemies. But not till he had
come within ten paces did the Lady Sybilla turn upon him the fulness
of her regard. Then he saw her face. It broke upon him sudden as the
sight of imminent hell to one sure of salvation. He had expected to
find there gratified ambition, sated lust, exultant pride, cruelest
vengeance. He saw instead as it had been the face of an angel cast out
of heaven, or perhaps, rather, of a martyr who has passed through the
torture chamber on her way to the place of burning.

The sight stopped Sholto stricken and wavering. His anger fell from
him like a cloak shed when the sun shines in his strength.

The Lady Sybilla's face showed of no earthly paleness. Marble white it
was, the eyes heavy with weeping, purple rings beneath accentuating
the horror that dwelt eternally in them. The lips that had been as the
bow