oor and place it, with your sister, outside on the narrow stairway.
You have withdrawn the rope ladder so she cannot alarm the garrison."

"But I have not withdrawn it," said Catherine quickly. "My sister must
not leave this room or she will bring interference."

"Then," said the king calmly, as he rose and took the key from the
large door, "we shall at least make it impossible for her to open the
way into the hall." And so saying, he stepped to the smaller door,
which he opened, and before either of the women could prevent his
action, or even grasp an inkling of his design, he stepped outside,
key in hand, and thrust to their places the bolts of the stairway
door.

The two girls looked at each other for a moment in silence, Isabel
plainly panic-stricken, while in Catherine's face anger struggled with
chagrin. Each was quick to see the sudden consequences of this turning
of the tables; the two were helpless prisoners in a remote portion of
the castle, no one within its walls being acquainted with their
whereabouts. The king, insulted, hoodwinked, and all but murdered,
was now at liberty, free to ride the few short leagues that lay
between Doune and Stirling, and before daybreak the fortress would be
in the hands of an overwhelming force with the present garrison
prisoners. In the awed stillness an unexpected sound came to them from
the outside; the sound of a man endeavouring to suppress the hearty
laughter that overmastered him. To be doomed is bad enough, but to be
made the subject of levity was too much for the dauntless Catherine.
She flung her dagger ringing to the stone floor with a gesture of
rage, then sank upon a bench and gave way to tears; tears of bitter
humiliation and rage.

"Ladies," said the king from the outside, "I beg that you will allow
me to open the door." But, receiving no answer, the bolts were drawn
once more; James again entered the apartment and gazed down upon two
fair proud heads, crowned with ruddy hair.

"Dear ladies," said the king, "forgive me my untimely mirth. Both of
you take matters much too seriously; a little laughter is necessary in
this world. My Lady Catherine, I told you that I could grant no
concessions under coercion, but now coercion has vanished and I enter
this room a free man of my own will. Tell me, my girl, what is it you
want? The rescinding of your father's exile? It is granted. The right
to live unmolested in your own castle? It is granted. Safe conduct to
Engl