Earl of
Bothwell.

The young laird was taken at once before the king. He spoke in
his usual fearless tones.

'It is true,' said he, 'that I have ofttimes spoken to the Earl
of Bothwell, and it is true that I received from him the sealed
packet which was found in my trunk. But of that which is written
in the packet know I nought. The seal is, as you see, unbroken.
Nor knew I that the earl was still acting as traitor,' added the
lad, as he saw displeasure written on the face of the king.

But despite all he could say, the young laird was arrested as a
traitor and thrown into prison. Margaret Twynlace with her own
eyes saw Sir John Carmichael, keeper of the prison, turn the key
in the lock.

Margaret went quickly to the queen's house, but there did she
neither sew nor sing. She sat twining her fingers in and out,
while she cried, 'Woe is me that ever I was born, or that ever I
left my home in Denmark. I would I had never seen the young Laird
of Logie.' And then Margaret wept bitterly, for having seen the
young laird, she loved him well.

When the queen came to her bower, she was grieved to see her
favourite maid in tears. Yet had she no comfort to offer her, for
well she knew that, even should he wish it, little power had the
king to save the young Laird of Logie.

But the queen spoke kindly to the maid, and told her that she,
Margaret, might e'en go herself to King James to beg for the life
of the young Laird of Logie. For it was well known that the
sentence passed on him would be death.

Then Margaret Twynlace wiped from her face all traces of her
tears. She put on her soft green silk gown, and she combed out
her bonny yellow hair. Thus she went into the presence of the
king and fell on her knee before him.

'Why, May Margaret,' said the king, 'is it thou? What dost thou
at my feet, my bonny maid?'

'Ah, sire,' cried she, 'I have come to beg of thee a boon. Nor
ever since I came over the sea have I begged of thee until now.
Give me, I beseech of thee, the life of the young Laird of
Logie.'

'Alas, May Margaret,' cried the king, 'that cannot I do! An thou
gavest to me all the gold that is in Scotland yet could I not
save the lad.'

Then Margaret Twynlace turned away and crept back to the queen's
bower. Yet now no tears fell from her blue eyes, for if neither
king nor queen could help the young Laird of Logie, she herself
would save him from death.

She would wait until night, when the king and queen sl