o their country as mine own--art thou
not indeed this man, and yet hath Edward, the deadly foe of thy race,
thy land, thy countrymen, more exalted claims than thine own blood? No,
no, it cannot be! thou wilt relent, thou wilt have mercy; let him be but
free, and do with me even what thou wilt!"

"Free! go free!" repeated the earl, with a hoarse laugh, ere Alan could
interfere. "Let him go free, forsooth, when he tells me he is my foe,
and will go hence and join my bitterest enemies the moment he is free.
Go free! and who art thou who askest this boon? Hast thou such claims
upon me, that for thy pleasure I should give freedom to thy son?"

"My lord, my lord, 'tis for thine own sake, for his, thy child as well
as mine, I do beseech, implore thy mercy? draw not the curse of heaven
on thy heart by exposing him to death. Thou wilt know and feel him as
indeed thy child when he lies bleeding before thee, when thine own hand
hath forged the death-bolt, and then, then it will be too late; thou
wilt yearn for his voice in vain. Oh! is it not sufficient triumph to
have in thy power the wife who hath dared thy authority, who hath joined
the patriot band, and so drawn down on her the vengeance of Edward? The
price of a traitor is set upon her head. My lord, my lord, is not one
victim enough--will not my capture insure thee reward and honor in the
court of Edward? Then do with me what thou wilt--chains, torture, death;
but my child, my brave boy--oh, if thou hast one spark of mercy in thy
heart, let him go!"

"Mother," hoarsely murmured Alan, as he strove to raise her from her
suppliant posture, "mother, this shall not be! look upon that face and
know thou pleadest in vain. I will not accept my freedom at such a
price; thy knee, thy supplications unto a heart of stone, for me! No,
no; mother, dear mother, we will die together!"

"Thou shalt not, thou shalt not, my beloved, my beautiful! thy death
will be on my head, though it come from a father's hand. I will plead, I
will be heard! My lord, my lord," she continued, wrought to a pitch of
agonized feeling, no heart save that to which she pleaded could have
heard unmoved, "I ask but his freedom, the freedom of a boy, a
child--and of whom do I ask it?--of his father, his own father! Speak to
me, answer me; thou canst not be so lost to the voice, the feelings of
nature. For the sake of the mother who loved, the father who blessed
_thee_, whose blessing hallowed our union and smiled on