an thou, mine Agnes. He is one of those
dark, discontented, rebellious spirits, that never rest in stirring up
others to be like them; who would employ even the life I gave him to my
own destruction, and that of the brave and faithful soldiers with me."

"But send him hence, dearest Nigel," still entreated Agnes. "Give him
life, but send him from the castle; will not this remove the danger of
his influence with others?"

"And give him field and scope to betray us yet again, sweet one. It were
indeed scorning the honorable counsel of Hereford to act thus; for trust
me, Agnes, there are not many amid our foes would resist temptation as
he hath done."

"Yet would not keeping him close prisoner serve thee as well as death,
Nigel? Bethink thee, would it not spare the ill of taking life?"

"Dearest, no," he answered. "There are many, alas! too many within these
walls who need an example of terror to keep them to their duty. They
will see that treachery avails not with the noble Hereford, and that,
discovered by me, it hath no escape from death. If this man be, as I
imagine, in league with other contentious spirits--for he could scarce
hope to betray the castle into the hands of the English without some aid
within--his fate may strike such terror into other traitor hearts that
their designs will be abandoned. Trust me, dearest, I do not do this
deed of justice without deep regret; I grieve for the necessity even as
the deed, and yet it must be; and bitter as it is to refuse thee aught,
indeed I cannot grant thy boon."

"Yet hear me once more, Nigel. Simple and ignorant as I am, I cannot
answer such arguments as thine; yet may it not be that this deed of
justice, even while it strikes terror, may also excite the desire for
revenge, and situated as we are were it not better to avoid all such
bitterness, such heart-burnings amongst the people?"

"We must brave it, dearest," answered Nigel, firmly, "The direct line of
justice and of duty may not be turned aside for such fears as these."

"Nor do I think they have foundation," continued Sir Christopher Seaton.
"Thou hast pleaded well and kindly, gentle maiden, yet gladly as we
would do aught to pleasure thee, this that thou hast asked, alas! must
not be. The crime itself demands punishment, and even could we pardon
that, duty to our country, our king, ourselves, calls loudly for his
death, lest his foul treachery should spread."

The eyes of the maiden filled with tears.