"Then my last hope is over," she said, sadly. "I looked to thy
influence, Sir Christopher, to plead for me, even if mine own
supplications should fail; and thou judgest even as Nigel, not as my
heart could wish."

"We judge as men and soldiers, gentle maiden; as men who, charged with a
most solemn responsibility, dare listen to naught save the voice of
justice, however loudly mercy pleads."

"And didst thou think, mine Agnes, if thy pleading was of no avail, the
entreaty of others could move me?" whispered Nigel, in a voice which,
though tender, was reproachful. "Dearest and best, oh, thou knowest not
the pang it is to refuse thee even this, and to feel my words have
filled those eyes with tears. Say thou wilt not deem me cruel, abiding
by justice when there is room for mercy?"

"I know thee better than to judge thee thus," answered Agnes, tearfully;
"the voice of duty must have spoken loudly to urge thee to this
decision, and I may not dispute it; yet would that death could be
averted. There was madness in that woman's eyes," and she shuddered as
she spoke.

"Of whom speakest thou, love?" Nigel asked, and Seaton looked the
question.

"Of his wife," she replied. "She came to me distracted, and used such
dreadful words, menaces and threats they seemed; but his mother, more
composed, assured me they meant nothing, they were but the ravings of
distress, and yet I fear to look on her again without his pardon."

"And thou shalt not, my beloved; these are not scenes and words for such
as thee. Rest here with Christine and good Sir Christopher; to tend and
cheer a wounded knight is a fitter task for thee, sweet one, than thus
to plead a traitor's cause."

Pressing his lips upon her brow as he spoke, he placed her gently on a
settle by Sir Christopher; then crossing the apartment, he paused a
moment to whisper to Lady Seaton.

"Look to her, my dear sister; she has been terrified, though she would
conceal it. Let her not leave thee till this fatal duty is
accomplished."

Lady Seaton assured him of her compliance, and he left the apartment.

He had scarcely quitted the postern before he himself encountered Jean
Roy, a woman who, even in her mildest moments, evinced very little
appearance of sanity, and who now, from her furious and distracting
gestures, seemed wrought up to no ordinary pitch of madness. She kept
hovering round him, uttering menaces and entreaties in one and the same
breath, declaring one moment that