no, no! thou must not stay for these."

"And whither wouldst thou send me, Nigel, and for what?" she asked,
still calmly, though her quivering lip denoted that self-possession was
fast failing. "Why?"

"Whither? to safety, freedom, peace, my best beloved!" he answered,
fervently; "for what? that happier, brighter days may beam for thee,
that thou mayest live to bless and be a blessing; dearest, best, cling
not to a withered stem, thou mayest be happy yet."

"And wilt thou join me, if I seek this home of safety, Nigel?" she laid
her hand on his arm, and fixed her eyes unflinchingly upon his face. He
could not meet that glance, a cold shudder passed over his frame ere he
could reply.

"Mine own Agnes," and even then he paused, for his quivering lip could
not give utterance to his thoughts, and a minute rolled in that deep
stillness, and still those anxious eyes moved not from his face. At
length voice returned, and it was sad yet deeply solemn, "Our lives rest
not in our own hands," he said; "and who when they part may look to meet
again? Beloved, if life be spared, canst doubt that I will join thee?
yet, situated as I am, governor of a castle about to fall, a patriot,
and a Bruce, brother to the noble spirit who wears our country's crown,
and has dared to fling down defiance to a tyrant, Agnes, mine own Agnes,
how may I dream of life? I would send thee hence ere that fatal moment
come; I would spare thee this deep woe. I would bid thee live, beloved,
live till years had shed sweet peace upon thy heart, and thou wert happy
once again."

There was a moment's pause; the features of Agnes had become convulsed
with agony as Nigel spoke, and her hands had closed with fearful
pressure on his arm, but his last words, spoken in his own rich,
thrilling voice, called back the stagnant blood.

"No, no; I will not leave thee!" she sobbed forth, as from the sudden
failing of strength in every limb she sunk kneeling at his feet. "Nigel,
Nigel, I will not leave thee; in life or in death I will abide by thee.
Force me not from thee; seek not to tempt me by the tale of safety,
freedom, peace; thou knowest not the depth, the might of woman's love,
if thou thinkest things like these can weigh aught with her, even if
chains and death stood frowningly beside. I will not leave thee; whom
have I beside thee, for whom else wouldst thou call on me to live?
Alone, alone, utterly alone, save _thee_! Wilt thou bid me hence, and
leave thee to