therefore no means of resistance--I beseech you give them freedom
unshackled by conditions."

"It shall be, it shall be," replied Hereford, hastily, and evidently
moved; "but for thyself, young sir, thyself, can we do naught for thee?"

"Nothing," answered the young man, calmly. "I need little more on earth,
for neither my youth, my birth, nor what it pleaseth thee to term my
gallantry, will save me from the sweeping axe of Edward. I would beseech
thee to let my death atone for all, and redeem my noble friends; but I
ask it not, for I know in this thou hast no power; and yet, though I ask
nothing now," he added, after a brief pause, and in a lower voice, as to
be heard only by Hereford, "ere we march to England I may have a boon to
crave--protection, liberty for a beloved one, whose fate as yet I know
not." He spoke almost inarticulately, for again it seemed the horrid
words and maniac laugh of Jean Roy resounded in his ears. There was
that in the look and manner of the English earl inviting confidence: a
moment the tortured young man longed to pour all into his ear, to
conjure him to find Agnes, and give her to his arms; the next he
refrained, for her words, "Ask not how I will contrive to abide by thee
undiscovered by the foe," suddenly flashed on his memory, with the
conviction that if she were indeed still in life, and he acknowledged
her his wife, Hereford would feel himself compelled to keep her under
restraint, as he did Lady Seaton and the wives of other noble Scotsmen.
His lip trembled, but fortunately for the preservation of his composure,
Hereford's attention was called from him by the eager entrance of
several other officers, who all crowded round him, alike in
congratulation, and waiting his commands, and perceiving he was
agitated, the earl turned from him with a courteous bow. Eagerly he
seized that moment to spring to the side of his sister, to whisper the
impatient inquiry, "Agnes, where is Agnes?" To feel his heart a moment
throb high, and then sink again by her reply, that she had not seen her
since he had placed her in the arms of the seer; that in the fearful
confusion which followed, she had looked for her in vain, examined all
her accustomed haunts, but discovered no traces of her, save the silver
tissue veil. There was, however, some hope in that; Jean Roy, misled by
the glittering article, and seeing it perchance in the hands of another,
might have been deceived in her prey. Nay, he welcomed the