bed; but
none, save three of those who marked it, knew or even guessed the cause.
The countess had watched his glance, as at first composedly it had
wandered over the multitude beneath and around him, and she saw it rest
on that one face, which, in its sculptured misery, stood alone amidst
thousands, and she alone perceived the start of agony that sight
occasioned, but speedily even that emotion passed; he looked from that
loved face up to the heaven on which his hopes were fixed, in whose care
for her he trusted--and that look was prayer. She saw him as he knelt in
prayer, undisturbed by the clang of instruments still kept up around
him; she saw him rise, and then a deadly sickness crept over her every
limb, a thick mist obscured her sight, sense seemed on the point of
deserting her, when it was recalled by a sound of horror--a shriek so
wild, so long, so thrilling, the rudest spirit midst those multitudes
shrunk back appalled, and crossed themselves in terror. On one ear it
fell with a sense of agony almost equal to that from whence it came; the
mother recognized the voice, and feeling, sight, hearing, as by an
electric spell, returned. She looked forth again, and though her eye
caught the noble form of Nigel Bruce yet quivering in the air, she
shrunk not, she sickened not, for its gaze sought her child; she had
disappeared from the place she had occupied. She saw the Earl of
Gloucester making a rapid way through the dispersing crowds, a sudden
gust blew aside his wrapping-cloak, the face of her child was exposed to
her view, there was a look of death upon her brow; and if the Earl of
Berwick had lingered to note whether indeed this scene of horror would
pass unnoticed, unfelt by his prisoner, he was gratified at length, for
Isabella of Buchan lay senseless on her prison floor.

CHAPTER XXVI.

"And she is in safety, Gilbert?" inquired the Princess Joan, the evening
of the day following the execution, lifting her eyes, swimming in tears,
to her husband's face. They were sitting alone in their private
apartments, secured from all intruders by a page stationed in the
ante-room; and the earl had been relating some important particulars of
the preceding day.

"I trust in heaven she is, and some miles ere now on her road to
Scotland," was his answer. "I fear for nothing save for the beautiful
mind that fragile shell contains; alas! my Joan, I fear me that has gone
forever!"

"Better, oh better, then, that faint