CHAPTER XIX
In a circular apartment of the lower floor in Kildrummie keep, its stonefloor but ill covered with rushes, and the walls hung with the darkestand rudest arras, Sir Christopher Seaton reclined on a rough couch, inearnest converse with his brother-in-law, Nigel. Lady Seaton was alsowithin the chamber, at some little distance from the knights, engaged inpreparing lint and healing ointments, with the aid of an attendant, forthe wounded, and ready at the first call to rise and attend them, as shehad done unremittingly during the continuance of the siege. Thecountenances of both warriors were slightly changed from the last timewe beheld them. The severity of his wounds had shed a cast almost of ageon the noble features of Seaton, but care and deep regret had mingledwith that pallor; and perhaps on the face of Nigel, which three shortweeks before had beamed forth such radiant hope, the change was morepainful. He had escaped with but slight flesh wounds, but disappointmentand anxiety were now vividly impressed on his features; the smooth browwould unconsciously wrinkle in deep and unexpressed thought; the lip, towhich love, joy, and hope alone had once seemed natural, now oftencompressed, and his eye flashed, till his whole countenance seemedstern, not with the sternness of a tyrannical, changed and chafingmood--no, 'twas the sternness most fearful to behold in youth, ofthought, deep, bitter, whelming thought; and sterner even than it hadbeen yet was the expression on his features as he spoke this day withSeaton.
"He must die," were the words which broke a long and anxious pause, andfell in deep yet emphatic tones from the lips of Seaton; "yes, die!Perchance the example may best arrest the spreading contagion oftreachery around us."
"I know not, I fear not; yet as thou sayest he must die," replied Nigel,speaking as in deep thought; "would that the noble enemy, who thusscorned to benefit by the offered treason, had done on him the work ofdeath himself. I love not the necessity nor the deed."
"Yet it must be, Nigel. Is there aught else save death, the death of atraitor, which can sufficiently chastise a crime like this? Well was itthe knave craved speech of Hereford himself. I marvel whether themajesty of England had resisted a like temptation."
"Seaton, he would not," answered the young man. "I knew him, aye,studied him in his own court, and though I doubt not there was a timewhen chivalry was strongest in the breast of Edward, it was beforeambition's fatal poison had corroded his heart. Now he would deem allthings honorable in the art of war, aye, even the delivery of a castlethrough the treachery of a knave."
"And he hath more in yon host to think with him than with the nobleHereford," resumed Sir Christopher; "yet this is but idle parley, andconcerneth but little our present task. In what temper do our menreceive the tidings of this foul treason?"
"Our own brave fellows call aloud for vengeance on the traitor; nay, hadI not rescued him from their hands, they would have torn him limb fromlimb in their rage. But there are others, Seaton--alas! the morenumerous body now--and they speak not, but with moody brows and gloomymutterings prowl up and down the courts."
"Aye, the coward hearts," answered Seaton, "their good wishes went withhim, and but low-breathed curses follow our efforts for their freedom.Yes, it must be, if it be but as a warning unto others. See to it,Nigel; an hour before the set of sun he dies."
A brief pause followed his words, whose low sternness of tone betrayedfar more than the syllables themselves. Both warriors remained a whileplunged in moody thought, which Seaton was the first to break.
"And how went the last attack and defence?" he asked; "they told me,bravely."
"Aye, so bravely, that could we but reinforce our fighting men, aided aswe are by impenetrable walls, we might dream still of conquest; theyhave gained little as yet, despite their nearer approach. Hand to handwe have indeed struggled on the walls, and hurled back our foremost foesin their own intrenchments. Our huge fragments of rocks have dealtdestruction on one of their towers, crushing all who manned it beneaththe ruins."
"And I lie here when such brave work is going on beside me, even as abedridden monk or coward layman, when my whole soul is in the fight,"said the knight, bitterly, and half springing from his couch. "When willthese open wounds--to the foul fiend with them and those who gavethem!--when will they let me mount and ride again as best befits awarrior? Better slain at once than lie here a burden, not a help--takingfrom those whose gallant efforts need it more the food we may not havefor long. I will not thus be chained; I'll to the action, be my life theforfeit!"
He sprung up, and for a moment stood upon his feet, but with a low groanof pain instantly fell back, the dew of weakness gathering on his brow.Lady Seaton was at his side on the instant to bathe his temples and hishands, yet without one reproachful word, for she knew the anguish it wasto his brave heart to lie thus disabled, when every loyal hand wasneeded for his country.
"Nigel, I would that I might join thee. Remember, 'tis no mean game weplay; we hold not out as marauding chieftains against a lawful king; westruggle not in defence of petty rights, of doubtful privileges. 'Tisfor Scotland, for King Robert still we strive. Did this castle hold out,aye, compel the foe to raise the siege, much, much would be done forScotland. Others would do as we have done; many, whose strongholds restin English hands, would rise and expel the foe. Had we butreinforcements of men and stores, all might still be well."
"Aye," answered Nigel, bitterly, "but with all Scotland crushed 'neathEnglish chains, her king and his bold patriots fugitives and exiles,ourselves the only Scottish force in arms, the only Scottish castlewhich resists the tyrant, how may this be, whence may come increase offorce, of store? Seaton Seaton, thine are bright dreams--would that theywere real."
"Wouldst thou then give up at once, and strive no more? It cannot be."
"Never!" answered his companion, passionately. "Ere English feet shallcross these courts and English colors wave above these towers, the bloodof the defenders must flow beneath their steps. They gain not a yard ofearth save at the bright sword's point; not a rood of grass unstained byScottish blood. Give up! not till my arm can wield no sword, my voice nomore shout 'Forward for the Bruce!'"
"Then we will hope on, dream on, Nigel, and despair not," repliedSeaton, in the same earnest tone. "We know not yet what may be, and,improbable as it seems now, succors may yet arrive. How long doth lastthe truce?"
"For eighteen hours, two of which have passed."
"Didst thou demand it?"
"No," replied Nigel. "It was proffered by the earl, as needed for astrict examination of the traitor Evan Roy, and accepted in the spiritwith which it was offered."
"Thou didst well; and the foul traitor--where hast thou lodged him?"
"In the western turret, strongly guarded. I would not seek thy counseluntil I had examined and knew the truth."
"And thine own judgment?"
"Was as thine. It is an ill necessity, yet it must be."
"Didst pronounce his sentence?"
Nigel answered in the affirmative.
"And how was it received?"
"In the same sullen silence on the part of the criminal as he had borneduring his examination. Methought a low murmur of discontent escapedfrom some within the hall, but it was drowned in the shout ofapprobation from the men-at-arms, and the execrations they lavished onthe traitor as they bore him away, so I heeded it not."
"But thou wilt heed it," said a sweet voice beside him, and Agnes, whohad just entered the chamber, laid her hand on his arm and lookedbeseechingly in his face. "Dearest Nigel, I come a pleader."
"And for whom, my beloved?" he asked, his countenance changing into itsown soft beautiful expression as he gazed on her, "What can mine Agnesask that Nigel may not grant?"
"Nay, I am no pleader for myself," she said; "I come on the part of awretched wife and aged mother, beseeching the gift of life."
"And for a traitor, Agnes?"
"I think of him but as a husband and son, dearest Nigel," she said, moretimidly, for his voice was stern. "They tell me he is condemned todeath, and his wretched wife and mother be
sought my influence with thee;and indeed it needed little entreaty, for when death is so busy aroundus, when in this fearful war we see the best and bravest of our friendsfall victims every day, oh, I would beseech you to spare life when itmay be. Dearest, dearest Nigel, have mercy on this wretched man; traitoras he is, oh, do not take his life--do not let thy lips sentence him todeath. Wilt thou not be merciful?"
"If the death of one man will preserve the lives of many, how may thatone be spared?" said Sir Nigel, folding the sweet pleader closer to him,though his features spoke no relaxation of his purpose. "Sweet Agnes, donot ask this, give me not the bitter pain of refusing aught to thee.Thou knowest not all the mischief and misery which pardon to a traitorsuch as this will do; thou listenest only to thy kind heart and the sadpleadings of those who love this man. Now listen to me, beloved, andjudge thyself. Did I believe a pardon would bring back the traitor to asense of duty, to a consciousness of his great crime--did I believegiving life to him would deter others from the same guilt, I shouldscarce wait even for thy sweet pleading to give him both liberty andlife; but I know him better than thou, mine Agnes. He is one of thosedark, discontented, rebellious spirits, that never rest in stirring upothers to be like them; who would employ even the life I gave him to myown destruction, and that of the brave and faithful soldiers with me."
"But send him hence, dearest Nigel," still entreated Agnes. "Give himlife, but send him from the castle; will not this remove the danger ofhis influence with others?"
"And give him field and scope to betray us yet again, sweet one. It wereindeed scorning the honorable counsel of Hereford to act thus; for trustme, Agnes, there are not many amid our foes would resist temptation ashe 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 thesewalls who need an example of terror to keep them to their duty. Theywill 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 Iimagine, in league with other contentious spirits--for he could scarcehope to betray the castle into the hands of the English without some aidwithin--his fate may strike such terror into other traitor hearts thattheir designs will be abandoned. Trust me, dearest, I do not do thisdeed of justice without deep regret; I grieve for the necessity even asthe 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 cannotanswer such arguments as thine; yet may it not be that this deed ofjustice, even while it strikes terror, may also excite the desire forrevenge, and situated as we are were it not better to avoid all suchbitterness, such heart-burnings amongst the people?"
"We must brave it, dearest," answered Nigel, firmly, "The direct line ofjustice 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 wewould do aught to pleasure thee, this that thou hast asked, alas! mustnot be. The crime itself demands punishment, and even could we pardonthat, duty to our country, our king, ourselves, calls loudly for hisdeath, lest his foul treachery should spread."
The eyes of the maiden filled with tears.
"Then my last hope is over," she said, sadly. "I looked to thyinfluence, Sir Christopher, to plead for me, even if mine ownsupplications should fail; and thou judgest even as Nigel, not as myheart could wish."
"We judge as men and soldiers, gentle maiden; as men who, charged with amost solemn responsibility, dare listen to naught save the voice ofjustice, however loudly mercy pleads."
"And didst thou think, mine Agnes, if thy pleading was of no avail, theentreaty of others could move me?" whispered Nigel, in a voice which,though tender, was reproachful. "Dearest and best, oh, thou knowest notthe pang it is to refuse thee even this, and to feel my words havefilled those eyes with tears. Say thou wilt not deem me cruel, abidingby 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 thisdecision, and I may not dispute it; yet would that death could beaverted. There was madness in that woman's eyes," and she shuddered asshe spoke.
"Of whom speakest thou, love?" Nigel asked, and Seaton looked thequestion.
"Of his wife," she replied. "She came to me distracted, and used suchdreadful words, menaces and threats they seemed; but his mother, morecomposed, assured me they meant nothing, they were but the ravings ofdistress, 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 suchas thee. Rest here with Christine and good Sir Christopher; to tend andcheer a wounded knight is a fitter task for thee, sweet one, than thusto plead a traitor's cause."
Pressing his lips upon her brow as he spoke, he placed her gently on asettle by Sir Christopher; then crossing the apartment, he paused amoment to whisper to Lady Seaton.
"Look to her, my dear sister; she has been terrified, though she wouldconceal it. Let her not leave thee till this fatal duty isaccomplished."
Lady Seaton assured him of her compliance, and he left the apartment.
He had scarcely quitted the postern before he himself encountered JeanRoy, a woman who, even in her mildest moments, evinced very littleappearance of sanity, and who now, from her furious and distractinggestures, seemed wrought up to no ordinary pitch of madness. She kepthovering round him, uttering menaces and entreaties in one and the samebreath, declaring one moment that her husband was no traitor, and hadonly done what every true-hearted Scotsman ought to do, if he would savehimself and those he loved from destruction; the next, piteouslyacknowledging his crime, and wildly beseeching mercy. For a while Nigelendeavored, calmly and soothingly, to reason with her, but it was of noavail: louder and fiercer became her curses and imprecations; beseechingheaven to hurl down all its maledictions upon him and the woman heloved, and refuse him mercy when he most needed it. Perceiving herviolence becoming more and more outrageous, Nigel placed her in chargeof two of his men-at-arms, desiring them to treat her kindly, but not tolose sight of her, and keep her as far as possible from the scene aboutto be enacted. She was dragged away, struggling furiously, and Nigelfelt his heart sink heavier within him. It was not that he wavered inhis opinion, that he believed, situated as he was, it was better tospare the traitor's life than excite to a flame the already aroused andangered populace. He thought indeed terror might do much; but whether itwas the entreating words of Agnes, or the state of the unhappy Jean,there had come upon him a dim sense of impending ill; an impression thatthe act of justice about to be performed would bring matters to acrisis, and the ruin of the garrison be consummated, ere he was aware ithad begun. The shadow of the future appeared to have enfolded him, butstill he wavered not. The hours sped: his preparations were completed,and at the time appointed by Seaton, with as much of awful solemnity ascircumstances would admit, the soul of the traitor was launched intoeternity. Men, women, and children had gathered round the temporaryscaffold; every one within the castle, save the maimed and wounded,thronged to that centre court, and cheers and shouts, and groans andcurses, mingled strangely on the air.
Clad in complete steel, but bareheaded, Sir Nigel Bruce had witnessedthe act of justice his voice had pronounced, and, after a brief pause,he stood forward on the scaffold, and in a deep, rich voice addressedthe multitude ere they separated. Eloquently, forcibly, he spoke of theguilt, the foul guilt of treachery, now when Scotland demanded all mento join together hand and heart as one--now when the foe was at theirgates; when, if united, they might yet bid defiance to the tyrant, who,if they were defeated, would hold them slaves. He addressed them asScottish men and freemen, as soldiers, husbands, and fathers, aschildren of the brave, who welcomed death with joy, rather than life i
nslavery and degradation; and when his words elicited a shout ofexultation and applause from the greater number, he turned his eye onthe group of malcontents, and sternly and terribly bade them beware of afate similar to that which they had just witnessed; for the gallant Earlof Hereford, he said, would deal with all Scottish traitors as with EvanRoy, and once known as traitors within the castle walls, he need notspeak their doom, for they had witnessed it; and then changing his tone,frankly and beseechingly he conjured them to awake from the dull,sluggish sleep of indifference and fear, to put forth their energies asmen, as warriors; their country, their king, their families, called onthem, and would they not hear? He bade them arise, awake to their duty,and all that had been should never be recalled. He spoke with a briefyet mighty eloquence that seemed to carry conviction with it. Many astern face and darkened brow relaxed, and there was hope in many apatriot breast as that group dispersed, and all was once more martialbustle on the walls.
"Well and wisely hast thou spoken, my son," said the aged Abbot ofScone, who had attended the criminal's last moments, and now, withNigel, sought the keep. "Thy words have moved those rebellious spirits,have calmed the rising tempest even as oil flung on the troubled waves;thine eloquence was even as an angel voice 'mid muttering fiends. Yetthou art still sad, still anxious. My son, this should not be."
"It _must_ be, father," answered the young man. "I have looked beyondthat oily surface and see naught save darker storms and fiercertempests; those spirits need somewhat more than a mere voice. Father,reproach me not as mistrusting the gracious heaven in whose keeping lieour earthly fates. I know the battle is not to the strong, 'tis with theunited, the faithful, and those men are neither. My words have stirredthem for the moment, as a pebble flung 'mid the troubled waters--a fewbrief instants and all trace is passed, we see naught but the blackenedwave. But speak not of these things; my trust is higher than earth, andlet man work his will."
Another week passed, and the fierce struggle continued, alternatingsuccess, one day with the besiegers, the next with the besieged. Thescene of action was now principally on the walls--a fearful field, forthere was no retreat--and often the combatants, entwined in a deadlystruggle, fell together into the moat. Still there were no signs ofwavering on either side, still did the massive walls give no sign ofyielding to the tremendous and continued discharge of heavy stones, thatagainst battlements less strongly constructed must long ere this havedealt destruction and inevitable mischief to the besieged. One tower,commanding the causeway across the moat and its adjoining platform onthe wall, had indeed been taken by the English, and was to them adecided advantage, but still their further progress even to the nexttower was lingering and dubious, and it appeared evident to both partiesthat, from the utter impossibility of the Scotch obtaining supplies ofprovision and men, success must finally attend the English; they wouldsucceed more by the effects of famine than by their swords.
It was, as we have said, seven days after the execution of the traitorRoy. A truce for twelve hours had been concluded with the English, atthe request of Sir Nigel Bruce, and safe conduct granted by the Earl ofHereford to those men, women, and children of the adjoining villages whochose even at this hour to leave the castle, but few, a very few tookadvantage of this permission, and these were mostly the widows andchildren of those who had fallen in the siege; a fact which caused somesurprise, as the officers and men-at-arms imagined it would have beeneagerly seized upon by all those contentious spirits who had appeared sodesirous of a league with England. A quiet smile slightly curled thelips of Nigel as this information was reported to him--a smile as of amind prepared for and not surprised at what he heard; but when leftalone, the smile was gone, he folded his arms on his breast, his headwas slightly bent forward, but had there been any present to haveremarked him, they would have seen his features move and work with theintensity of internal emotion. Some mighty struggle he was enduring;something there was passing at his very heart, for when recalled fromthat trance by the heavy bell of the adjoining church chiming the hourof five, and he looked up, there were large drops of moisture on hisbrow, and his beautiful eye seemed for the moment strained andblood-shot. He paced the chamber slowly and pensively till there was nooutward mark of agitation, and then he sought for Agnes.
She was alone in an upper chamber of the keep, looking out from thenarrow casement on a scene of hill and vale, and water, which, thoughstill wintry from the total absence of leaf and flower, was yet calm andbeautiful in the declining sun, and undisturbed by the fearful scenesand sounds which met the glance and ear on every other side, seemed evenas a paradise of peace. It had been one of those mild, soft days ofFebruary, still more rare in Scotland than in England, and on the heartand sinking frame of Agnes its influence had fallen, till, almostunconsciously, she wept. The step of Nigel caused her hastily to dashthese tears aside, and as he stood by her and silently folded his armaround her, she looked up in his face with a smile. He sought to returnit, but the sight of such emotion, trifling as it was, caused his heartto sink with indescribable fear; his lip quivered, as utterly to preventthe words he sought to speak, and as he clasped her to his bosom andbent his head on hers, a low yet instantly suppressed moan burst fromhim.
"Nigel, dearest Nigel, what has chanced? Oh, speak to me!" sheexclaimed, clasping his hand in both hers, and gazing wildly in hisface. "Thou art wounded or ill, or wearied unto death. Oh, let me undothis heavy armor, dearest; seek but a brief interval of rest. Speak tome, I know thou art not well."
"It is but folly, my beloved, a momentary pang that weakness caused.Indeed, thy fears are causeless; I am well, quite well," he answered,struggling with himself, and subduing with an effort his emotion. "Mineown Agnes, thou wilt not doubt me; look not upon me so tearfully, 'tispassed, 'tis over now."
"And thou wilt not tell me that which caused it, Nigel? Hast thou aughtof suffering which thou fearest to tell thine Agnes? Oh! do not fear it;weak, childlike as I am, my soul will find strength for it."
"And thou shalt know all, all in a brief while," he said, her sweetpleading voice rendering the task of calmness more difficult. "Yet tellme first thy thoughts, my love. Methought thy gaze was on yon peacefullandscape as I entered, and yet thine eyes were dimmed with tears."
"And yet I know not wherefore," she replied, "save the yearnings forpeace were stronger, deeper than they should be, and I pictured a cotwhere love might dwell in yon calm valley, and wished that this fiercestrife was o'er."
"'Tis in truth no scene for thee, mine own. I know, I feel thou pinestfor freedom, for the fresh, pure, stainless air of the mountain, thevalley's holy calm; thine ear is sick with the fell sounds that burstupon it; thine eye must turn in loathing from this fierce strife. Agnes,mine own Agnes, is it not so? would it not be happiness, aye, heaven'sown bliss, to seek some peaceful home far, far away from this?"
He spoke hurriedly and more passionately than was his wont, but Agnesonly answered--
"With thee, Nigel, it were bliss indeed."
"With me," he said; "and couldst thou not be happy were I not at thyside? Listen to me, beloved," and his voice became as solemnly earnestas it had previously been hurried. "I sought thee, armed I thought withfortitude sufficient for the task; sought thee, to beseech, implore theeto seek safety and peace for a brief while apart from me, till thesefearful scenes are passed. Start not, and oh, do not look upon me thus.I know all that strength of nerve, of soul, which bids thee care not forthe dangers round thee. I know that where I am thy loving spirit feelsno fear; but oh, Agnes, for my sake, if not for thine own, consent tofly ere it be too late; consent to seek safety far from this fataltower. Let me not feel that on thee, on thee, far dearer than my life,destruction, and misery, and suffering in a thousand fearful shapes mayfall. Let me but feel thee safe, far from this terrible scene, and then,come what will, it can have no pang."
"And thee," murmured the startled girl, on whose ear the words of Nigelhad fallen as with scarce half their meaning, "thee, wouldst thou bid meleave thee, to striv
e on, suffer on, and oh, merciful heaven! perchancefall _alone_? Nigel, Nigel, how may this be? are we not one, only one,and how may I dwell in safety without thee--how mayest thou sufferwithout me?"
"Dearest and best!" he answered, passionately, "oh, that we were indeedone; that the voice of heaven had bound us one, long, long ere this! andyet--no, no, 'tis better thus," and again he struggled with emotion, andspoke calmly. "Agnes, beloved, precious as thou art in these hours ofanxiety, dear, dearer than ever, in thy clinging, changeless love, yettempt me not selfishly to retain thee by my side, when liberty, andlife, and joy await thee beyond these fated walls. Thy path is secured;all that can assist, can accelerate thy flight waits but thy approval.The dress of a minstrel boy is procured, and will completely conceal andguard thee through the English camp. Our faithful friend, the minstrelseer, will be thy guide, and lead thee to a home of peace and safety,until my brother's happier fortune dawns; he will guard and love theefor thine own and for my sake. Speak to me, beloved; thou knowest thisgood old man, and I so trust him that I have no fear for thee. Oh, donot pause, and ere this truce be over let me, let me feel that thou artsafe and free, and may in time be happy."
"In time," she repeated slowly, as if to herself, and then, rousingherself from that stupor of emotion, looked up with a countenance onwhich a sudden glow had spread. "And why hast thou so suddenly resolvedon this?" she asked, calmly; "why shouldst thou fear for me more nowthan hitherto, dearest Nigel? Hath not the danger always been the same,and yet thou ne'er hast breathed of parting? are not thy hopes thesame--what hath chanced unknown to me, that thou speakest and lookestthus? tell me, ere thou urgest more."
"I will tell thee what I fear, my love," he answered, reassured by herfirmness; "much that is seen not, guessed not by my comrades. They weresatisfied that my appeal had had its effect, and the execution of EvanRoy was attended with no disturbance, no ill will amongst those supposedto be of his party--nay, that terror did its work, and all ideas oftreachery which might have been before encouraged were dismissed. I,too, believed this, Agnes, for a while; but a few brief hours weresufficient to prove the utter fallacy of the dream. Some secretconspiracy is, I am convinced, carrying on within these very walls. Iknow and feel this, and yet so cautious, so secret are their movements,whatever they may be, that I cannot guard against them. There are, asthou knowest, fewer true fighting men amongst us than any other class,and these are needed to man the walls and guard against the foe without;they may not be spared to watch as spies their comrades--nay, I dare noteven breathe such thoughts, lest their bold hearts should faint andfail, and they too demand surrender ere evil come upon us from within.What will be that evil I know not, and therefore cannot guard againstit. I dare not employ these men upon the walls, I dare not bring themout against the foe, for so bitterly do I mistrust them, I should feareven then they would betray us. I only know that evil awaits us, andtherefore, my beloved, I do beseech thee, tarry not till it be upon us;depart while thy path is free."
"Yet if they sought safety and peace, if they tire of this warfare," shereplied, disregarding his last words, "wherefore not depart to-day, whenegress was permitted; bethink thee, dearest Nigel, is not this proof thyfears are ill founded, and that no further ill hangs over us than thatwhich threatens from without?"
"Alas! no," he said, "it but confirms my suspicions; I obtained thissafe conduct expressly to nullify or confirm them. Had they departed asI wished, all would have been well; but they linger, and I can feeltheir plans are maturing, and therefore they will not depart. Oh,Agnes," he continued, bitterly, "my very soul is crushed beneath thisweight of unexpressed anxiety and care. Had I but to contend with ourEnglish foe, but to fight a good and honorable fight, to struggle on,conscious that to the last gasp the brave inmates of this fortress wouldfollow me, and Edward would find naught on which to wreak his vengeancebut the dead bodies of his foes, my task were easy as 'twere glorious;but to be conscious of secret brooding evil each morn that rises, eachnight that falls, to dread what yet I know not, to see, perchance, mybrave fellows whelmed, chained, through a base treachery impossible toguard against--oh! Agnes, 'tis this I fear."
"Yet have they not seemed more willing, more active in their assignedtasks since the execution of their comrade," continued Agnes, with all awoman's gentle artifice, still seeking to impart hope, even when shefelt that none remained; "may it not be that, in reality, they repentthem of former traitorous designs, and remain behind to aid thee to thelast? Thou sayest that palpable proof of this brooding evil thou canstnot find, then do not heed its voice. Let no fear of me, of my safety,add its pang; mine own Nigel, indeed I fear them not."
"I know that all I urge will naught avail with thee, beloved," heanswered, somewhat less agitated. "I know thy gentle love is all toodeep, too pure, too strong, to share my fears for thee, and oh, I blessthee, bless thee for the sweet solace of that faithful love! yet, yet, Imay not listen to thy wishes. All that thou sayest is but confirmationof the brooding evil; they are active, willing, but to hide their darkdesigns. Yet even were there not this evil to dread, no dream oftreachery, still, still, I would send thee hence, sweet one. Famine andblood, and chains, and death--oh, 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 wasfast 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, clingnot to a withered stem, thou mayest be happy yet."
"And wilt thou join me, if I seek this home of safety, Nigel?" she laidher hand on his arm, and fixed her eyes unflinchingly upon his face. Hecould not meet that glance, a cold shudder passed over his frame ere hecould reply.
"Mine own Agnes," and even then he paused, for his quivering lip couldnot give utterance to his thoughts, and a minute rolled in that deepstillness, and still those anxious eyes moved not from his face. Atlength voice returned, and it was sad yet deeply solemn, "Our lives restnot in our own hands," he said; "and who when they part may look to meetagain? 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 momentcome; 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 happyonce again."
There was a moment's pause; the features of Agnes had become convulsedwith agony as Nigel spoke, and her hands had closed with fearfulpressure 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 suddenfailing 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 ifchains and death stood frowningly beside. I will not leave thee; whomhave I beside thee, for whom else wouldst thou call on me to live?Alone, alone, utterly alone, save _thee_! Wilt thou bid me hence, andleave thee to meet thy fate alone--thee, to whom my mother gaveme--thee, without whom my very life is naught? Nigel, oh, despise me notfor these wild words, unmaidenly as they sound; oh, let me speak them,or my heart will break!"
"Despise thee for these blessed words!" Nigel answered, passionately, ashe raised her from the ground, and clasped her to his heart. "Oh, thouknowest not the bliss they give; yet, yet would I speak of parting,implore thee still to leave me, aye, though in that parting my veryheart-strings snap. Agnes, how may I bear to see thee in the power ofthe foe, perchance insulted, persecuted, tortured with the ribalda
dmiration of the rude crowd, and feel I have no power to save thee, noclaim to bind thee to my side. What are the mere chains of love in suchan hour, abiding by me, as thou mightst, till our last hope is over, andEnglish colors wave above this fortress--then, dearest, oh, must we not,shall we not be rudely parted?"
"No, no! Who shall dare to part us?" she said, as she clung sobbing tohis breast. "Who shall dare to do this thing, and say I may not tendthee, follow thee, even until death?"
"Who? our captors, dearest. Thinkest thou they will heed thy tenderlove, thine anguish? will they have hearts for aught save for thyloveliness, sweet one? Think, think of terrors like to this, and oh,still wilt thou refuse to fly?"
"But thy sister, the Lady Seaton, Nigel, doth she not stay, doth she notbrave these perils?" asked Agnes, shuddering at her lover's words, yetclinging to him still. "If she escapes such evil, why, oh, why may notI?"
"She is Seaton's wife, sweet one, bound to him by the voice of heaven,by the holiest of ties; the noble knights who head our foes will protecther in all honorable keeping; but for thee, Agnes, even if the ills Idread be as naught, there is yet one I have dared not name, lest itshould pain thee, yet one that is most probable as 'tis most fearful;thou canst not hide thy name, and as a daughter of Buchan, oh, will theynot give thee to a father's keeping?"
"The murderer of my brother--my mother's jailer! Oh, Nigel, Nigel, tolook on him were more than death!" she wildly exclaimed. "Yet, yet onceknown as Agnes of Buchan, this will, this must be; but leave thee now,leave thee to a tyrant's doom, if indeed, indeed thou fallest in hishands--leave thee, when faithful love and woman's tenderness are morethan ever needed--leave thee for a fear like this, no, no, I will not.Nigel, I will rest with thee. Speak not, answer not; give us one shortmoment, and then--oh, all the ills may be averted by one brief word--andI, oh, can I speak it?" She paused in fearful agitation, and every limbshook as if she must have fallen; the blood rushed up to cheek, andbrow, and neck, as, fixing her beautiful eyes on Nigel's face, she said,in a low yet thrilling voice, "Let the voice of heaven hallow the vowswe have so often spoken, Nigel. Give me a right, a sacred right to bearthy name, to be thine own, at the altar's foot, by the holy abbot'sblessing. Let us pledge our troth, and then let what will come, no mancan part us. I am thine, only thine!"
Without waiting for a reply, she buried her face in his bosom, and Nigelcould feel her heart throb as if 'twould burst its bounds, her framequiver as if the torrent of blood, checked and stayed to give strengthfor the effort, now rushed back with such overwhelming force through itsvaried channels as to threaten life itself.
"Agnes, my own noble, self-devoted love! oh, how may I answer thee?" hecried, tears of strong emotion coursing down his cheek--tears, and thewarrior felt no shame. "How have I been deserving of love like this--howmay I repay it? how bless thee for such words? Mine own, mine own! thiswould indeed guard thee from the most dreaded ills; yet how may I linkthat self-devoted heart to one whose thread of life is well-nigh spun?how may I make thee mine, when a few brief weeks of misery and horrormust part us, and on earth, forever?"
"No, no; thou knowest not all a wife may do, my Nigel," she said, as sheraised her head from his bosom, and faintly smiled, though her framestill shook; "how she may plead even with a tyrant, and find mercy; orif this fail, how she may open iron gates and break through bonds, tillfreedom may be found. Oh, no, we shall not wed to part, beloved; butlive and yet be happy, doubt it not; and then, oh, then forget the wordsthat joined us, made us one, had birth from other lips than thine;--thouwilt forget, forgive this, Nigel?"
"Forget--forgive! that to thy pure, unselfish soul I owe the bliss whiche'en at this hour I feel," he answered, passionately kissing thebeautiful brow upturned to his; "forget words that have proved--had Ineeded proof--how purely, nobly, faithfully I am beloved; how utterly,how wholly thou hast forgotten all of self for me! No, no! were thywords proved true, might I indeed live blessed with thee the lifeallotted man, each year, each month I would recall this hour, and blessthee for its love. But oh, it may not be!" and his voice so suddenlylost its impassioned fervor, that the breast of Agnes filled with newalarm. "Dearest, best! thou must not dream of life, of happiness withme. I may not mock thee with such blessed, but, alas! delusive hopes; mydoom hath gone forth, revealed when I knew it not, confirmed by thatvisioned seer but few short weeks ago. Agnes, my noble Agnes, whereforeshouldst thou wed with death? I know that I must die!"
The solemn earnestness of his words chased the still lingering glow fromthe lips and cheek of the maiden, and a cold shiver passed through herframe, but still she clung to him, and said--
"It matters not; my maiden love, my maiden troth is pledged to thee--inlife or in death I am thine alone. I will not leave thee," she said,firmly and calmly. "Nigel, if it be indeed as thou sayest, thataffliction, and--and all thou hast spoken, must befall thee, the moreneed is there for the sustaining and the soothing comfort of a woman'slove. Fear not for me, weak as I may have seemed, there is yet a spiritin me worthy of thy love. I will not unman thee for all thou mayestencounter. No, even if I follow thee to--to death, it shall be as aBruce's wife. Ask not how I will contrive to abide by thee undiscovered,when, if it must be, the foe is triumphant; it will take time, and wehave none to lose. Thou hast promised to forget all I have urged, all,save my love for thee; then, oh, fear me not, doubt me not, thine Agneswill not fail thee!"
Nigel gazed at her almost with surprise; she was no longer the gentletimid being who but a few minutes since had clung weeping to his bosomas a child. She was indeed very pale, and on her features was thestillness of marble; but she stood erect and unfaltering in her innocentloveliness, sustained by that mighty spirit which dwelt within. Anemotion of deep reverence took possession of that warrior heart, andunable to resist the impulse, he bent his knee before her.
"Then let it be so," he said, solemnly, but oh, how fervently. "I willnot torture mine own heart and thine by conjuring thee to fly; and now,here, at thy feet, Agnes, noble, generous being, let me swear solemnly,sacredly swear, that should life be preserved to me longer than I nowdream of, should I indeed be spared to lavish on thee all a husband'slove and care, never, never shalt thou have cause to regret this day! tomourn thy faithful love was shown as it hath been--to weep the hourthat, in the midst of danger, and darkness, and woe, hath joined ourearthly fates, and made us one. And now," he continued, rising andfolding her once more in his arms, "wilt thou meet me at the altar erethe truce concludes? 'tis but a brief while, a very brief while, mylove; yet if it can be, I know thou wilt not shrink."
"I will not," she answered. "The hour thou namest I will meet thee. LadySeaton," she added, slightly faltering, and the vivid blush rose to hertemples, "I would see her, speak with her; yet--"
"She shall come to thee, mine own, prepared to love and hail theesister, as she hath long done. She will not blame thee dearest; sheloves, hath loved too faithfully herself. Fear not, I will leave naughtfor thee to tell that can bid that cheek glow as it doth now. She, too,will bless thee for thy love."
He imprinted a fervent kiss on her cheek, and hastily left her. Agnesremained standing as he had left her for several minutes, her handstightly clasped, her whole soul speaking in her beautiful features, andthen she sunk on her knees before a rudely-carved image of the Virginand child, and prayed long and fervently. She did not weep, her spirithad been too painfully excited for such relief, but so wrapt was she indevotion, she knew not that Lady Seaton, with a countenance beaming inadmiration and love, stood beside her, till she spoke.
"Rouse thee, my gentle one," she said, tenderly, as she twined her armcaressingly around her; "I may not let thee linger longer even here, fortime passes only too quickly, and I shall have but little time to attiremy beautiful bride for the altar. Nigel hath been telling such a tale ofwoman's love, that my good lord hath vowed, despite his weakness and hiswounds, none else shall lead thee to the altar, and give thee to mybrother, save himself. I knew that not even Nigel's influence would bidthe
e leave us, dearest," she continued, as Agnes hid her face in herbosom, "but I dreamed not such a spirit dwelt within this childlikeheart, sweet one; thy lot must surely be for joy!"