The man laughed scornfully.  “Boldly answered, fair one,” he said; “of a truth thou art a brave one.  I grieve such an office should descend upon me as the detention of so stout a heart; yet even so.  In King Edward’s name, you are my prisoner.”

“Your prisoner, and wherefore?” demanded the countess believing that calmness would be a better protection than any symptoms of fear.  “You are mistaken, good friend, I knew not Edward warred with women.”

“Prove my mistake, fair mistress, and I will crave your pardon,” replied the man, “We have certain intelligence that a party of Scottish rebels, their quondam king perhaps among them, are hidden in these mountains.  Give us trusty news of their movements, show us their track, and Edward will hold you in high favor, and grant liberty and rich presents in excuse of his servant’s too great vigilance.  Hearest thou, what is the track of these rebels—­what their movements?”

“Thou art a sorry fool, Murdock,” retorted another voice, ere the countess could reply, and hastily glancing around, she beheld herself surrounded by armed men; “a sorry fool, an thou wastest the precious darkness thus.  Is not one rank rebel sufficient, think you, to satisfy our lord? he will get intelligence enough out of her, be sure.  Isabella of Buchan is not fool enough to hold parley with such as we, rely on’t.”

A suppressed exclamation of exultation answered the utterance of that name, and without further parley the arms of the countess were strongly pinioned, and with the quickness of thought the man who had first spoken raised her in his arms, and bore her through the thickest brushwood and wildest crags in quite the contrary direction to the encampment; their movements accelerated by the fact that, ere her arms were confined, the countess, with admirable presence of mind, had raised to her lips a silver whistle attached to her girdle, and blown a shrill, distinct blast.  A moment sufficed to rudely tear it from her hand, and hurry her off as we have said; and when that call was answered, which it was as soon as the men scattered on the mountain sufficiently recognized the sound, they flung down their tools and sprung to the side whence it came, but there was no sign, no trace of her they sought; they scoured with lighted torches every mossy path or craggy slope, but in vain; places of concealment were too numerous, the darkness too intense, save just the space illumined by the torch, to permit success.  The trampling of horses announced the return of the king and his companions, ere their search was concluded; his bugle summoned the stragglers, and speedily the loss of the countess was ascertained, their fruitless search narrated, and anxiety and alarm spread over the minds of all.  The agony of the youthful Alan surpassed description, even the efforts of his sovereign failed to calm him.  Nor was the Bruce himself much less agitated.

“She did wrong, she did wrong,” he said, “to leave herself so long unguarded; yet who was there to commit this outrage?  There is some treachery here, which we must sift; we must not leave our noble countrywoman in the hands of these marauders.  Trust me, Alan, we shall recover her yet.”