“Be firm; be thy noble self,” she said.  “Forget not thou art a knight and soldier amid the patriots of Scotland.  And now a while, farewell.”

She extricated herself with some difficulty from his embrace; she paused not to gaze again upon the posture of overwhelming despondency in which he had sunk, but with a step quick and firm advanced to the door.

“Whither goest thou, madam?” demanded the earl fiercely.  “Bold as thou art, it is well to know thou art a prisoner, accused of high treason against King Edward.”

“I need not your lordship’s voice to give me such information,” she answered, proudly.  “Methinks these armed followers are all-sufficient evidence.  Guard me, aye, confine me with fetters an thou wilt, but in thy presence thou canst not force me to abide.”

“Bid a last farewell to thy son, then, proud minion,” he replied, with fiendish malignity; “for an ye part now, it is forever.  Ye see him not again.”

“Then be it so,” she rejoined; “we shall meet where falsehood and malignant hate can never harm us more,” and with a gesture of dignity, more irritating to the earl than the fiercest demonstration of passion, she passed the threshold.  A sign from Buchan surrounded her with guards, and by them she was conducted to a smaller apartment, which was first carefully examined as to any concealed means of escape, and then she was left alone, a strong guard stationed at the door.

The first few minutes after the disappearance of the countess were passed by her husband in rapidly striding up and down the room, by her son, in the same posture of mute and motionless anguish in which she had left him.  There is no need to define that suffering, his peculiar situation is all-sufficient to explain it.  Hurriedly securing the door from all intruders, the earl at length approached his son.

“Wouldst thou be free?” he said, abruptly.  “Methinks thou art young enough still to love liberty better than chains, and perchance death.  Speak, I tell thee; wouldst thou be free?”

“Free!” answered Alan, raising his head, with flashing eye and burning cheek; “would I be free?  Ask of the chained lion, the caged bird, and they will tell thee the greenwood and forest glade are better, dearer, even though the chain were gemmed, the prison gilded.  Would I be free?  Thou knowest that I would.”

“Swear, then, that thou wilt quit Scotland, and vow fealty to Edward; that never more will thy sword be raised save against the contemned and hated Bruce.  Be faithful but to me and to King Edward, and thou shalt be free.”

“Never!” answered Alan, proudly.  “Earl of Buchan, I accept no conditions with my freedom; I will not be free, if only on this base condition.  Turn recreant and traitor to my country and my king! resign the precious privilege of dying, if I may not live, for Scotland—­I tell thee, never!  Urge me no more.”