So powerfully was he worked upon, that had it not been for the ill-restrained fury of Buchan, it was possible the subject would have been in the end peaceably dismissed; but on that earl’s reminding him of his royal word, the king commanded Gloucester to deliver up his charge to her rightful guardian, and all the past should be forgiven.  The earl quietly and respectfully replied he could not, for he knew not where she was.  Wrath gathered on Edward’s brow, and Buchan laid his hand on his sword; but neither the royal commands nor Buchan’s muttered threats and oaths of vengeance could elicit from Gloucester more than that she had set off to return to Scotland with an aged man, not three hours after the execution had taken place.  He had purposely avoided all inquiries as to their intended route, and therefore not any cross-questioning on the part of the king caused him to waver in the smallest point from his original tale, or afforded any evidence that he knew more than he said.

“Get thee to Sir Edward Cunningham, my Lord of Buchan, and bid him draw up a warrant for the detention and committal of these two persons wherever they may be,” the king said, “and away with thee, and a trusty troop, with all speed to Berwick.  Make inquiries of all who at that particular hour passed the gates, and be assured thou wilt find some clue.  Take men enough to scour the country in all directions; provide them with an exact description of the prisoners they seek, and tarry not, and thou wilt yet gain thy prize; living or dead, we resign all our right over her person to thee, and give thee power, as her father, to do with her what may please thee best.  Away with thee, my lord, and heaven speed thee!”

“My liege and father, oh, why hast thou done this?” exclaimed the princess, imploringly, as, with a low obeisance to the king and a gesture of triumph at the Earl of Gloucester, Buchan departed.  “Hath she not borne misery enough!”

“Nay, we do but our duty to our subjects in aiding fathers to repress rebellious children,” replied the king.  “Of a truth, fair dame of Gloucester, thy principles of filial duty seem somewhat as loose and light as those which counselled abetting, protecting, and concealing the partner of a traitor.  Wouldst have us refuse Buchan’s most fatherly desire?  Surely thou wouldst not part him from his child?”

“Forever and forever!” exclaimed the princess, fervently.  “Great God in heaven, that such a being should call that monster father, and owe him the duty of a child!  But, oh, thou dost but jest, my father; in mercy recall that warrant—­expose her not to wretchedness as this!”

“Peace,” replied the king, sternly.  “As thou valuest thine own and thy husband’s liberty and life, breathe not another syllable, speak not another word for her, or double misery shall be her portion.  We have shown enough of mercy in demanding no further punishment for that which ye have done, than that for ten days ye remain prisoners in your own apartments.  Answer not; we will have no more of this.”