victuals.'
'Free me from these irons,' said the Prince, 'release me from this dungeon, and, dog as thou art, thou shalt be the richest man in Scotland.'
'If you would give me the weight of your shackles in gold,' said Bonthron, 'I would rather see the iron on you than have the treasure myself! But look up; you were wont to love delicate fare—behold how I have catered for you.'
The wretch, with fiendish glee, unfolded a piece of rawhide covering the bundle which he bore under' his arm, and, passing the light to and fro before it, showed the unhappy Prince a bull's head recently hewn from the trunk, and known in Scotland as the certain signal of death. He placed it at the foot of the bed, or rather lair, on which the Prince lay.
'Be moderate in your food,' he said; 'it is like to be long ere thou getst another meal.'
'Tell me but one thing, wretch,' said the Prince. 'Does Ramorny know of this practice?'
'How else hadst thou been decoyed hither? Poor woodcock, thou art snared!' answered the murderer.
With these words, the door shut, the bolts resounded, and the unhappy Prince was left to darkness, solitude, and misery. 'Oh, my father!—my prophetic father! The staff I leaned on has indeed proved a spear!'
We will not dwell on the subsequent hours, nay, days, of bodily agony and mental despair.
But it was not the pleasure of Heaven that so great a crime should be perpetrated with impunity.
Catharine Glover and the glee woman, neglected by the other inmates, who seemed to be engaged with the tidings of the Prince's illness, were, however, refused permission to leave the castle until it should be seen how this alarming disease was to terminate, and whether it was actually an infectious sickness. Forced on each other's society, the two desolate women became companions, if not friends; and the union drew somewhat closer when Catharine discovered that this was the same female minstrel on whose account Henry Wynd had fallen under her displeasure. She now heard his complete vindication, and listened with ardour to the praises which Louise heaped on her gallant protector. On the other hand, the minstrel, who felt the superiority of Catharine's station and character, willingly dwelt upon a theme which seemed to please her, and recorded her gratitude to the stout smith in the little song of 'Bold and True,' which was long a favourite in Scotland.
In short, though Louise's disreputable occupation would have been in other circumstances an objection to Catharine's voluntarily frequenting her company, yet, forced together as they now were, she found her a humble and accommodating companion.
They lived in this manner for four or five days, and, in order to avoid as much as possible the gaze, and perhaps the incivility, of the menials in the offices, they prepared their food in their own apartment. In the absolutely necessary intercourse with domestics, Louise, more accustomed to expedients, bolder by habit, and desirous to please Catharine, willingly took on herself the trouble of getting from the pantler the materials of their slender meal, and of arranging it with the dexterity of her country.
The glee woman had been abroad for this purpose upon the sixth day, a little before noon; and the desire of fresh air, or the hope to find some sallad or pot herbs, or at least an early flower or two, with which to deck their board, had carried her into the small garden appertaining to the castle. She re-entered her apartment in the tower with a countenance pale as ashes, and a frame which trembled like an aspen leaf. Her terror instantly extended itself to Catharine, who could hardly find words to ask what new misfortune had occurred.
'Is the Duke of Rothsay dead?'
'Worse! they are starving him alive.'
'Madness, woman!'
'No—no—no—no!' said Louise, speaking under her breath, and huddling her words so thick upon each other that Catharine could hardly catch the sense. 'I was seeking for flowers to dress your pottage, because you said you loved them yesterday; my poor little dog, thrusting himself into a thicket of yew and holly bushes that grow out of some old ruins close to the castle wall, came back whining and howling. I crept forward to see what might be the cause—and, oh! I heard a groaning as of one in extreme pain, but so faint, that it seemed to arise out of the very depth of the earth. At length, I found it proceeded from a small rent in the wall, covered with ivy; and when I laid my ear close to the opening, I could hear the Prince's voice distinctly say, 'It cannot now last long'—and then it sunk away in something like a prayer.'
'Gracious Heaven! did you speak to him?'
'I said, 'Is it you, my lord?' and the answer was, 'Who mocks me with that title?' I asked him if I could help him, and he answered with a voice I shall never forget, 'Food—food! I die of famine!' So I came hither to tell you. What is to be done? Shall we alarm the house?'
'Alas! that were more likely to destroy than to aid,' said Catharine.
'And what then shall we do?' said Louise.
'I know not yet,' said Catharine, prompt and bold on occasions of moment, though yielding to her companion in ingenuity of resource on ordinary occasions: 'I know not yet, but something we will do: the blood of Bruce shall not die unaided.'
So saying, she seized the small cruise which contained their soup, and the meat of which it was made, wrapped some thin cakes which she had baked into the fold of her plaid, and, beckoning her companion to follow with a vessel of milk, also part of their provisions, she hastened towards the garden.
'So, our fair vestal is stirring abroad?' said the only man she met, who was one of the menials; but Catharine passed on without notice or reply, and gained the little garden without farther interruption.
Louise indicated to her a heap of ruins, which, covered with underwood, was close to the castle wall. It had probably been originally a projection from the building; and the small fissure, which communicated with the dungeon, contrived for air, had terminated within it. But the aperture had been a little enlarged by decay, and admitted a dim ray of light to its recesses, although it could not be observed by those who visited the place with torchlight aids.
'Here is dead silence,' said Catharine, after she had listened attentively for a moment. 'Heaven and earth, he is gone!'
'We must risk something,' said her companion, and ran her fingers over the strings of her guitar.
A sigh was the only answer from the depth of the dungeon. Catharine then ventured to speak. 'I am here, my lord—I am here, with food and drink.'
'Ha! Ramorny! The jest comes too late; I am dying,' was the answer.
'His brain is turned, and no wonder,' thought Catharine; 'but whilst there is life, there may be hope.'
'It is I, my lord, Catharine Glover. I have food, if I could pass it safely to you.'
