“And who shall stay me?” cried Roderic.  “By the mass, but you speak bold words, Dame Elspeth!”

“I will stay you!” cried Elspeth.  “Your right arm shall wither, your eyes shall grow blind, your life’s blood shall turn to gall ere you touch a hair of Earl Kenric’s head!  Return whence you came, bold outlaw.  Go, ere it be too late.  Overmuch injury have you already done in this land of your fathers.  And do you hope to rule in Bute —­ do you believe that there is one man in all this land who would accept you as his lord and master, and who would pay homage to you, after the ills you have done?  Vain fool! be satisfied.  Turn back to your ships and ask of Heaven the forgiveness which no man on earth will now accord you!  Go, Roderic MacAlpin!”

“Miserable hag!” cried Roderic grasping his sword.  “And think you that I would lead my brave men away ere they have had their full revenge upon this stripling?  No, no!  Listen now, how they cry for his blood!  Hear how they cry out for the children whom you have spirited away!  Elspeth Blackfell, you know where those children are hidden, and by Saint Olaf you shall now tell me where they are, or I will drive my blade into your shrivelled carcase.  Tell me, I say!”

“My lord Roderic,” said Elspeth, looking at him with glittering eyes, “you have lost your own two children.  Do you still remember them?  Do you still remember their rosy cheeks, their sweet blue eyes, their golden hair?  Do you still hear the music of their laughter as they played among the pebbles on the beach?  Ah, it was a sad, sad day for you when they were taken from you, my lord.”

“A sad day indeed, Elspeth,” echoed the sea rover, mechanically sheathing his sword, and speaking in an altered voice that had a touch of tenderness in it.

“And yet,” added Elspeth, “there lives in Cowall one who might tell you what became of your little ones.”

“What?  You tell me this!  Who is that man?”

“On one condition shall you know,” said Elspeth.  “Take your men away from Bute, and no more seek to learn whither our women and children are gone.”

“Agreed,” said Roderic; “for, believe me, ’tis no wish of mine that the people of my own lands should suffer.  Tell me, who is this man?”

“When your followers are in their ships,” said Elspeth, “when you are taking up your anchors, then will I tell you, Lord Roderic.  And if you keep your word and leave us for a time in peace, most assuredly you shall yet learn more.”

Now Roderic, who was a man of iron, had yet one soft place in his heart, and that was ever touched when he thought of his lost children.  Doubtless Elspeth knew all this, and whether it was true or false that she could give him the word he wished, she at least succeeded in turning him away from St. Blane’s, and Kenric, half-wishing to take his sword and slay him where he stood, peeped above the wall where he and his men were intrenched and saw the pirate chief go up to his men and order them to turn back to Rothesay.