Roderic saw her eyes flash like two fierce fires.  He saw her weapon gleaming in the moon’s pale light.  With a wild cry of rage he caught her uplifted arm and arrested it.

“Deceitful witch,” he cried, “is it thus that you would help me?”

“Even so,” said Aasta the Fair.  “For now your last hour has come.  No mercy will I show you, base villain that you are!”

And then they struggled together in each other’s arms, swaying and panting, gripping and twisting, like two furious animals.  Aasta held him firmly with her left hand, burying her strong fingers in his thick throat.  But at last he freed himself and forced her back.  Then with fierce anger he caught her up in his arms and raised her from her feet, and carried her away.

Thereupon Aasta gave forth a loud and piercing cry that sounded far away in the keen winter air.

That cry was heard at the farther side of Loch Ascog, where, in the dingle of Lochly, Allan Redmain was walking northward towards Rothesay.  Allan thought at first that it was the cry of some imprisoned spirit in the mere; but again he heard it, and no longer doubted that it was a woman’s voice calling for help.  He ran back to the southern point of the lake, and searched in the growing darkness for a sign that might tell him what had happened.  Nothing could he see but the bare bleak land with its patches of frozen snow, the dark trees waving in the wind, and the still blue surface of the mere where the frost was swiftly congealing the water into transparent ice.  And then he thought that his ears had deceived him.

He went onward to Rothesay over the ever-hardening land.  The frost bit sharply.  Every stream of water shrank into itself in firm clear ice and grew silent.  Allan was full-blooded in his strong manhood, but when he reached the castle gates his fingers, toes, and ears were numb with the intense cold.

Before the blazing fire in the great hall he found Kenric with the Lady Adela and his own sister Ailsa.

Another also was there whose presence made Allan forget the cold.  This other was sweet Margery de Currie, the eldest daughter of brave Sir Piers.  She blushed as Allan entered, and made room beside her for him to sit down.  She took his hands in hers and chafed them into warmth, at which the Lady Adela smiled approval, thinking how brave a pair they made.

Presently the servitors entered and made ready the evening meal.  Allan rose and drew Kenric aside.

“Over at Kilmory two hours ago,” said he, “I learned bad news, my lord.”

“What news is that, Sir Allan?” asked Kenric.  “Is it that your builders refuse to work in this cold weather?  What matters it?  Have you not a good home here, where you can see your lady love every day?  Have patience, Allan; Margery will wait, and you will be wedded when the springtime comes, and when your castle will be better fitted to receive you —­”

“Nay, Kenric, ’tis not such matters as these that trouble me,” said Allan gravely.  “The news I speak of is that the rascal Roderic the Outlaw, has, as I believe, returned to Gigha.”