“I could,” said Sir Duncan, his voice struggling between the emotions of doubt, hatred, and anxiety—­“I could—­but that I know thy race are like the Great Enemy, liars and murderers from the beginning—­but could it be true thou tellest me, I could almost forgive thee the injuries thou hast done me.”

“Hear it!” said Ranald; “he hath wagered deeply for a son of Diarmid—­And you, gentle Thane—­the report of the camp says, that you would purchase with life and lands the tidings that Annot Lyle was no daughter of proscription, but of a race noble in your estimation as your own—­Well—­It is for no love I tell you—­The time has been that I would have exchanged this secret against liberty; I am now bartering it for what is dearer than liberty or life.—­Annot Lyle is the youngest, the sole surviving child of the Knight of Ardenvohr, who alone was saved when all in his halls besides was given to blood and ashes.”

“Can this man speak truth?” said Annot Lyle, scarce knowing what she said; “or is this some strange delusion?”

“Maiden,” replied Ranald, “hadst thou dwelt longer with us, thou wouldst have better learnt to know how to distinguish the accents of truth.  To that Saxon lord, and to the Knight of Ardenvohr, I will yield such proofs of what I have spoken, that incredulity shall stand convinced.  Meantime, withdraw—­I loved thine infancy, I hate not thy youth—­no eye hates the rose in its blossom, though it groweth upon a thorn, and for thee only do I something regret what is soon to follow.  But he that would avenge him of his foe must not reck though the guiltless be engaged in the ruin.”

“He advises well, Annot,” said Lord Menteith; “in God’s name retire! if—­if there be aught in this, your meeting with Sir Duncan must be more prepared for both your sakes.”

“I will not part from my father, if I have found one!” said Annot—­“I will not part from him under circumstances so terrible.”

“And a father you shall ever find in me,” murmured Sir Duncan.

“Then,” said Menteith, “I will have MacEagh removed into an adjacent apartment, and will collect the evidence of his tale myself.  Sir Dugald Dalgetty will give me his attendance and assistance.”

“With pleasure, my lord,” answered Sir Dugald.—­“I will be your confessor, or assessor—­either or both.  No one can be so fit, for I had heard the whole story a month ago at Inverary castle—­but onslaughts like that of Ardenvohr confuse each other in my memory, which is besides occupied with matters of more importance.”

Upon hearing this frank declaration, which was made as they left the apartment with the wounded man, Lord Menteith darted upon Dalgetty a look of extreme anger and disdain, to which the self-conceit of the worthy commander rendered him totally insensible.

CHAPTER XXII.

     I am as free as nature first made man,
     Ere the base laws of servitude began,
     When wild in woods the noble savage ran. 
     —­Conquest of Granada