The young girl was not discomposed by this question, but answered in a firm, melancholy tone—­“Your Majesty, I fear, is too well acquainted with my unfortunate mother’s history.”

“Aweel, we winna deny having heard somewhat to her disadvantage,” replied the King—­“but your ain looks gang far to contradict the reports, fair maid.”

“Place no faith in them then, sire,” replied Alizon, sadly.

“Eh! what!—­then you admit your mother’s guilt?” cried the King, sharply.

“I neither admit it nor deny it, sire,” she replied.  “It must be for your Majesty to judge her.”

“Weel answered,” muttered James,—­“but I mustna forget, that the deil himsel’ can quote Scripture to serve his purpose.  But you hold in abhorrence the crime laid to your mother’s charge—­eh?” he added aloud.

“In utter abhorrence,” replied Alizon.

“Gude—­vera gude,” rejoined the King.  “But, entertaining this feeling, how conies it you screen so heinous an offender frae justice?  Nae natural feeling should be allowed to weigh in sic a case.”

“Nor should it, sire, with me,” replied Alizon—­“because I believe my poor mother’s eternal welfare would be best consulted if she underwent temporal punishment.  Neither is she herself anxious to avoid it.”

“Then why does she keep out of the way—­why does she not surrender herself?” cried the King.

“Because—­” and Alizon stopped.

“Because what?” demanded James.

“Pardon me, sire, I must decline answering further questions on the subject,” replied Alizon.  “Whatever concerns myself or my mother alone, I will state freely, but I cannot compromise others.”

“Aha! then there are others concerned in it?” cried James.  “We thought as much.  We will interrogate you further hereafter—­but a word mair.  We trust ye are devout, and constant in your religious exercises, damsel.”

“I will answer for that, sire,” interposed Sir Richard Assheton.  “Alizon’s whole time is spent in prayer for her unfortunate mother.  If there be a fault it is that she goes too far, and injures her health by her zeal.”

“A gude fault that, Sir Richard,” observed the King, approvingly.

“It beseems me not to speak of myself, sire,” said Alizon, “and I am loth to do so—­but I beseech your majesty to believe, that if my life might be offered as an atonement for my mother, I would freely yield it.”

“I’ gude faith she staggers me in my opinion,” muttered James, “and I maun look into the matter mair closely.  The lass is far different frae what I imagined her.  But the wiles o’ Satan arena to be comprehended, and he will put on the semblance of righteousness when seeking to beguile the righteous.  Aweel, damsel,” he added aloud, “ye speak feelingly and properly, and as a daughter should speak, and we respect your feelings—­provided they be sic as ye represent them.  And now dispose yourselves for the chase.”