A score of men-at-arms approached from behind, and forced the young man back to his place.

“Bring in the Lady Sybilla,” said the marshal, still smiling, while the judges sat silent and afraid at the anger of one man.

And even while the Earl stood panting after his outburst of furious anger, they opened the door at the back of the dais and through it there entered the Lady Sybilla.  Instantly the eyes of William Douglas fixed themselves upon her, but she did not raise hers nor look at him.  She stood at the farther side at the edge of the dais, her hands joined in front of her, and her hair streamed down her back and fell in waves over her white dress.

An angel of light coming through the open door of heaven could not have appeared more innocent and pure.

The Marshal de Retz turned towards his sister-in-law, and, with his eyes fixed upon hers and with the same pitiless chill in them, he said in a low tone, “Look at me.”

The girl raised her eyes slowly, and, as it had been, reluctantly, and in them, instead of the meek calm of an angel, there appeared the terror and dismay of a lost soul that listens to its doom.

“Sybilla,” hissed rather than spoke de Retz, “is it true that ever since by the lakeside of Carlinwark you met the Earl of Douglas you have deceived him and sought his doom?”

“I care not to hear the answer,” said the young man, “even did I believe that which you by your power may compel her to say.  Unfaith in another is not unfaith in me.  I am bound to this lady in love and honour—­aye, even unto death, if that be her will!”

“I have, indeed, deceived him!” replied the girl, slowly, the words seeming to be forced from her one by one.

“You hear, William of Douglas!” said the marshal, turning upon the young man, who stood still and motionless, never taking his eyes off the slender figure in white.

The marshal continued his pitiless questioning.

“At Castle Thrieve you persuaded him to follow you to Crichton and afterwards to Edinburgh, knowing well that you brought him to his death.”

“It is true!” said the girl, with a voice like one speaking out of the grave itself.

“You hear, William of Douglas!” said the marshal.

“And at Castle Crichton you played the play to the end.  With false cozening words you deceived this young man.  You led him on with love on your lips and hate in your heart.  You kissed him with the Judas kiss.  You led his soul captive to death by the drawing of your eyes.”

In a voice that could hardly be heard the girl replied, her whole figure fixed and turned to stone by the intensity of her tormentor’s gaze.

"I did these things!  I am accursed!"

The ambassador turned with a fleering triumph.

“You hear, William of Douglas,” he said, “you hear what your true love says!”

Then it was that, with the calm air and steady voice of a great gentleman, William Douglas answered, “I hear, but I do not believe.”