A spasm of joy passed over the countenance of the Lady Sybilla.  She half sprang towards her lover as if to clasp him in her arms.

But in the midst, between intent and act, she restrained herself.

“No, I am not worthy,” she said.  And again, and lower, like a lamentation, “I am not worthy!”

Then, while all watched eagerly, the marshal rose from his seat to his full height.

“Girl—­look at me!” he cried in a loud and terrible voice.  But Sybilla did not seem to hear him.

She was looking at the Earl, and her eyes were great and grey and vague.

“Listen, my true lord, and then hate me if you will,” she said; “listen, William of Douglas.  Never before have I found in all the world one man true to the core.  I did not believe that such an one lived.  Hear this and then turn from me in loathing.

“For the sake of this man’s life, forfeit ten times over” (she pointed, as she spoke, at the marshal), “to whom, by the powers of hell, my soul is bound, I came at the bidding of the King of France and of this man, my master, to compass the destruction of the Earl of Douglas.  Our King’s son desired his duchy, and promised to this man pardon for his evil deeds.  I came to satisfy them both.  On my guilty head be the punishment.  It is true that I cozened and led you on.  It is true that at Castle Thrieve I deceived you, knowing well that which would happen.  I knew to what you would follow me, and for the sake of the evil wrought by your fathers, I was glad.  But afterwards at Crichton, when, in the woods by the waterside, I told you that I loved you, I did not lie.  I did love you then.  And by God’s grace I do love you now—­yea, before all men I declare it.  Once for a season of glorious forgetting, all too brief, I was yours to love, now I am yours to hate and to despise.  I tried to save you, but though you had my warning you would not go back or forget me.  Now it is too late!”

As she spoke over the face of William Douglas there had come a glow—­the red blood flooding up and routing the white determined pallor of his cheek.

“My lady,” he answered her, gently, “be not grieved for a little thing that is past.  That you love me truly is enough.  I ask for no more, least of all for pity.  I have not lived long.  I have not had time allotted me wherein to do great things, but for your sake I can die as well as any!  You have given me of your love, and of the flower thereof.  I am glad.  That you have loved me was my crown of life.  Now it remains but to pay a little price soon paid, for a joy exceeding great.”

But the Chancellor had had enough of this.  He rose, and, stretching forth his hand towards the barrier, he said:  “William of Douglas, you and your brother are condemned to instant death as enemies of the King and his ministers.  Soldiers, do your duty.  Lead them forth to the block!”

And with these words he left the dais, followed by Sir Alexander Livingston.  The girl stood in the place whence she had spoken her last words.  Then, as the men-at-arms went shamefacedly to take the Earl by the arm, she suddenly threw herself across the platform, leaped lightly over the barrier, and fell into his arms.