‘A strange bridegroom!’ said Jaqueline; ’but maybe you do well to get her on what terms you can.  Do you agree, Monseigneur?’

In truth, Monseigneur may have been relieved that the trial of strength between him and his ward had thus terminated.  He was only anxious to have the matter concluded.

The agreement, binding Malcolm to accept a stated number of crowns in instalments, as the value of Esclairmonde’s lands, under the guarantee of the Duke of Burgundy and King James of Scotland, had all been long ago signed, sealed, and secured; and there was nothing to prevent the fiancailles, or espousals, from taking place at once.

It was a much more real ceremony than a mere betrothal, being, in fact, in the eye of the civil law a marriage, though the full blessing and the sacramental words of union were deferred for the completion of the rite.  It was the first part of the Marriage Service, binding the pair so indissolubly to one another, that neither could enter into wedlock with any one else as long as the other lived—­except, of course, by Papal dispensation; and in cases of stolen weddings, it was all that was deemed needful.

All therefore that remained to be done was, that the Bishop summoned his chaplain to serve as a witness and as scribe; and then the two young people, in their deep mourning dresses, standing before the Bishop, vowed to belong to none other than to one another, and the betrothal rings being produced, were placed on their fingers, and their hands were clasped.  Malcolm’s was steady, as he felt Esclairmonde’s rest in his untrembling, but with the quietness of one who trusted all in all where she trusted at all.

‘Poor children! they have all to learn,’ hilariously shouted the Countess.  ‘They have forgotten the kiss!’

‘Will you suffer it, my sister?’ said Malcolm, with burning cheeks.

‘My brother and my guardian!’ responded Esclairmonde, raising the white brow to his lips.

At that moment back went the door, and in flew Alice Montagu, crying aloud, ’Clairette! the Queen—­oh, Madame, your pardon! but I am sent for Esclairmonde.  The Queen is in worse fits than ever.  Sir Lewis can’t get the ring from her.  They think she will rave like her father presently!  Come!’

Esclairmonde could only hurry away at this; while Alice, grasping her hand, continued: 

’Oh, have they been persecuting you?  I dreaded it when I saw yon little wretch; but—­oh, Esclairmonde, what is this?’ in an utterly changed voice.

‘He holds my faith in trust.  He will restore it,’ said Esclairmonde, hurriedly.

But Lady Montagu spoke not another word; and, indeed, they were hard upon the English queen’s rooms, whence they already heard hysterical screams of passion.

Jaqueline had immediately set forth in the same direction out of curiosity; and Malcolm in much anxiety, since the mission that he had been cautioned to guard so jealously seemed in danger of being known everywhere.  He had himself been allowed to stand by the Queen’s bedside, and rehearse James’s message; but when he had further hinted of his being sent by Bedford to bring the ring, the Queen, perhaps at the mention of the brother-in-law, pouted, knew nothing of any ring, and supposed M. le Duc meant to strip her, a poor desolate widow, of all her jewels.