“The first danger over I must be guided by circumstances; but in any case Thekla must travel as a boy to the end of the journey, for in such troubled times as these it were unsafe indeed for a young girl to travel through Germany except under a strong escort of men-at-arms.  I design to make my way to Nuremberg, and shall then place her in the hands of my good friend Jans Boerhoff, whose wife and daughters will, I am sure, gladly receive and care for her until the time, which I hope is not far off, that peace be made and you can again rejoin her.”

“The plan is a good one,” the count said when Malcolm had concluded, “and offers every prospect of success. `Tis hazardous, but there is no escape from such a strait as ours without risk.  What say you, wife?”

“Assuredly I can think of nothing better.  But what say you, Thekla?  Are you ready to run the risks, the danger, and the hardships of such a journey under the protection only of this brave Scottish gentleman?”

“I am ready, mother,” Thekla said quickly, “but I wish —­ I wish” —­ and she hesitated.

“You wish you could go in your own garments, Thekla, with jewels on your fingers and a white horse to carry you on a pillion behind your protector,” the count said with a smile, for his spirits had risen with the hope of his daughter’s escape from the peril in which she was placed.  “It cannot be, Thekla.  Malcolm’s plan must be carried out to the letter, and I doubt not that you will pass well as a `prentice boy.  But your mother must cut off that long hair of yours; I will keep it, my child, and will stroke it often and often in my prison as I have done when it has been on your head; your hair may be long again before I next see you.”

His eyes filled with tears as he spoke, and Thekla and the countess both broke into a fit of crying.  Leaving them by themselves, Malcolm returned to his work, and in half an hour had replaced the machinery of the clock and had set it in motion, while a tender conversation went on between the count and countess and their daughter.  By this time the sun had set, and the attendant entered and lighted the candles in the apartment, saying, as she placed one on the table by Malcolm, “You must need a light for your work.”  No sooner had she left the room than Malcolm said: 

“I would not hurry your parting, countess, but the sooner we are off now the better.”

Without a word the countess rose, and, taking the clothes which Malcolm produced from his doublet, retired to her chamber, followed by Thekla.

“Malcolm Graheme,” the count said, “it may be that we shall not meet again.  The emperor is not tender with obstinate prisoners, and I have no strength to support long hardships.  Should aught happen to me I beseech you to watch over the happiness of my child.  Had she been a year older, and had you been willing, I would now have solemnly betrothed her to you, and should then have felt secure of her future whatever may befall me.  Methinks she will make a good wife, and though my estates may be forfeited by the emperor her mother’s lands will make a dowry such as many a German noble would gladly accept with his wife.