Gregory watched the rapid and changing
hues alternating on her cheek. She saw the full extent of the emergency;
and, though her father was the traitor, she hesitated not in that trying
moment.
No time was to be lost, and measures were immediately taken to
countervail these designs.
"What answer sent he?" she hastily inquired.
"The de'il's buckie said his master would be at the hall by dinner-time;
and I'll not be one o' the guests where old Clootie has the pick o' the
table."
"Thou witless runnion, haste, or we are lost! It is the king! I would I
had trusted thee before with the secret. Mayhap thy wit would have been
without obscuration. Supernatural terrors have taken thy reason
prisoner. Haste, nor look behind thee until thou art under the eaves of
Bashall. This to my cousin, Edmund Talbot; he is honest, or my wishes
themselves are turned traitors," said the maiden wistfully. She scrawled
but one line, with which Gregory departed on his errand.
Oliver Tempest grew uneasy at his daughter's absence. He inquired the
cause, but all were alike ignorant. The king inquired too, with some
surprise; and a messenger was despatched with a close whisper in his
ear.
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