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Get ye gone, all of ye, and give me time to think. Out with ye all, for I must lock the gate!" John Law passed as one stupefied, the slender form of Mary Connynge still upon his arm. Hands of men hurried them. "Quick! Into the carriage!" one cried. And now the sounds of feet and voices approaching along the corridor were heard. The jailer swiftly swung the heavy gate to and locked it.
Tho swift jealous rage of Mary Connynge was unpremeditated, yet nothing had better served her real purpose. The stubborn nature of Law was ever ready for a challenge. He caught her arm, and placed her not unkindly upon the chair. "By heaven, I half believe what you say is true!" said he, as though to himself. "Yet you just said 'twas false," said the girl, her eyes flashing.
Before him, the sun shining through her hair, her eyes dark in the shadow, stood Mary Connynge.
"In that case," said Mary Connynge, her voice cool, though her soul was hot with impatience, "it might perhaps be well if I took the liberty of reading the message in Lady Catharine's absence. You say your brother is in trouble?" "Of the worst. Madam, to make plain with you, he is in prison, charged with the crime of murder." Mary Connynge sank back into her chair. The blood fled from her cheek.
Reluctantly the butler swung open the door and admitted the visitor. Will Law stood face to face with Mary Connynge, just from her boudoir, and with time for but half care as to the details of her toilet; yet none the less Mary Connynge, Eve-like, bewitching, endowed with all the ancient wiles of womankind. Will Law gazed, since this was his fate.
The blood, settled back, now slowly mounted again into his face, the resentful, fighting blood of the Highlander. "I promise," he cried. "And now, tell me what answer had the Lady Catharine Knollys." "She declined to answer," said Mary Connynge, slowly and evenly. "Declined to come. She said that she was ill enough pleased to hear of your brawling.
There was feminine triumph now in full in the heart of this Mary Connynge, who had gone white with rage at the sight of a rose offered across her face to another woman. Had she not her master? Was he not hers, all hers, belonging in no wise to any other? For the future, Mary Connynge did not ponder it.
He regarded idly the busy scenes of the shipping about him. His gaze, dull and listless, looked without joy upon the dawn, without inquiry upon the far horizon. For the first time in all his life John Law dropped his head between his hands. Not so Mary Connynge. "Good sir," cried she, merrily, "'tis morning. Let's break our fast, and so set forth proper on our voyage."
Could she elect which man should live and which should die this woman, scorned, abased, mastered? Neither of these sought to read the riddle of her set face and blazing eyes. Each as he might offered his soul to his Creator. The hand of Mary Connynge was raised above her head. Her face was turned once more to John Law, her master, her commander, her repudiator.
Though I must say," replied Mary Connynge, with indirection, "that I fancy the other far more, he being not so forward, nor so full of pure conceit. I like not a man so confident." This with an eye cast down, as much as though there were present in the room some man subject to her coquetry. "Why, I had not found him offering such an air," replied Lady Catharine, judicially.
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