have preserved, I might lead an unharassed life, and forget the lot I
was born to, that were indeed a prospect for which it were worth risk of
further censure to wander farther and wider!"

The tenderness of voice with which the Countess Isabelle made this
admission, at once filled Quentin with joy, and cut him to the very
heart.

"Lady," he said at last, "I should act foully against my honour did I
suffer you to think I have power in Scotland to afford you other
protection than that of the poor arm which is now by your side. Our
castle was stormed at midnight, and all were cut off that belonged to my
name. Even had the King of Scotland a desire to do me justice, he dared
not, for the sake of one poor individual, provoke a chief who rides with
five hundred horse."

"Alas!" said the Countess, "there is no corner of the world safe from
oppression! No more of Scotland, then; no more of Scotland!"

In the humour of mutual confidence, and forgetting the singularity of
their own situation, as well as the perils of the road, the travellers
pursued their journey for several hours.

The artificial distinction which divided the two lovers--for such we may
now term them--seemed dissolved by the circumstance in which they were
placed. For the present, the Countess was as poor as the youth, and for
her safety, honour, and life, she was exclusively indebted to his
presence of mind, valour, and devotion. They _spoke_ not, indeed, of
love, but the thoughts of it were on both sides unavoidable.