'That is the curse of my life,' cried Mac Donalbain, repentantly, 'for which I cannot answer. For that must I call down justice upon myself.

However hard your sentence may fall upon me, by that alone have I deserved it, and willingly bow myself before the chastening hand of the law.'

'It is the request of my uncle,' said Arwed to the judge, 'that all the wrongs which Mac Donalbain has perpetrated against our house should be pa.s.sed over without investigation.'

'What, even the attempt against his excellency's person?' indignantly asked the judge, whilst Megret in silent anger ground the floor with his spurred heel.

'The band,' said Arwed, 'among whom the governor had accidentally fallen, wished to murder him for their own safety. Mac Donalbain preserved the old man's life by risking his own. Even the imprisonment was but a measure resorted to for that purpose. I also have to thank this man for the preservation of my life. He would have a strong counter reckoning to make with us. Therefore let one account be considered as balanced by the other.'

'I am astonished,' spitefully observed Megret, 'that my lord the governor has not proposed an amnesty for his dear son-in-law.'

'My uncle,' answered Arwed with earnestness, 'can pardon injuries personal to himself; but he will never allow himself to interrupt the just operation of the laws. With us Mac Donalbain has made his peace.

He has now to reconcile himself with the laws and satisfy the demands of public justice, if need be, with his blood!'

'Oh, would to G.o.d it might be so!' cried Mac Donalbain. 'With my present feelings life would be to me a most sad and unwelcome gift.'

A disturbance was now heard without the session-room. The door flew open, and the breathless Christine, with her child in her arms, pressed irresistibly through the crowd of officers who sought to hold her back.

'This trial also!' sighed Mac Donalbain, turning away his face.

'In G.o.d's name, the countess Gyllenstierna!' cried the astonished judge.

'I was the countess Gyllenstierna,' said Christine. 'I am now the wedded wife of the brigand leader, Mac Donalbain, and my place is by his side, in chains or upon the gallows.'

'Christine! how could you afflict your father by this second shameful flight?' Arwed reproachingly asked.

'My father's life,' answered Christine, 'was already empoisoned beyond remedy by my guilt. Therefore allow me the merit of having fulfilled my duty towards at least _one_ being in the world, my husband. He is a prisoner, and suffering in body and mind. He needs care and consolation; and from whom can he expect either, if not from her who has bound her fate with his for this life by a solemn oath before G.o.d's altar.'

'Have you then really married the criminal?' Megret anxiously asked.

Christine gave him a scornful look and remained silent; but when the question was repeated by the judge, she drew a sealed paper from her bosom and laid it upon his table.

'A Gyllenstierna can never wholly fall,' said she proudly. 'The old curate of Lyksale, constrained by my tears, secretly married us a short time before his death.'

'This evidence,' said the judge, 'speaks _against_ your wish to share the criminal's chains. Bound to him by the holy ties of marriage, you become guiltless of the crimes in which he is implicated, in which your will had no part. There is no reasonable ground for your detention, and nothing remains but to send you back to your father.'

'Torture me not with this well-meant chicanery!' exclaimed Christine.

'Would you counsel me to ascertain which is deepest, the Umea or my misery? Or would you that I should strangle myself with the braids of my hair? So true as the Lord liveth, I will not be torn living from my husband.'

'Let it be as she wishes,' begged Arwed of the judge.

'I shall perhaps take a heavy responsibility upon myself,' answered the latter with strong emotion. 'But who could withstand her intercession?

Be it so.'

'Courage, Mac Donalbain!' now exhorted Christine. 'We have men for our judges. They will listen to your defence with merciful hearts, and thus at least your life will be saved.'

'I desire not life, nor will I ask for mercy!' cried Mac Donalbain, wildly. 'My deeds are my own, and the son of my father is not accustomed to excuse or palliate them, especially to save a miserable life!'

'You speak as becomes a man and a Scottish n.o.bleman,' said Christine; 'yet must I be allowed to speak for you as becomes your truly wedded wife. Therefore I beg of you, my lords, give that gracious hearing which you hope G.o.d will one day give you!'

'What can you offer in defence of a convicted highway robber?' asked the judge, with some appearance of sympathy.

'The heaven-crying injustice of the government!' eagerly exclaimed Christine, 'which forcibly impelled the unhappy man upon his criminal career. The indulgence which has been shown to similar transgressions.

The case of the Danish deserter, who received from Charles XII great rewards and a license to rob for his own benefit, proves how mildly such transgressions have hitherto been judged in our father-land.'

'However clear may be the precedent you cite to us,' said the judge, 'it cannot be applied to the present case. Neither was this absolute sovereign authorised to grant such unheard of privileges, which, if true, owes its origin but to one of Charles's strange caprices; as the property of the subjects must be deemed sacred by the king, who is indeed their natural protector.'

'My maternal inheritance shall repair the wrong which Mac Donalbain has inflicted upon the country!' cried Christine.

'Can you make reparation for the innocent blood which has been shed by your husband's hand?' asked the judge with impressive solemnity.

'The resistance he opposed to the attack was self-defence!' cried Christine; 'besides, none of the a.s.sailants fell by his sword; and with that exception he has preserved his hands pure from the blood of his fellow men.'

'By no means!' answered the judge. 'The traveler upon the road to Lulea, and the unhappy Laplander, who conducted the governor to that den of murderers, are dumb witnesses of your husband's guilt.'

'By the G.o.d of heaven, Mac Donalbain is not guilty of their death!'

cried Christine in tones of the deepest anguish. 'Ask the band, and, if either of them accuse my husband, let us both die the shameful death of criminals.'

'We would indeed very willingly hear the truth, at last, from his companions. But in their examinations they have denied all knowledge of the crimes of which they have been guilty, with unparalleled impudence.'

'The knaves deny!' cried Mac Donalbain, springing upon his feet. 'They must consider me dead or as having escaped, else they would not dare to do it, for they know me. Let them be brought here,--let them be placed before my eyes. I will reckon with them in a manner which shall change their minds.'

'It may not be advisable,' observed Megret; 'it may give them an opportunity for secret collusion.'

'I am of a different opinion, colonel,' answered the judge, directing the bailiff to bring in the band. 'This man is so bold and frank that we need not fear artifice.'

A long, deep silence ensued. Christine, weeping in silence, had seated herself upon Mac Donalbain's stool, and was absorbed in the contemplation of the blooming child, which with an angel smile was sleeping on her bosom. The brigand leader had kneeled down and hid his face in her lap, whilst her white fingers wandered among his black and curled locks. Megret looked with dark burning glances, and Arwed with the deepest sympathy upon the group, while the judge said, sighing; 'the office of a judge is sometimes very difficult to administer!'

A noise was now heard in the ante-room. Arms and chains rattled, and twelve fiend-like ruffians, in heavy chains and strongly guarded by bailiffs and soldiers, stepping in exact time, without recognizing or noticing Mac Donalbain, marched in and formed in exact line on the s.p.a.ce before the bench.

'We have again summoned you,' began the chief judge, 'to repeat our exhortations to confess the truth, and once more to lead your minds to the conviction, that by persisting in your shameless denials, you only prolong the examination and your own imprisonment--that you expose yourselves to the torture of the rack, and moreover increase the severity of your punishment, the mitigation of which you can only hope from a free and full confession. Consider, unhappy men, that my present request is made with the kindest intentions. He, only, who honestly acknowledges and repents of his sins can hope for a merciful judgment here or hereafter.'

'It is quite pathetic and affecting to hear,' answered the most hardened of the prisoners, 'that such a lord as you should so far condescend to us miserable people, as to beg where you are accustomed only to command. We cannot indeed particularly wish to hasten an examination which with us is to end with the gallows, especially if we should say yes to all of which we are suspected to be guilty. The mitigation of punishment, with which judges always embellish their promises to prisoners, in requital of candid confessions, appears to me like the little book mentioned in the revelations of St. John, 'sweet in the mouth and bitter in the belly.' We know of many examples where prisoners have fared worse for speaking than for keeping silent.

However it may be with others, we have not the least desire to talk away our own lives. Concerning the rack, which judges always present as the other alternative, we must submit to it as well as we may, all of us having strong frames and stout hearts. Nevertheless we would give you every information without the rack, if any we had. What we do know, we have honestly related; and it certainly is not our fault if you will not believe us.'

'Do you persist, then, in denying the robberies of which you are already as good as convicted?' asked the judge.

'We deny nothing,' insolently answered the prisoner, 'nor do we acknowledge anything; for we have committed no crime. We are honest Finlanders, who follow hunting through half the Lappmark, and had our head quarters upon the Ravensten.'

'And do you really know nothing of Black Naddock?' further asked the judge.

'We have heard some tales about the arrant rogue,' answered the brigand, 'but the devil knows more about him than we. There was indeed a Moor, who begged a lodging of us last night, and I thought I saw him again in the morning, when we were attacked by the dragoons and their companions; but whether he was or was not Naddock, is more than I can say. I do not know the man.'

'You do not know me, rascal?' cried Mac Donalbain, springing forward, and striking his brother robber to the earth with his fist.

'The captain!' was murmured along the ranks, and, fronting their chief, the robbers laid their right hands upon their hearts, in token of respectful greeting.

'Must I suffer this from people whom I have commanded?' angrily exclaimed Mac Donalbain. 'You have held out like heroes, against men and elements, and do you now, equivocate like common thieves from a miserable fear of death? Know that I have disclosed everything to the court, and further, that I will freely answer every question they can put to me. Do you wish to give the lie to your captain?'