She had scarcely entered the kitchen when the female minstrel, again throwing herself in Catharine's arms, and assuring her of her unalterable fidelity, crept in silence downstairs, the little dog under her arm.

A moment after, she was seen by the breathless Catharine, wrapt in the dey woman's cloak, and walking composedly across the drawbridge.
"So," said the warder, "you return early tonight, May Bridget?
Small mirth towards in the hall--ha, wench! Sick times are sad times!" "I have forgotten my tallies," said the ready witted French woman, "and will return in the skimming of a bowie." She went onward, avoiding the village of Falkland, and took a footpath which led through the park.

Catharine breathed freely, and blessed God when she saw her lost in the distance.

It was another anxious hour for Catharine which occurred before the escape of the fugitive was discovered.

This happened so soon as the dey girl, having taken an hour to perform a task which ten minutes might have accomplished, was about to return, and discovered that some one had taken away her grey frieze cloak.