I cried out.
"Yes," said he, "the little lady is in prison. But I would not have you to despair. Unless you (with your friends and memorials) shall procure my downfall, she is to suffer nothing."
"But what has she done? What is her offence?" I cried.
"It might be almost construed a high treason," he returned, "for she has broke the King's Castle of Edinburgh."
"The lady is much my friend," I said. "I know you would not work me if the thing were serious."
"And yet it is serious in a sense," said he; "for this rogue of a Katrine--or Cateran, as we may call her--has set adrift again upon the world that very doubtful character, her papa."
Here was one of my previsions justified: James [pg 231] More was once again at liberty. He had lent his men to keep me a prisoner; he had volunteered h
