"It was quite natural, John," said his mother. "Hearts are like trees, my dear boy: they must be taken from the parent stem, and grafted on another, in order to bear good fruit. I have loved myself, Gowrie, and have not forgotten what it is."
"Love alone would not have carried me thither before seeing you, dear mother," answered the earl; "but I feared that so strict and careful a watch as is needful might not be kept up; and my suspicions were only too correct. I found the castle gates open, and not a man in the house but my English servant Jute. However, I have now spoken seriously to Donald Mac Duff, our baron bailie, and taken such measures as to guard against all chance of surprise. In case of need, Athol will come down with help, and the clans would not be found wanting. And now, William," he continued, throwing his arm over the stripling's shoulder, "many, many thanks, my dear brother, for all your care and kindness to one dearer to me than myself, and to you, my dear mother, for your affectionate greeting of her, which made her no stranger in the land of her fathers, or in the family of her future husband, though she had never beheld either before. I shall stay with you here for two or three days, and then go to bring Beatrice to you."
"It is well you have come, Gowrie," said his mother, "for here is a summons from the king to attend the council some ten days hence. The messenger inquired curiously where you were; and we told him you were gone to Perth, but would be back to-night. The king, perchance, may send to seek you there."
"He will find I have been to bonny St. Johnstone," said Gowrie, laughing, "and to-morrow, by dawn, I will send off a messenger to show him that I am now here. He will hear of my journey, too, most likely, from other sources; for I am sorry to say a sad affair took place in Perth between one of George Ramsay's men and David Drummond, who stabbed him to the heart."
"The cankered beast!" cried the old countess, "I wish I had not saved him to kill another honest man!"
"In that former business," said the earl, "both were in fault, so there might be some excuse for him; but now the wrong was all on his side, as far as I can learn; and so I have left him a prisoner in the hands of the town. He shall have no favour from me, for he has been well warned, and is greatly criminal. And now, dear mother, let us talk of happier things----alas! your hair has turned sadly gray;" and he smoothed it affectionately upon her brow.
CHAPTER XXX.
It was a gay sight in the town of Edinburgh, as, on the morning of the twenty-third of March, all the principal nobles of the land rode, gallantly attended, to the council for which the king's summons had gone forth, and many were the persons assembled to see them pass. No great joy or satisfaction, however, shone upon the countenances of the good citizens of Edinburgh, for the rumour already had spread through the city that a new tax was in contemplation to support the extravagance of the king, and to enrich the minions of the court. Never was a greater mistake made than that which is attributed to David Rizzio, who is said to have expressed an opinion, when warned by Sir James Melville of the peril which menaced him, that the bark of the Scotch people was worse than their bite. On the contrary, history proves that the bite, and that a sharp one, came frequently before the bark. On the present occasion, there were no loud expressions of popular feeling, except perhaps, when one of those barons in whom the people had confidence happened to pass; but a dull and menacing sort of gloom hung over the crowd, and whatever they thought, it was expressed in low tones to each other. Gowrie was one of the first on the way, and a shout greeted him when he approached the crowd assembled near the palace gates, for there the council was held; but the noise soon died away, and he was riding on, when a half-witted man ran out from amongst the rest, and laid his hand upon the earl's rein, saying, "Don't you vote for the tax, Gowrie! Don't you vote for the oppression of the people. We poor folk can hardly bear it."
Gowrie said some kind but unmeaning words to the poor man, and passed quietly on his way, arriving at the gates a few minutes before the appointed hour. At the door he was met by the king's porter, who informed him that his majesty had not yet left his apartments; and with a slow step and very thoughtful countenance, the young earl was walking across to the foot of the staircase, when young John Ramsay came hastily forward from the fireplace, by which he was standing, and accosted him, saying, "My lord the earl, I wish to speak to you."
"Ah, Ramsay!" said Gowrie, turning round, and holding out his hand, "I did not see you!"