"How many legs has the stag, Fleming?" asked Alexander Ruthven, with an effort to laugh. "Four, I trust?"
Fleming gazed at him for an instant, apparently in some surprise. "Ah!" he said at length, "I did not understand you. Four, by all means. I heard the order for horses and hounds, myself. We are all in mirth and high glee at Falkland. The king seems to have forgotten all cares and crosses, and like an over-ripe gooseberry, seems ready to burst with sweetness. No, no, there is no danger. If you are there about eight o'clock, you will find the whole court in the saddle. Some of the ladies even, I have heard, are likely to be out to see the run. What shall I say to his majesty?"
Alexander Ruthven looked to his brother, and then replied, "Say that I am his most devoted servant, and always ready to obey his will.--You must not go dry lipped, Fleming, however," he continued, seeing the young gentleman rise, as if to depart. "A cup of this old wine will refresh you--your horse, too, has not had time to feed."
"He will carry me back fasting," answered Fleming; "but I must drink to your good health, and to that of my lord, your brother. The king never bethought himself of sending for you till three hours ago--foul fall his memory! when, after talking with your sister the duchess, he suddenly called out to me, 'Fleming, get on your beast's back, and ride to Perth as if the de'il had ye. Tell the bairn Alex to come and run the muckle hart wi' us the morn, and bid him no lose time by the way. Some one here can lend him a horse, I trow, for his ane beast will be weary!"
As he spoke he filled himself a cup of wine; and the earl asked who was with the king when this was said.
"The duchess and Lady Mar," said Fleming. "They came into the small room, at the top of the great staircase, my lord, where I had ensconced myself to talk awhile with Margaret Hume, if the truth must be told. But now I will wish you both good night, and away on my long ride again."
The earl bade him adieu; and Alexander Ruthven saw him to his horse's back. Then, returning to his brother, he said eagerly, "What shall I do, Gowrie? This invitation is strange."
"Strange as the man who sent it," said Gowrie; "but yet methinks he can intend you no ill; and, if you refuse to go, it will at once put enmity between you and the king. If there is any evil designed, it is clear Fleming has heard nought of it."
"I must go, I fear," said Alexander Ruthven. "I know not why I feel such a dread; for it is just like the king, the whole proceeding--friends with you to-day, at enmity to-morrow, then friends with you again, if you show that you heed his wrath but little. It is possible--nay, it is probable, that he intends no ill; but yet, I know not why, I feel as if I were going to execution. How often have I flown to that court with joy!--and now how different!"
"If such be your feelings, Alex, I would not have you go," replied his brother. "I may perchance be superstitious in this, but I have often thought that, as we see in beasts sympathies with the elements which give them warning of coming changes, teaching them to fly to the open fields when earthquakes are approaching, or look up to the sky and low with joy when the refreshing shower is soon about to descend, so in man's nature there may be sympathies with the finer elements that involve his spiritual nature, giving intimation of coming joy or peril. My own short experience and reading, narrow though it be, have tended to confirm this notion; for I have seldom seen or known a bold spirit seized with an unaccountable repugnance to an act, and do it, without the consequences being disastrous to himself. Now, were you, Alex, of a timid nature, given to unreasonable fears, I should make light of such dreads; but as it is, and as you perhaps are but too bold in character, they have more weight with me."