“What, I pray you, is the reason of your conduct yesterday in the precincts?” asked the Prince at once after formally acknowledging Claverhouse’s reverence. “I am informed upon good evidence that you wantonly insulted Lieutenant-Colonel MacKay of the Scots Brigade, and that you invited him to a duel, and that when he, as became an officer of judgment and piety, as well as of high courage, declined to join with you in a foolish and illegal act, that you called him a coward. Have I been rightly informed?
“Then that point is settled as I expected, and in order that you may not make any mistake on this matter I will add, though I am not obliged to do so, that Colonel MacKay did not condescend to inform against you. The scandal was public enough to come from various quarters, and now to my chief question, have you anything to say in your defence?”
“Nothing, sir,” replied Claverhouse. “I judged that Colonel MacKay had done me a 77 personal injury for which I desired satisfaction in the way that gentlemen give. He has a prudent dislike to risk his life, although I endeavored to quicken his spirit. And so I allowed him to know what I thought of him, and some officers who overheard our conversation seemed to have been so much pleased with my judgment that they carried it round the army. In this way I presume it came to your Highness’s ears. That is all,” concluded Graham with much sweetness of manner, “that I have to say.”
“It is what you ought to be ashamed to say, Mr. Graham,” said William severely. “Neither of us are old men, but I take it you are older than I am–––”
“I am twenty-six years of age, may it please your Highness,” interpolated Claverhouse, “and have served in two armies.”
“We are, at any rate, old enough not to play the fool or carry ourselves like headstrong boys. As regards your quarrel, I am given to understand that the cause lies not so much with your fellow-officer as with your general. You are one of that large company who can be found in all armies, who are disappointed because, in their judgment, promotion has not corresponded with their merits. Be good enough to say if I do you an 78 injustice? You are silent, then I am right. And so, because another officer was promoted before you, you choose to take offence and try to put shame upon a gallant gentleman. Is this”––the Prince inquired with a flavor of contempt––“how well-born Scots carry themselves in their own country?”
“Your Highness’s reasoning,” replied Graham with elaborate deliberation, “has convinced me of my error, but I should like to make this plea, that if I had not been carried by a gust of passion in the park yester-morning, I had not disputed with Colonel MacKay. It still seems to me that he has been treated with over much kindness in this matter of promotion, in which––it may be their foolishness––soldiers are apt to be jealous, and I have been in some degree neglected. But I most frankly confess that I have been in the wrong in doing what I did, since it was more your Highness’s business than mine to have resented this quarrel.”
“What mean you by this word, for it has an evil sound?” But there was not a flush on William’s pale, immovable face, and it was marvellous to see so young a Prince carry himself so quietly under the polite scorn of Claverhouse’s manner and the rising insolence of his speech.
“As your Highness insists, it is my pleasure to make my poor meaning plain in your Highness’s ears. If I know what happened, Colonel MacKay, reaching the highest quarter by the back stair, persuaded your Highness to give him the colonelcy, although it in honor belonged to another officer, and I submit to your Highness’s judgment that it was you who should have flicked him with your cane. Colonel MacKay has done John Graham of Claverhouse less injury in disappointing him of his regiment, though it has been a grievous dash, than in inducing your Highness to break your promise.” And Claverhouse, whose last word had fallen in smoothness like honey from the comb, and in venom like the poison of a serpent, looked the Prince straight in the face and then bowed most lowly.