"Hope that I have the honour to be esteemed a loyal subject."
"And a brave soldier, too, young man."
"I have yet that name to win," said Florence modestly.
"At this perplexing time, when every avenue and antechamber of our palaces are thronged by traitors, who were in league with the late English Harry, and are now at faith with the protector, I do not deem it expedient to visit with condign punishment those men, of whose base intrigues I am, to some extent aware; yet, within the last hour, I have sent the Earl of Bothwell, deprived of his sword, spurs, and green ribbon, guarded by forty troopers, all Hamiltons, a prisoner to the castle of Edinburgh. There, in the sure ward of its governor, Sir James Hamilton of Stainehouse, let him await—through the iron bars of David's Tower—the coming of Dame Katherine Willoughby, his English bride; and there shall he remain in solitude and seclusion, while I consider the means of crushing his compatriots, after we have swept the foe back to their own country."
"Bothwell a prisoner!" exclaimed Florence; "I should like to hear my Lord Glencaim's opinion of this."
"What would his opinion be?"
"He is a lord of the Scottish privy council."
"But his opinion; what would it be?"
"He is a lord of council."
"Sir, what mean you by repeating that?"