"Reflect, lord regent," said the Earl of Huntly; "I pray you to reflect on this measure."
"Reflect on what?" asked Arran sharply, through his golden helmet.
"The sequel of a movement so rash as this."
"A brave soldier never reflects," replied Arran proudly.
"But a skilful captain doth," was the pointed response.
"True, my Lord Huntly," said the Earl of Angus; "you are in the right, and our friend Arran is most unwise to reject such prudent counsel."
"Enough, sirs—enough!" said Arran, who was burning with impatience, as he saw the long lines of the English glittering in the sunshine, and a longing for vengeance on Somerset, whose invasion had convulsed the realm, and whose plots, spies, assassins, and bribes, had so long disturbed the Scottish government, gathered in his heart; "let us attack them ere they escape by sea. You smile, my Lord Kilmaurs!" he added, turning wrathfully to that young lord.
"Nay, my lord regent—this is no time to smile; nor did I," replied the other bluntly.
"Methought a strange expression crossed your face."
Kilmaurs grew pale with rage, for being in the English interest, he had felt some satisfaction on foreseeing the ruin of Arran's army.