"But why to Stirling?" asked Florence impetuously.
"Because they have business with the Lord Regent."
"I will follow them. My doublet—my boots and hose. Good Master Posset, your hand. Ah! great Heaven! how my head swims, and the room runs round as if each corner was in pursuit of the other!" exclaimed Florence, who sprang from bed, and would have fallen had not the attentive leech caught him in his arms.
"We must creep before we walk; and you must walk, sir, before you can ride a horse."
"When may I sit in my saddle?"
"In three days, perhaps."
"In three days I shall be in Stirling!" said the other impetuously.
"You had better go home," said Posset bluntly. "'Tis the advice of a sincere friend, who would not have you ride to Stirling on a bootless errand."
"Why bootless, Master Possett, when I tell you that I love, dearly love, one of those who have so abruptly forsaken me."
Master Posset's face, at least so much of it as his voluminous beard and moustache permitted one to see, underwent various expressions at this sudden announcement—-astonishment and perplexity, alarm, and then merriment.