When the Provost rode forward, Sir Patrick Gray touched his horse involuntarily with his spurs to follow him; but MacLellan, who was chief of a Galloway clan at variance with the Douglases, arrested the impulse by grasping his bridle and saying hurriedly,—"Stay, kinsman, be wary."
"Wherefore?" asked Gray, with an air of annoyance; "for many months I have not seen Murielle."
"Then the greater reason to stay and make no advance at present."
"The greater reason!" reiterated the other, with increased surprise.
"Bear with me—but women often change their minds."
"Thou art a libeller; she will never change, at all events, and I shall risk—"
"The Regent's displeasure—the Chancellor's suspicions?" interrupted MacLellan, with a smile.
"You are right," replied Gray, checking his horse, while his nether lip quivered with annoyance.
"Listen, kinsman," resumed MacLellan, "this Provost may leave his place, knight and baron though he be, to speak well and fairly this great lord, whose train of lances fill his burgess-wives with fear lest latches be lifted, booths broken, and goods and gear be harried in the night; but you, who bear the king's colours on your surcoat, must not make any such advance, especially at such a time as this, when Douglas, like his father before him, hath acted the bullyboy to all Scotland."
"The advice is good, MacLellan," said the captain with a sigh; "but still, will not Murielle expect that I—I should—"