"And the day of our banquet with the King, the Regent, and Chancellor."
"Alake that such trust should be!" muttered Sir Malcolm Fleming under his long white moustache.
"What, art croaking again, stout Cumbernauld?" said the earl, laughing; "who can say but the young king may fall in love with our Murielle, and make her queen of Scotland?"
The Douglas knights loudly applauded the surmise.
"How bright the sunset falls on yonder hill," said Murielle, colouring with annoyance; "how is it named?"
"Arthur Seat," replied Lord David.
"See how the rays fade upward, from rock to rock and rift to rift, as the sun sinks. It makes me think o our Galloway song," said Murielle, always a creature of impulse, as she kissed her sister and sang:—
"A weary bodies blythe when the sun gaes down,
A weary bodies blythe when the sun gaes down;
To smile wi' his wife and to dawt wi' his weans:
Wha wouldna be blythe when the sun gaes down?"
"Are you crazed, Murielle," said the Countess, with a smile of disdain, "to lilt thus before grooms and lacqueys?"
But the bearded knights of Galloway, who had now relinquished the silk canopy to their pages, laughed gaily and praised Murielle, whose charms and playfulness ever won the hearts of all.