At this idea Lord Drummond laughed aloud, for that was a right which was but ill defined in Scotland till the middle or nearly the end of the last century.
"Wine—wine! more Rochelle and Bordeaux to drink to these fair brides and facile bridegrooms!" cried the half-intoxicated Governor of Stirling, as he thundered on the oaken table with a silver drinking-pot. "Gray, is thy devil of a butler deaf, or is the cellar empty?"
"We have three butts of Rochelle, a bombarde of Bordeaux, and Lammas ale enow to swim the Yellow Frigate," replied the chatelain; "but, on my soul, Sir James, I think thou'st had enough before dinner."
"More wine, I tell thee, thou inhospitable! Bring up the bombarde, and I will teach thee an infallible thrust, by which thou wilt always kill an adversary, even though girded in a triple coat of mail. By my faith, old Drummond, thou art a wise carle! Take lords, while thou canst get them;—better have eggs to-day than hens to-morrow. Ha! ha!"
* * * * * *
Altogether unaware of the troubles in store for them, the three daughters of Drummond at that very time were seated on the bartizan of their ancient mansion in Dundee, watching the white sails of the Yellow Frigate and her consort, as they shone in the setting-sun, and diminished on those waters which the western light tinged with a golden glow.
With anxious eyes and saddened hearts, the dark-haired Euphemia and hazel-eyed Sybilla gazed after them, for they knew not on what errand the ships had sailed so hurriedly; and there they lingered long after the summer sun had sunk beyond the beautiful Carse of Gowrie, and its rays had faded from the green conical hill of Dundee, which was then girded by the ruined ramparts of a castle, averred by history to have been the habitation of Catanach, King of the Picts, and afterwards of Donald I. of Scotland.
By their side sat Margaret, pale and thoughtful as usual, with little Lizzie and Beatrix nestling by her side. The ocean became a darker blue, and blended with the sky; bells rang for vespers in the many ecclesiastical buildings of the town, which then possessed four great churches, five convents, and thirteen chapels; and reluctantly and with silent anxiety the three fair girls withdrew from the proud bartizan to the chamber of dais below.
By this time their politic—perhaps we are not wrong in saying cunning—old father was leaving the tower of Broughty, accompanied by his two intended sons-in-law, and two gentlemen, both Drummonds of Strathearn, who were his constant attendants, and were constantly armed to the teeth. Borthwick, who had finished his letter, and was loitering in the archway, beckoned to his lordship, and uncovering his head with great respect, craved a word with him, for he had not forgotten the punch he received on the head from the fiery young Duke of Rothesay, and his heart yet burned to be revenged for it.
"Well, good fellow, what would you with me?" asked the noble, as he checked his horse, for he was in excellent humour at the prospect of two such powerful alliances for his daughters.