"We are honored," he said, "with the company of so brave a lover and one so successful. But we would not keep him from other conquests. So, since I, Murdo of Barra, do not use the daggers of harlots, nor yet the crumbling walls of towers, to crush those who hate me, I give you, sir, your liberty, which I hope you will use wisely, in order that you may retrieve a portion of that honor which by birth is yours. I will set your companion and yourself on shore at the nearest point of land without any conditions whatsoever."
Wat bowed. He did not pay much attention. He was thinking rather of Kate's last words. Barra went over to the captain and entered into earnest talk with him.
It was the turn of the lady of Balmaghie. She came over to where Wat was standing by the side of the ship.
"You thought me beautiful once, or at least you told me so, Lochinvar," she said, laying her hand on his.
"I think you as beautiful to-day as ever I thought you," answered Wat, with a certain weary diplomacy. If the Mammon of Unrighteousness must have the care of the Beloved, it might be as well to make a friend of Mammon.
"Yet you have sought other and younger loves"—she purred her words softly at him—"you have been unfaithful to the old days when it was not less than heaven for you to kiss my hand or to carry my fan."
"Unfaithful!" said Wat, laughing a little hard laugh; "yet your ladyship hath twice been wedded to men of your own choice, whilst I remain lonely, a wanderer, companionless."
"You will ever be welcome at the House of Balmaghie," she said, laying her hand on his.
Wat looked up eagerly. It was not an invitation he had looked for from the duchess on this side the grave.
"Ever most welcome," repeated my lady, looking tenderly at him. "Indeed, gladly would I endeavor to comfort you if ever you come to us in sore trouble."