“Nay, by all that is friendly, that is not well said of you, MacLeod,” said Glengarry. “But I shall not be baulked of your visit. We shall break up hence, and set forward thither before to-morrow’s dawn. If there be deer on my hills, fish in my streams, steers in my pastures, or wine in my castle-vaults, thou shalt be feasted like a prince as thou art.”
“That may not be,” said MacLeod, “for this is no time for you to devote to friendship and feasting. Thou knowest not that the object of this voyage of mine was no other than to warn thee of certain wicked plots that are about to be brought to bear against thee.”
“What! some evil machinations of the accursed Kintail, I warrant me,” said Glengarry.
“Thou hast guessed, and guessed rightly too,” replied MacLeod.
“Cowardly villain that he is!” cried Glengarry, “what has he done?”
“Thou knowest that he is in high favour at Court,” said MacLeod. “They even talk now of his being made an earl. But be that as it may, he hath somehow or other acquired the means of using the King’s ear. And foully doth he misuse it, by pouring poison into it to further his own ambitious and avaricious views, to the injury of the innocent.”
“’Tis like the cold-hearted knave,” said Glengarry. “But what, I pray thee, hath he said of me?”
“I know not what he may have said of thee,” answered MacLeod, “but I know that he must have sorely misreported thee, seeing that through certain channels he hath persuaded his Majesty to arm him with letters of fire and sword and outlawry against thee.”
“What said’st thou?” cried Glengarry, choking with his rising anger; “did I hear thee aright? Letters of outlawry, and of fire and sword, put into the hands of MacKenzie of Kintail, to be executed against me! Oh, impossible!”
“What I tell thee is too true,” said MacLeod.