“Glengarry himself,” said Lord Kintail.
“By all that is good, Glengarry may well be a proud man by being so distinguished,” said the stranger, with great energy both of voice and of action. And then, after a short pause, he made one bold step forward, and throwing wide his plaid, and standing openly confessed before them all, he exclaimed in a voice like thunder,—“I am Glengarry!”
There was one moment of fearful silence, during which all eyes were turned upon the chief of the MacDonells with the fixed stare of people who were utterly confounded. Then was every dirk plucked from the board by the right hand of its owner, and the clash which was thus made among the beakers and flagons was terrific; and the savage looks which each man darted upon his neighbour, in his apprehension of treachery, where each almost fancied that the saving of his own life might depend on the quick dispatching of him who sat next to him, presented a spectacle which might have frozen the blood of the stoutest heart that witnessed it. But ere a stroke was struck, or a single man could leave his place, Glengarry sprang on Kintail with the swiftness of a falcon on its quarry; and ere he could arm himself, he seized his victim with the vice-like gripe of his left hand, and pinned him motionless into his chair, whilst the dirk which he had concealed under his plaid now gleamed in his right hand, with its point within an inch of the MacKenzie’s throat.
“Strike away, gentlemen,” said Glengarry calmly; “but if that be your game, I have the first cock!”
The MacKenzies had all risen, it is true. Nay, some of them had even moved a step forward in defence of their chief. But they marked the gigantic figure of Glengarry; and seeing that the iron strength he possessed gave him as much power over Lord Kintail as an ordinary man has over a mere child, and that any movement on their part must instantly seal his doom, each man of them stepped back and paused, and an awful and motionless silence once more reigned for some moments throughout the hall.
“Let any man but stir a finger!” said Glengarry in a calm, slow, yet tremendous voice, “and the fountain of Lord Kintail’s life’s-blood shall spout forth, till it replenish the goblet of him who sits in the lowest seat at this board! Let not a finger be stirred, and Kintail shall be skaithless.”
“What wouldest thou with me, MacDonell?” demanded Kintail, with half-choked utterance, that gave sufficient evidence of the rudeness of that gripe by which his throat was held.
“Thou hast gotten letters of outlawry and of fire and sword against me and against my clan,” said Glengarry.
“I have,” said Kintail. “They were sent me because of thy rescue of certain men of the MacCraws, declared rebels to the King.”
“I ask not how or whence thou hadst them,” said Glengarry. “But I would have them instantly produced.”