The court-yard and the stair now rang with the clink of armed men, and Arthur, the Master of Forbes, entered, ushering in Murdoch Stewart, proudly attired, and followed by a formidable band of the Clan-Allan, whose flaring red tartans were strongly contrasted against the more modest green of those of the Clan-Forbes. To the no small surprise of his brother Patrick, he no longer wore that appearance of youthful carelessness and indifference, under the mask of which he had hitherto disguised his true character. His bearing was now manly and lofty, suited to the command of the Clan-Allan, which he now seemed to have assumed. His salutation to the Lord of Curgarf was grave, dignified, and courteous; and, as way was made for him, he advanced, with the utmost self-possession, into the middle of the hall.
“I rejoice that I have arrived thus, as it seems, in the nick of time,” said he, looking around him, and bowing as he did so, but without once allowing his eyes to rest on his brother, who stood fixed in silent astonishment at what he beheld.
“So do we all rejoice,” replied the Lord of Curgarf. “Had we but known that our bridal might have been thus honoured by the house of Clan-Allan, on so short a warning, trust me thou shouldst not have lacked our warmest bidding, as thou hast now our warmest welcome.”
“Welcome or not, my Lord,” replied Murdoch Stewart, with a respectful reverence, “thou wilt surely thank me for this most unceremonious visit, when thou shalt know the object of it. I come to save the honour of thy house from foul disgrace: would, that in so doing, I could likewise save the honour of that which gave me birth! But although, in saving thee and thy house from dishonour, the good name of that of Clan-Allan must assuredly be tarnished, it shall never be said of me, that I preserved it by falsehood or infamous concealment.”
“Of what wouldst thou speak?” demanded the Lord of Curgarf. “I do beseech thee, keep me, and keep this good company, no longer in suspense.”
“Then, my good Lord,” replied Murdoch, solemnly, “much as it pains me to utter it, and much as it must pain thee, and all present, to hear it, I must tell thee, that strong suspicions are abroad, that mine eldest brother, Sir Walter Stewart, hath been most foully murdered, and that he, on whom thou wert now on the very eve of bestowing thine only daughter, is the foul murderer, who took an elder brother’s life, to make way for the gratification of his own ambitious and avaricious desires. The circumstances are so strong against my unfortunate brother Patrick, that all agree that no one else could have been the murderer.”
“All!—all!—all!—all! was echoed from the stern Clan-Allans, at the lower end of the hall.
“Holy saints defend us!” exclaimed the Lord of Curgarf, sinking into a chair.
“’Tis false! oh ’tis all false, father!” cried the trembling Catherine Forbes, rushing forward to assist her father.
“Infamous traitor!” cried Patrick Stewart; “lying and infamous traitor! Where are the proofs on which you found so foul and false an accusation?”