“A messenger with some errand of moment for Sir Walter Stewart,” replied the Squire.
“Come in, and tell us who and what he may be,” replied Lord Huntly.
“He desired me to deliver this ring into Sir Walter’s own hand,” said the Squire, entering and presenting it to the Knight.
“Ha!” cried the Knight, the moment he threw his eyes on it, “give him entrance without a moment’s delay. My Lord, this is my boy Charley Stewart, who went abroad in the service of the royal Duke of Albany. I thank the saints that he is alive! I rejoice that I shall once more behold him, for I feared that something fatal had befallen him. It is well that he hath thus come, so opportunely, else, in my bewilderment, he might have lost his share of that which he hath so well deserved at my hands.”
“It is well, indeed, that he hath come, then,” replied the Earl, “for, if I mistake not, he is a young man worthy of the stock he hath sprung from. The Duke of Albany, I remember, spoke well of him from France, some little time after his arrival there.”
“His Highness vouchsafed to do so,” replied Sir Walter. “But it is so long since, that now I burn to behold the boy once more, and to see, with mine own eyes, what improvement foreign nurture hath done on him.”
“And I,” said the Earl, “am especially curious to hear how his royal master the Duke hath sped, and whether he may yet talk of returning to his country, and trusting his person to the protection of the Scottish nobles. But here comes the youth.”
“Charley, my boy!—my son! thank God that thou art alive! I rejoice to behold thee again once more!” cried Sir Walter, hurrying forward to embrace him, with deep emotion. “I am glad, most glad, thou art come!”
“Your blessing, father!” cried Charley, who having entered the room with the veiled lady on his arm, quitted her at the door, and rushed forward to meet and to throw himself on his knees before Sir Walter.
“Thou hast it, boy!” replied the Knight, raising him up, and clasping him tenderly to his breast. “Thou hast it most sincerely. Recent melancholy events have now made thee doubly dear to me. But say, why is it that I have heard nought of thee for so long a time? Why is it that thou wert as silent in thy communication as if thou hadst been dead? Often did I of late seek tidings of thee of De Tremouille, but so much in vain did I seek them, that I more than half believed that some fatal calamity had befallen thee. Come, say how hath it fared with thee and thy royal master, and where, and wherefore, hast thou left him?”