The page arose, and went with the lady and her three younger sons, but he seemed to go very unwillingly. In truth, he had received her little attentions rather coldly; so much so, indeed, that Hepborne had felt somewhat hurt at his seeming indifference.
After much wine had been swallowed, and a great deal of conversation had passed about hunting and deeds of chivalry—
“And so thou goest to this tourney of my brother-in-law, the Earl of Moray’s, Sir Patrick?” said the Wolfe.
“Such is the object of my journey, my Lord,” replied Hepborne.
“By St. Hubert! I have a mind to go with thee, were it only to show my boys the sport,” replied the Wolfe. “But, by the thunder of Heaven! I am not over well pleased with this same brother-in-law. The old man, my doting liege-father, hath refused to add Moray Land to my lieutenantship, which now lacketh but it to give me broad control from the Spey to the Orcades; and, by my beard, I cannot choose but guess that Earl John hath had some secret hand in preventing him. My sister Margery denies this stoutly; but she would deny anything to keep fire and sword from her lord’s lands. Yet may the hot fiend swallow me if I ween not that I have hit the true mark in so suspecting.”
“By the red Rood, then, I would straightway tax him with it,” said Sir Alexander Stewart.
“Nay, nay, meddle thou not, Sandy,” said the Wolfe. “I lack not thine advice. This matter concerns not thee.”
“Concerns not me!” exclaimed Sir Alexander, hotly—“by the martyrdom of St. Andrew, but it does though—it concerneth me mightily; yea, it enchafeth me to see thee, my father, pusillanimously suffer thyself to be agrutched and hameled in the extent of thy flight, an if thou wert a coistril hawk, to be mewed by any he of the mark of Adam.”
“I tell thee, boy, thou art a silly fool,” roared out the Wolfe, gnashing his teeth in a fury. [[214]]
“If I am a fool, then,” said Sir Alexander, in no less a rage, “I am at least wise enough to know from whom I have had my folly.”