“What!” cried he with indignation, after glancing it over, “is our mother, or are we, to be turned adrift from our father’s house like ragamuffin quistrons, to beg our way through the world, to please a doting old man?”
“Nay, sooner shall I pluck out every hair of this beard from my face,” shouted the Wolfe in a fury, and tugging out a handful of it unconsciously as he said so. “What! am I to be schooled by an old bigoted prater at my time of life, and to be condemned to live with a restless intriguing hag, who hath been the cause of so much vexation to me! The red fiend shall catch me then! Not for all the bishops in Mother Church, with the Orders four to boot, shall I submit me to such penance. But, by all the powers of darkness, the split-capped Bishop of Moray, Alexander Barr, shall suffer for this. He it is who hath been at the bottom of it all; he it is who hath stirred up the King; and by the infernal fires, he shall ere long undergo my wrekery. He hath been an eternal torture to me; but, by my trusty burly-brand, I shall make the craven, horrow lossel rue that ever he roused the Wolfe of Badenoch.”
He struck the table tremendously with his fist as he concluded. His calling himself by his nom de guerre was with him like Jupiter swearing by the river Styx. His people moved on their seats, put on stern brows, and looked at one another, as if each would have said, “Brother, we shall have something to do here.” The Earl himself snatched up a flagon of Rhenish, and took a deep draught to cool his ire; then turning to Hepborne—
“I bid thee good night, Sir Patrick,” said he; “thou hast no fault in this matter; good night, I say.” Then turning to the rest—“See that Sir Patrick Hepborne have the best quarters [[217]]that may be given him. Good night. By all the fiends, the white-faced hypocrite shall pay for it.” And so saying, he disappeared into the inner apartment of the pavilion.
Immediately afterwards, the page and the three younger Stewarts came forth. Sir Alexander still continued to fret and broil with the fury which the King’s letter had excited in him; yet he neglected not the civilities due to their guest. He gave orders that the youngest boy’s tent should be prepared for Sir Patrick Hepborne, and that his brothers, Duncan and James, should occupy one tent for the night; and, leaving Sir Andrew Stewart to see that the stranger Knight was properly accommodated, he made an exit similar to his father’s.
“’Tis an unfortunate weakness,” said Sir Andrew Stewart, as he accompanied Hepborne to his tent, “’tis an unhappy weakness that so cruelly besets my father and my brother Alexander; half the hours of their lives are spent in temporary frenzy. It would be well for them if they could bridle their passions.”
Hepborne found it difficult to reply; so changing the subject adroitly, and thanking Sir Andrew for his courteous attention, he bade him good night, and was glad to take refuge in the quiet of the tent that had been prepared for him. Being indisposed for sleep, he called his page, whose couch was in the outer apartment, and, ere they retired to rest, their conversation ran as follows:—
“Maurice,” said the knight, “why didst thou show thyself so backward in receiving the Lady Mariota’s favours? She seemed anxious to show thee all manner of kind attention, yet thou didst repel her by thy very looks.”
“Sir Knight,” said the page, “I like not that woman; she is not the wife of the Earl of Buchan, and meseems it a foul thing to see her sit in the seat of so honourable and virtuous a lady as the Countess of Ross, queening it where she hath no claim but the base one that may spring from her own infamy.”
“Thou art right, boy,” said Hepborne, “thou art right, in good truth; but ’tis not for us to read moral lessons to our seniors. Where we see positive harm, or glaring injury, done to any one by another, then it behoveth a true knight to stay not his hand, but forthwith to redress the grievance at peril of his life. But though he is not to court the society of those who sin grossly, yet cannot he always eschew it, and it falleth not within the province of a knight to read moral lectures and homilies to every one he meeteth that may offend against God’s [[218]]laws; else might he exchange the helmet for the cowl. And, verily, he should have little to do but to preach, since the wickedness of man is so great, and so universal, that there is no one who might not call for his sermons; yea, and while zealously preaching to others, he would certainly fall into guilt himself. No, Maurice; let us take care to live irreproachably; then let us suffer no one to do tyranny or injustice to another; and having secured these important things, let us leave all else to a righteous God, who will Himself avenge the sins committed against His moral law. Yet do I much commend that virtuous indignation in thee; and if thy love should ever haply run smooth, as I sincerely pray that it may, I trust that thou wilt be a mirror of virtuous constancy.”