His arrival at the residence of the old earl, who had contributed to place his family on the throne, brought into the mind of the prince some recollections which evolved feelings which were deeply planted in his nature, and only prevented from producing useful and amiable effects, by lawless habits borrowed from dissolute companions. With his mind elevated by noble aspirations, and high hopes of being one day an ornament to his country, which he sincerely loved, he was in an excellent mood for appreciating the virtues and beauty of a woman who could, as a consort, make him a better and a happier man, and, by a necessary consequence, a better governor, and subsequently a good king. He met Elizabeth Douglas at a distance from the castle, and introducing himself in the easy and elegant manner of which no man of his time was more capable, was delighted with her conversation, and inspired by her personal charms. Proceeding together to the castle, they were met at the gate by the old earl, who complimented Rothsay, as well as his daughter, by saying that all he had sighed for was that they should meet and be able to appreciate each other's qualities; for he was assured that one hour's conversation between persons so accomplished, actuated by such motives, and inspired with such sentiments, would do more to procure an attachment than a year's diplomacy and court intrigue.
Rothsay willingly remained for some time at the castle, and had frequent opportunities of conversing with Elizabeth alone, and of appreciating her noble qualities.
"I had got thee misrepresented to me," said the prince; "but I believe unintentionally, and by a transposition of names. What would Elizabeth Douglas think, if she were informed that she was likened to the wife of Socrates, and the slipper-castigator of Hercules?"
"I should conceive that the reporter did not know me," answered Elizabeth, "or wished to deceive. I am not an admirer of either of these ladies, of whom I have before heard; but I plume not myself upon any other quality than a wish to use my wealth and station for the benefit of those who, though better and holier than I am, have, by the force of dire necessity, been obliged to bow their necks under the yoke of poverty and misfortune. Yet I fear all I can take credit for is a wish to do good. My actions and my aspirations have not that accordance I could wish; but, by the blessing of God, I hope to improve in my self-discipline; and, in the meantime, I trust no one will be able to accuse me of injuring the humblest of God's creatures."
"How seldom do these sentiments reach the ears of royalty," said Rothsay, whose heart swelled with his genuine sentiments, long concealed, "and especially from the lips of nobility! Yet, pleasant as it is to contemplate goodness in mortals born of sin, it is difficult to estimate the extent of the influence of generous sympathy when it is found in the bosom of beauty. Do not pain me by saying I flatter thee. At present I am not the gay son of King Robert; but by the wand of enchantment changed for a season—would it were for ever!—into a sober reasoner on the rights and claims of suffering humanity."
"Report hath not belied thee, good prince, though it hath me; for I have ever heard that thy sentiments were generous—though, excuse my boldness, they were not allowed to be called forth into action by the scenes of common life. Believe a simple maiden, when she taketh the liberty humbly to suggest, that royalty itself may be more ennobled by one act of charity than by a glorious victory."
"Sweet maiden," cried the prince, seizing rapturously her hands, "thou shalt be my counsellor. Thy sentiments shall be enforced by thy beauty, and my heart and my exchequer be equally under the power of thy generous feelings."
By such conversations, Rothsay gained an insight into the heart of his mistress. He recurred frequently to the report of Ramorgny, and hinted to the earl that he had found his daughter the very reverse of what she had been represented to him. The earl paid particular attention to the hint, and seemed inclined to insinuate that Ramorgny might have had some cause to misrepresent Elizabeth. The duke, having proceeded so far, felt his curiosity excited to get an explanation of the earl's remark; and, upon further question, ascertained that, according to the earl's opinion, which had been corroborated by his daughter, Ramorgny had been inspired with a strong passion for Elizabeth, which showed itself in various forms, and was the cause of his protracted stay at the castle. This discovery changed, in a great measure, all the prince's feelings towards his old friend. He had thus convicted him of deception, practised with a view to his injury, and for the purpose of gratifying a passion cherished for the intended wife of his friend and his prince. Amidst all their departures from the rules of sober life, the prince had never himself been guilty, or patronised in his friend, any breach of truth and good faith; and this was the first occasion on which this great cementing principle of mankind had been sacrificed to private interest. Seriously, however, as he felt it, he resolved upon stating it to Ramorgny in such a way as might not produce his enmity; for he had seen enough of him, to be satisfied that he was more capable of forming a worse enemy than he was of becoming a true friend.
While the prince had thus been engaged in the south, Ramorgny had been in the north, enjoying his favourite pastime of hunting the red deer among the hills surrounding the water of Islay. The friends arrived in Edinburgh about the same time, ignorant of each other's motions—Ramorgny still labouring under the effect of the passion with which Elizabeth Douglas had inspired him, and for a partial relief from whose engrossing influence he had gone to the hills; and the duke smarting under the pain of a breach of confidence and friendship in one on whom he had so long placed his affections, and bestowed many favours.
"The hills of Scotland," said Ramorgny, "are exquisite renovators of a town-worn constitution. The roes of the Highlands supply the strength which has been wasted on the town hinds. Thou hadst better have been with me, exerting the powers of a master over the inhabitants of the forest, than stooping to the counsel of that grave batch of seniors appointed to advise with thee—that is, to dictate to thee—on the affairs of the state. Believe me, prince, thou shouldst cashier these greybeards. Thy own judgment, aided by mine, is quite sufficient to enable thee to govern this small barbarous kingdom."